Chapter 5: New beginnings
The coffee machine gurgled its last breath just as Anna’s phone buzzed against the counter. She didn’t need to check the screen to know who it was. The same three letters had burned into her retinas over the last two weeks since that night—**Mark**.
She poured the coffee with unsteady hands, the steam curling up like the memory of his fingers inside her. Two weeks of silence from him, and now this. A single message: *"You left something here."*
Her pulse hammered in her throat. A lie. She hadn’t left anything. It was bait. A hook. And she was already opening her mouth for it.
The front door rattled. Keys jingled. Anna’s spine stiffened as John’s voice called out, “Babe? You home?”
She shoved her phone into her pocket like it was radioactive. “Kitchen!”
John shuffled in, his work shirt rumpled, his hair still damp from the post-shift shower. He looked exhausted. Happy. Oblivious. He kissed her cheek, his lips warm and familiar, and reached for the coffee. “God, I needed this.”
The guilt twisted deeper, a corkscrew in her gut. She forced a smile. “Long day?”
He groaned, collapsing onto a stool. “Some asshole backed into the delivery van. Three hours of paperwork.” He sipped, then frowned. “You okay? You’re all… twitchy.”
Anna’s fingers dug into the counter. “Fine. Just tired.”
The lie settled between them, thick as the coffee grounds in the filter.
John studied her, his gaze too perceptive. Then, mercifully, the doorbell rang.
Anna nearly jumped out of her skin.
John raised an eyebrow. “Expecting someone?”
“No. Maybe it’s—”
Aunt Lydia’s voice chirped through the intercom. “Anna? Sweetie, it’s us!”
Anna exhaled. Right. The new roommates.
She buzzed them in.
Lydia bustled through the door first, her arms loaded with suitcases, her perfume a cloud of gardenias. Behind her, Chloe hovered in the threshold, all long limbs and nervous energy, her duffel bag slung over one shoulder.
“Surprise!” Lydia trilled. “We’re early!”
John stood, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Hey, no problem. Anna’s been prepping the guest room all week.”
Anna forced another smile. “Yeah. It’s ready.”
Lydia beamed, already unloading her bags. “Oh, you’re angels.” She turned to Chloe. “Sweetheart, say hi.”
Chloe stepped forward, her gaze darting between them. “Hi.”
Anna had seen Chloe only once in the last three years—at a family reunion where the girl had been a quiet, coltish sixteen-year-old buried in books. Now, at eighteen, she was… different.
Not just older. *Older*.
Her jeans hugged narrow hips. Her tank top dipped low enough to show the faint shadow of cleavage. Her lips were bitten pink, her eyes too wide, too knowing.
John cleared his throat. “Uh, hey, Chloe. You grew up.”
Chloe’s lips curled, just slightly. “Yeah. I do that.”
Lydia clapped her hands. “Okay! Let’s get settled. Chloe, honey, take your stuff to your room. Anna, show her?”
Anna nodded stiffly. “This way.”
The hallway felt too narrow. Chloe’s presence behind her was a slow, quiet burn.
Chloe’s presence behind her was a slow, quiet burn.
The guest room smelled of lemon cleaner and fresh sheets, the afternoon light cutting sharp rectangles across the floor. Anna set Chloe’s duffel bag on the bed, the weight of it heavier than expected. “Here you go. Bathroom’s down the hall.”
Chloe didn’t move. She stood in the doorway, one hip cocked, her fingers playing with the frayed edge of her tank top. “Thanks.”
Silence stretched, thick and unspoken. Anna could feel the girl’s eyes on her—not shy, not nervous. Just *watching*.
Anna cleared her throat. “You need anything else?”
Chloe’s lips twitched. “Nope.” She stepped forward, reaching for the bag. Her arm brushed Anna’s, warm and deliberate. “I’m good.”
Anna stepped back, her skin prickling.
Downstairs, John and Lydia’s laughter floated up, muffled through the floorboards. The normalcy of it felt like a joke.
Chloe unzipped her bag, pulling out a wrinkled sweater. “So. You and John.”
Anna stiffened. “What about us?”
