Chapter 3: Lena rides Alex's thigh, her wetness soaking through his torn panties as she pins his wrists, her teeth sinking into his nipple while growling, 'Tell me what really happened to her or I'll make you come until you can't think straight.'
The purpled taste of that drugged drink still ghosted on Alex’s tongue as Lena moved, her weight settling over his hips, her bare cunt a hot, shocking pressure against his through the thin cotton of their underwear. “A roofie just makes you blank,” she hissed, grinding down in a slow, deliberate circle that forced a choked gasp from his throat. “It doesn’t install a whole new fucking person.” Her hands pinned his wrists to the futon, her strength surprising. “So talk, Alex. What did you really do?” She rocked harder, the friction a brutal counterpoint to her interrogation. “Did you kill her? Are you some sick ghost wearing her skin?”
“No,” he moaned, arching despite himself, the pleasure a traitorous flood. “I woke up in here. I swear.” Lena’s eyes were flint, searching his for a lie as her body moved, her damp heat soaking through the fabric, matching his own. “Prove it,” she demanded, yanking his panties aside and positioning herself, her swollen clit rubbing directly against his with a slick, maddening drag. “Tell me something only the thing inside her would know.”
His mind fractured, pleasure and panic fusing. “The scar!” he blurted. “You got it stealing your brother’s bike, not your dad’s. You were proving you could ride no-handed.” Lena froze, her rhythmic grinding stopping dead, her breath catching. That was the true story, one Ginnifer had never been told. Only Alex knew it. A shudder ran through her. “Fuck,” she whispered, the fight draining from her limbs, replaced by a dazed horror. She looked down at their bodies, joined, at the face of her friend. “Then she’s just… gone.” Her hips began to move again, but now the motion was desperate, seeking solace, a wet, messy slide of shared grief. Alex pulled her down into a kiss, salty with her tears, and let the rhythm consume them both.
Alex pulled her down into a kiss, salty with her tears, and let the rhythm consume them both. Her mouth was a furious, searching refuge, and he kissed back with a desperation that felt like drowning. Her hips settled into a grinding, wet tempo against his, the cotton barrier between them soaked and senseless.
“I don’t know,” he gasped against her lips, the words ripped from him between panting breaths. He broke the kiss, his forehead pressing against hers. “I have some of her memories, not all.”
Lena’s movements slowed, her dark eyes searching his, glowing with a fierce, protective intensity in the dim lamplight. Her hand slid between their bodies, fingers hooking into the waistband of his torn panties and her own, yanking them down in one rough, shared motion. Her bare cunt met his, a hot, slick shock of skin on skin, and he cried out, his fingers digging into her back. “Maybe she is in my body?” he whispered, the terrifying possibility hanging in the air between their sweating faces.
She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she shifted, guiding him, her hand a firm vise around his cock, and sank down onto him in one deep, claiming stroke. The fullness was shocking, brutal, a visceral anchor to this stolen flesh. She began to move, a hard, punishing rhythm that was more about fusion than pleasure. “Then find her,” Lena gritted out, each downward thrust punctuating her command. “You use everything you’ve got.” Her nails scored his shoulders. “You find out where your old body is, and you look it in the fucking eye.”