You Are Mine To Desecrate

Chapter 7 --- Pathetic Me

Ava's POV

I clutched my phone to my chest, letting the warmth of that call settle hollow places my family had left behind.

I never had many people who loved me or cherished me. I never even knew my own mother. I never even knew if she would've loved me or not. Maybe she would have.

I was grateful for the little people who showed me love and care.. time to time. They reminded me of who I used to be. Who I still was beneath the pressure of adulthood and life.

I stood up from my bed, stripping off all my clothes, heading straight to the bathroom. I needed a hot bath to calm my nerves. I let the steams curl around me like a lover’s arms as I stepped into the bathroom. I twisted the knobs of the tub and let the hot water rush in, fragrant with rose-scented oils I barely remembered buying. My muscles ached in places I’d forgotten could ache—tight with stress, exhaustion, and something else I wasn’t ready to name.

The mirror above the sink fogged quickly, but not before I caught a glimpse of myself—my bare shoulders, flushed cheeks, and tired, haunted eyes. My reflection didn’t look like the composed CEO. It looked like a woman unraveling by the second.

I drew a heart shape on the mirror and stared at it for long. Tears threatened to fall from my eyes. When will I ever experience the feeling of being loved and cherished by someone? Not just a boyfriend and girlfriend relationship, I needed a family. Needed people to be by my side to motivate me. And not people who wanted only to use me, competite against me, bully me.

My thoughts went to Alexander. I remembered him back then in highschool. His smirks and tauts still haunted me... That's why we had turned out to be enemies, that's why I hated him to the core. And just lately, the devil found a way into my dreams.

I peeled off the rest of my clothes slowly, like I was shedding more than just fabric. As the steam kissed my skin, my thoughts—damn them—wandered where they weren’t supposed to.

Alexander Thompson.

His name shouldn’t still send shivers down my spine, but it did. And not because of fear. No, it was something darker. Something hotter.

I looked at my tempting n*****s from the mirror , I recalled how the devils made me squirm in my dreams as he sucked my n*****s, taking my whole areolar to his mouth. I gasped in pleasure. My hands went to my n*****s as I kneaded it. Needle-like pleasures I felt by my act made me moan. His face was what I saw when I closed my eyes. Those devilishly lips, so hella sexy.

My hands were still massaging my n****e as I stepped into the tub and sank beneath the water’s surface until it cradled me to the chin. My muscles relaxed. The heat seeped into my bones, but my mind burned hotter.

I closed my eyes. Images crashed over me like waves.

His hands gripping my waist… His lips brushing the curve of my neck… That damn smirk before he ruined me with just a look.

"Stupid, arrogant bastard," I murmured aloud, but my breath hitched as my hand drifted lower, beneath the water.

I didn’t mean to do it. At least, that’s what I told myself. But my body moved like it remembered something my mind tried to bury.

My fingers grazed the swell of my breast, circling the stiff peak. I bit down on my bottom lip, hard, as a moan slipped out, quiet and shameful.

"You’re disgusting, Ava," I whispered. "He made your life hell. He humiliated you."

But even as I tried to scold myself, my other hand slid between my thighs. A rush of sensation surged through me, and my head lolled back against the porcelain.

I imagined his mouth there. Hot and insistent. Teasing me with maddening slowness, saying things that made my ears burn even in dreams.

My legs shifted, spreading just a little more. Water sloshed gently as I touched myself with tentative pressure. My breath came faster.

“You want to pretend you don’t think about me,” his voice whispered in my head. “But your body remembers every touch I never gave you.”

God, I hated him.

I hated that even in my solitude, even in the safety of my locked apartment, he still owned parts of me I’d never given away.

My fingers moved in rhythm now, gentle at first, then faster. My other hand pinched lightly at my n****e, and I whimpered, legs tensing beneath the water.

I wanted to stop. I wanted to drown the memory of him. But the release coiled hot and heavy inside me, pulling taut like a string about to snap.

"Say my name," my mind whispered again, in his voice.

“No,” I gasped. “No, I won’t... I hate you.”

But I was close…so close. My back arched as the orgasm rolled through me, sharp and fast and utterly consuming. I bit down on a gasp, riding it out as shame and satisfaction mingled in my veins.

When it was over, I lay there in the water, my body spent, my mind raw.

Tears burned behind my eyes—but they didn’t fall. Instead, I stared at the ceiling, letting the guilt settle like ash on my skin.

"You’re pathetic," I whispered to myself. "He was a monster. He made high school hell."

And yet, my fingers still tingled from where they’d touched myself.

I washed quickly, scrubbing away what was left of the moment like it was sin under my fingernails. I didn’t want to remember what I’d just done. But I knew I would. The shame would follow me, stitched into my skin.

Wrapped in a towel, I returned to my bedroom, avoiding the mirror’s gaze. I wasn’t ready to face the woman in the reflection.

Not tonight.