Chloe shrugged. “You seem happy.”
The word *happy* landed like a dare. Anna’s phone burned in her pocket. *You left something here.*
Chloe’s gaze flicked to her. “You sure *you’re* okay?”
Anna forced a smile. “Fine.”
She turned to leave, but Chloe’s voice stopped her. “Hey.”
Anna looked back.
Chloe tilted her head, her expression unreadable. “You ever feel like you’re pretending?”
Anna’s breath hitched. *Every fucking day.*
Before she could answer, a crash echoed from downstairs—glass shattering, Lydia’s startled yelp.
Anna bolted for the door.
The kitchen was chaos. Lydia stood frozen, a broken vase at her feet, water bleeding across the tile. John was already on his knees, picking up shards.
“Shit,” he muttered. “You okay?”
Lydia waved a hand, laughing nervously. “Oh, I’m a klutz. Always have been.”
Anna grabbed a towel, crouching beside John. Their hands brushed as they reached for the same piece. He didn’t pull away.
Lydia sighed. “I’ll get the dustpan.” She hurried off, leaving them alone.
John’s voice was low. “You sure you’re okay?”
Anna focused on the glass. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?”
John hesitated. Then, quieter: “You’ve been… different.”
Her fingers stilled. *Different*. As if he could sense the rot inside her, the way her skin still remembered Mark’s hands, his mouth, the stretch of him inside her.
She opened her mouth—to lie, to deflect—when movement caught her eye.
Chloe leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching them.
Her smirk said everything.
---
**Three days later**, Anna came home early.
The apartment was silent, the air thick with the scent of something floral—perfume, maybe, or soap. She dropped her keys on the counter, listening.
A noise.
Faint. Wet.
From the backyard.
Her pulse spiked.
She moved on instinct, her feet silent on the hardwood. The sliding door was cracked open, the curtain fluttering.
Then she saw them.
Chloe.
Fully naked, her pale skin glowing in the afternoon sun, kneeling on the patio stones. A man—older, broad-shouldered, his face shadowed by the angle—stood over her, his cock buried in her mouth.
Anna’s stomach dropped.
The man’s hand fisted in Chloe’s hair, guiding her, his voice a rough growl. “Yeah, just like that. Take it deep, you little slut.”
Chloe moaned, the sound vibrating around him, her fingers digging into his thighs.
Anna should’ve turned away. Should’ve left. But her body was stone.
The man’s hips jerked. “Fuck, you’re good at this. Who taught you? Huh? Who let you suck cock like this?”
Chloe pulled off just enough to gasp, “No one.”
He laughed, dark and pleased. “Bullshit. You were made for this.”
Anna’s breath was too loud. She stepped back—just as the man groaned, his cock pulsing in Chloe’s grip.
Thick ropes of cum splashed across her face, her lips, her chin. She didn’t flinch. Just licked her lips, her eyes heavy-lidded, satisfied.
Anna’s skin burned.
The man zipped up, murmuring something low before disappearing through the side gate.
Chloe stayed on her knees, wiping her face with the back of her hand.
Anna fled.
---
She waited until dinner.
Lydia hummed as she set the table, Chloe beside her, freshly showered, her hair still damp. John was late—again.
Anna’s fingers curled around her fork. “I saw something today.”
Lydia paused. “Oh?”
Chloe didn’t look up.
Anna kept her voice steady. “Chloe. In the backyard. With a man.”
Lydia’s expression didn’t change. Just a slow, knowing smile. “Ah.”
Anna’s chest tightened. “You *know*?”
Lydia sipped her wine. “Of course.”
Chloe smirked, twirling her pasta.
Anna’s voice dropped. “She’s *eighteen*.”
Lydia set her glass down. “And?”
The word hung there, sharp as a blade.
Anna stared.
Lydia leaned forward, her voice a whisper. “You think I don’t know what *you’ve* been doing?”
Anna’s blood turned to ice.
Lydia’s smile widened. “Girls like us… we *want* things. There’s no shame in that.” She reached out, patting Anna’s hand. “Let her have her fun.”
Chloe watched them both, her eyes gleaming.
