Twisted Ivy

Ivy didn’t welcome me… It looked me dead in the eye, spit on the floor, and said, “You? Here? Cute.” And honestly, fair. I wasn’t legacy. I wasn’t rich. I wasn’t even Hale by blood. Just by scam. My mother married money, murdered it, and repackaged me in pearls and silence like that could pass me off as old money instead of a glorified con. Now I was here, hauling my suitcase like it had a body in it... and maybe it did, metaphorically, and following my stepbrother, Leo, who had been weirdly tense since we left the house. Not new. Just louder than usual. “Dorm’s in the east wing,” he muttered without turning around. Jaw clenched like someone told him his porn history was public. He adjusted his jacket. Looked over his shoulder. Someone was watching. Multiple someones, actually. That was the thing about Saint Ivy... it breathed voyeurs. The walls had ears. The chandeliers had eyes. The students? Monsters dressed like influencers. Everyone had a secret and a s*x tape, sometimes both. I hadn’t even stepped inside and my p***y already knew I was in danger. And then I saw him… Second-floor balcony. Railing. Black coat. Half a shirt. All sin. Jasper Blackwell. A name I’d heard from Leo more times than I cared to count. “Best friend,” whatever the f**k that meant. I’d always imagined someone clean-cut. Boring. Someone who recycled. This was not that. This was the kind of man who looked like he f****d girls and then ghosted them so poetically they wrote essays about it. He didn’t lean on the railing so much as drape himself across it like a threat. Then he looked at me. Not “saw me.” Looked. Like he was already picturing my mouth full and my hands tied behind my back. I hated how fast my thighs reacted. The betrayal was instant. And of course, Leo noticed. “Don’t even look at him,” he snapped. I blinked. “I wasn’t.” “You were.” He brushed my wrist like he was trying to say something with skin instead of words, then stopped himself and kept walking like I was a mistake he couldn’t take back. Which was fair. I’d been called worse. The dorm smelled like lavender, money, and girls who cried into silk pillows. My kind of place. I collapsed onto the bed, already sweating, already regretting every decision that led here. I hadn't even started yet, and my thighs were already sticky with tension I couldn’t shake. I closed my eyes for two seconds, turned my head to breathe, and... There it was… A black card. No name. Just one line: "You’ll look better on your knees." Oh. Okay. Not subtle. My heart did this annoying flutter. My p***y twitched like it had opinions. And me, because I am weak and horny and stupid in all the ways that matter, didn’t scream or report it or burn the school down. I slid the card under my pillow like a girl keeping a love note. A threatening, definitely inappropriate love note. But still. I folded my legs together. They didn’t listen. Dinner was a masquerade. Nobody wore masks, but they all smiled like something sharp hid underneath. Leo sat beside me, stiff and nervous and faking it so hard I could smell the effort. Across the hall, Jasper was surrounded. Laughing with a girl in a silk choker who was absolutely f*****g her spoon. The whole room was lit with too much gold, and I was starting to feel like a blood sacrifice. He didn’t look at me. Which was worse than if he had. I hated the way my n*****s tightened under my blouse when he licked his thumb. I hated that I noticed. I hated that I wanted him to notice me noticing. I hated me. Leo kept watching Jasper too, but his stare was different. Not hunger. More like heartbreak. I filed that away. Along with the fact that Leo hadn’t touched his food and kept glancing at me like I was the problem. Which, also fair. Back in my room, I stripped down, sprawled across the bed, and tried to be normal. Didn’t work. Because my body was already playing a slideshow of Jasper’s mouth. His hands. That stare. My legs slid open like they’d been waiting for permission. I closed my eyes. Imagined him behind me. Not soft. Not sweet. Just there, grabbing me by the hair, shoving into me like I owed him something. He wouldn’t ask. He’d growl. And bite. And f**k. And praise me like it was a punishment. I came so fast I hated myself. Then I did it again. Fingers slick. Teeth in the pillow. Whispered his name like a girl with no self-respect. “Jasper…” My voice cracked. My hips shook. My p***y pulsed like it knew it had just betrayed the entire female species. And then… footsteps. Outside the door. I froze. Not scared, just dramatic… Someone paused. Paper slid under the door. Slick sound. Deliberate. I waited. Ten seconds. Nothing. I wrapped myself in the blanket, stood up on wobbly legs, and padded to the door like the i***t in every horror movie. Picked up the card. One line. Same handwriting. "Next time, keep the lights on." I smiled, not sweetly. Like a girl who knew exactly how doomed she was and couldn’t f*****g wait.