Chapter 141 Chapter 141 The Bend
“I need to tell you something,” I say, my voice almost breaking.
Mike is on his knees in front of me, carefully taking off my shoes. His warm hand slides slowly up and down my calf, grounding, steady. He looks up at me, something unreadable flashing across his blue eyes, then he rises quickly to his feet.
“You’re short,” he says, like he’s just discovered it now that I’m out of my heels.
We’re almost the same height—he’s maybe an inch or two taller. I hesitate for a split second, wondering if I should tell him it’s been a year since I’ve been with anyone.
No.
He doesn’t need to know that.
“That’s exactly what I was going to say,” I smile, deflecting.
His house—this house he shares with his sister—is tucked into the Lakes. It’s massive, an eggshell-colored mansion with a dark brown roof, something straight out of the South, like a plantation home. Inside, it feels like someone else’s life. Antique rugs, stiff furniture that looks like it shouldn’t be touched, let alone sat on. It’s polished, curated… and completely impersonal. Like a museum. Like I don’t belong here.
Mike steps behind me, his fingers finding the zipper of my dress. He pulls it down slowly, deliberately. The silk pools at my feet in seconds. I step out of it, standing there bare, exposed.
He just stares at me.
Like I’m something rare. Something expensive. Something untouchable.
And it throws me off.
Something about this feels wrong. Like I shouldn’t be doing this. Like I should stop.
But I don’t.
My hands reach for his jacket, but he stops me. His hands move between us instead, undoing his pants. In one swift motion, he pulls them down along with his boxers and sits on the edge of the bed. His jacket, shirt, and tie are still perfectly in place. Pants around his ankles. Shoes still on.
It’s… strange.
My eyes drop despite myself.
And then I see it.
There’s a sharp bend—unnatural, almost a right angle. I force my expression to stay neutral, keep my face still, controlled.
Mike motions me closer.
I take the two steps toward him.
His hand lands on my hip, grounding me again, while the other trails slowly up my body, sending small shivers across my skin until he reaches between my legs. His fingers slide inside me, curling, pressing.
My body reacts instantly.
I lean into him without thinking.
“I let them pregame for me,” he whispers, voice low. “They got you warmed up. Rubbing themselves all over you.” His fingers move, deliberate, knowing. “You’re already dripping down my hand.”
He pulls his fingers out and shows me, then licks them clean.
My breath catches.
His hand disappears into his jacket and comes back with a condom. He tears it open, rolls it on without hesitation. I watch him, waiting—waiting to feel something, anything.
A spark.
A pull.
Something.
But there’s nothing.
Is this what it feels like? When it doesn’t matter? When it’s just… physical?
I don’t like it.
Not at all.
Mike pulls me closer, lifting me easily until my legs wrap around him. He’s still dressed from the waist up, and it only makes everything feel more surreal.
Then—
Oh.
My.
Fucking.
God.
He thrusts inside me, and it hits—perfectly, violently, directly on that spot. My entire body jolts, shaking. There’s no buildup, no warning. Just impact.
I unravel instantly.
My back arches, breath gone, vision blurring.
“That’s right,” he groans. “It’s good, isn’t it?”
“Yes—” I drag the word out, breathless, shaking.
He smacks my ass, hard.
“Bounce, you mouthy little bitch.”
And I do.
Like a reflex. Like my body belongs to him in that moment. His hand grips my lower back, holding me in place while his face buries in my chest. His mouth closes around my nipples, pulling, biting just enough.
I chase the next orgasm without even thinking.
It crashes into me just as fast as the first—sudden, overwhelming, unfamiliar. There’s no slow climb, no anticipation. Just a drop.
It’s different.
Wrong and right all at once.
Mike’s hand slides up, smearing my lipstick across my cheek, my mouth.
“You look so beautiful when you unravel,” he says.
Then his lips are on mine—hard, messy, teeth and tongue. I respond automatically, my hands moving from his shoulders to his shirt. I grab the fabric and rip it open from the bottom.
Buttons scatter.
And—
Fuck.
Abs. Defined. Veins tracing under his skin.
I stare for half a second too long before my hands move over him, exploring, feeling. He grunts, his grip tightening on my ass, forcing me to move faster, harder.
“Fuck… you’re so tight,” he groans.
And then he’s coming.
His body stills, his forehead pressing against my chest, both of us breathing hard. His hands rest on my breasts, softer now. He kisses each one, slow, almost reverent.
And that—
That stirs something.
Something small.
Something I didn’t expect.
Until he looks up at me.
And it disappears.
God, I hate that. I hate how superficial that makes me feel. I want to be better than that. I want it not to matter.
But my body—
My body feels nothing for him.
“Thank you,” he says quietly, “for not ruining the mood by asking about it.”
I frown slightly. “About what?”
“The bend,” he says, softer now. “It broke. Didn’t heal right. Reverse cowgirl.” He lets out a quiet chuckle, looking down. “Would not recommend it.”
I reach out, lifting his chin so he has to look at me.
“You’re bent like a fucking sex toy,” I say bluntly. “That was insane. I’ve never felt anything like it.”
For once, I’m not the one being told I feel different.
For once, it’s him.
“Do you want to shower?” he asks, still catching his breath.
I nod.
But even as I do, my mind drifts.
It doesn’t stay here.
It doesn’t stay with him.
It goes somewhere else entirely—
To Ivan.
To Dimitri.
Where are they right now?
What are they doing?
Who are they with?
And why the hell am I thinking about them?