Anna’s phone buzzed in her pocket.
She didn’t need to look to know who it was.
Anna's fingers twitched against her thigh, the phantom vibration of Mark's message still buzzing through her jeans like a live wire. The clink of silverware against plates was suddenly deafening. Chloe licked a drop of sauce from her bottom lip, slow and deliberate, her eyes never leaving Anna's face.
"You okay, sweetie?" Lydia tilted her head, the candlelight catching the smirk she didn't bother to hide. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Anna's throat tightened. She forced her hand away from her pocket. "I just—can't believe you're okay with *that*." She jerked her chin toward Chloe. "Random men in our backyard?"
Lydia laughed, light and airy, as if they were discussing the weather. "Oh, Anna. She's not some fragile thing. You should’ve seen her in Ibiza last summer—three guys at once, taking them like a champ." She sipped her wine, her gaze sharp over the rim. "You of all people should understand *hunger*."
The bite of implication hit like a slap. *You of all people*. Anna's pulse stuttered. The air between them thickened with everything unsaid—Mark's fingers between her legs, Tia's tongue tracing her spine, the way she'd moaned around Jack's cock like it was the only thing keeping her alive.
Chloe pushed her chair back, the legs screeching against the floor. "I'm done." She stood, stretching, the thin fabric of her tank riding up to reveal the smooth plane of her stomach. "Gonna shower."
Anna watched her go, the sway of her hips exaggerated, taunting. The bathroom door clicked shut, and the shower hissed to life a moment later.
Lydia leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You don’t have to pretend with me, Anna. I *know*."
Anna’s fork slipped from her fingers, clattering onto her plate. "Know what?"
"That look on your face right now?" Lydia chuckled, swirling her wine. "Same one Chloe gets when she’s remembering how a man tastes." She reached across the table, her fingers brushing Anna’s wrist. "You miss it, don’t you? The *freedom*."
Anna’s breath caught. The shower water pounded in the distance, rhythmic, relentless.
Lydia’s nails dug in, just slightly. "Tell me the truth. When was the last time John made you *scream*?"
The question punched through her, raw and humiliating. Because the answer was *never*, not like Mark had—not with his hands bruising her hips, his teeth sinking into her throat, his cock splitting her open until she sobbed from the sheer, *filthy* pleasure of it.
Anna swallowed hard. "It's not—"
"Not what? *Wrong*?" Lydia smirked. "Tell me, did you swallow for him? Let him paint your face? Or did he fuck that tight little ass you’ve been saving for marriage?"
Anna flinched. The images flooded back—Jack’s cum streaking her skin, Mark’s grip in her hair, Tia’s whispered *good girl* as she came untouched just from watching.
Lydia’s grip tightened. "Chloe was *born* for this. She doesn’t apologize. She doesn’t hide." She leaned closer, her breath hot against Anna’s ear. "*Neither should you.*"
The shower shut off.
Anna jerked back, her chair scraping loudly. "This is insane."
Lydia just smiled, slow and knowing. "Is it?" She stood, gathering the plates. "Think about it, Anna. *Really* think."
Anna fled to the balcony, the night air cool against her burning skin. The phone in her pocket weighed a thousand pounds.
She pulled it out.
Mark’s message glowed on the screen: *"You left something here."*
Beneath it, another, sent just now: *"Come get it. Tonight."*
Her thumb hovered.
Behind her, the balcony door slid open.
"Forgot my towel," Chloe murmured, stepping out in nothing but a sheen of water and a smirk. She leaned against the railing, dripping onto the wood, her nipples pebbled from the chill. "So. You gonna go?"
Anna’s fingers trembled. "I don’t—"
Chloe laughed, low and throaty. "Yeah. You do." She turned, her bare ass glowing in the moonlight as she walked back inside. "Have fun."
The door clicked shut.
Anna exhaled, shaky, her body alight with something she couldn’t name.
She typed a single word: *"Where?"*
Mark’s reply was instant. *"You know."*
She did.
The apartment. The silk sheets. The candles.
Her pulse pounded between her legs, wet and aching.
She didn’t look back as she grabbed her keys and left.