Twisted Ivy

Chapter 3: WET DREAMS

I woke up soaked. Not like a little damp, not like maybe I was sweating. No. I was drenched. Thighs slick. Sheets ruined. My pulse was still slamming like someone had just dragged me out of a body. Or into one. And the worst part? I had c*m in my sleep. Hard.

No warning. No lead-up. Just Jasper’s voice in my ear, his fingers in my throat, and my body arching like a bow before I even knew I was dreaming. I woke up gasping. Shivering. Empty in a way that was ugly. The kind of orgasm that felt like a confession. And I didn’t even know what he had said in the dream... just that it had made me come so hard I had bitten down on my own lip and tasted blood. The shame was immediate. Hot and raw and sticky.

I kicked off the blanket. My skin itched. My chest ached. My body wasn’t mine. I was still trembling. Still f*****g wet. My panties were ruined. My sheets were a war zone. And my hands? Shaking like I had murdered someone and was still holding the knife. I tried to breathe. In. Out. Slow. Normal. But there was nothing normal about dreaming about the same man over and over and cumming in your sleep like a b***h in heat. And not just any man. Jasper.

The one who never touched me. Never kissed me. Just… spoke, and stared, and ruined me from across a room. It was always the same in the dream. I was wearing something too thin. He was watching me from the dark. His hands were everywhere... except they weren’t. Because I never actually saw him touch me. It was just the idea of his hands. His mouth. His voice. Saying things I couldn’t repeat because if I said them out loud I’d c*m again, and this mattress couldn’t take another soaking. Jesus Christ. What was wrong with me?

I got up, dragging myself to the bathroom like a ghost with regrets. My legs were still weak. My inner thighs were still sticky. My n*****s were hard and sore like I had come in layers.

I looked in the mirror. I didn’t recognize her. Not just the mascara smudges or the wild hair or the bite mark on my own shoulder. It was her eyes. Mine. Wrecked. Glazed. Still needy. Like she hadn’t had enough. Like she wanted more.

I stripped. Let the nightwear fall off like dead skin.

Stood under the shower until the water was scalding. It didn’t help. I closed my eyes. And there he was again. Behind me. In the steam. Breathing down my neck. His voice like a hand around my throat. “You thought you could run from this?”

I shook my head. Scrubbed harder. But his laugh followed me into the tile.

Back in my room, I wrapped the towel around my body and sat on the edge of the bed like it was about to bite me. I should have stopped this. I should have stopped thinking about him. But instead, I sat back, spread my legs, and slid my hand down. Just once. Just to see. Just to prove I still owned myself.

And the second my fingers grazed the slick mess between my legs, my body jolted like it had been waiting for permission. My head tipped back. My mouth opened. But it wasn’t my name I heard in my mind. It was his. Jasper.

I circled my c**t once. Twice. Thrice... Faster. Harder. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted his voice in my ear. I wanted his hand in my hair. I wanted his boots at my knees while I begged for... No. Stop. I pulled away, gasping. I couldn’t even c*m without him anymore. That was the truth... The dirty, brutal, irreversible truth.

It was like my cumming lay in his hand. That was the worst part? The part that was dripping down my thighs while I pretended I was still in control. My hand slipped back down anyway. This time I didn’t even try to lie to myself. I pressed two fingers right against where I was aching. Circled. Pressed again. A little harder. My body reacted like it was starving. But I wasn’t chasing pleasure.

I was chasing a ghost. And his name was Jasper.

I closed my eyes, imagined him behind me again. Shirt undone. Belt hanging open. That f*****g stare that made my throat close up.

“Louder,” he said in my head. “I want them to hear how ruined you are.”

And I swear.... I swear... I could almost feel his breath on the back of my neck. That was when it happened. My body convulsed. My fingers curled. And I came with a moan so loud I slapped my hand over my mouth halfway through, like it might crawl out of me and tell the truth. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t sweet. It was f*****g filthy. And it left me shaking—not from the orgasm, from the fear that I had already passed the point of return.

I stared at the ceiling, panting. One hand between my legs, the other gripping the edge of the mattress like it was holding me together. What the f**k was happening to me? I used to think I was strong. That I had control. That I could want someone and not need them. That I could fantasize and then move on. But this wasn’t a fantasy anymore. It was a sickness. And Jasper was the fever that wouldn’t break.

He didn’t even have to touch me. Didn’t have to look at me. I just had to remember the sound of his voice. The way his eyes dragged down my body in that hallway. The way he said “curious.” And suddenly my spine ached like I had been branded. No one had ever made me feel like this. Like I was one word away from begging. From falling to my knees and offering myself up like a gift wrapped in shame and spit.

And the thing that made it worse? I thought he knew.

I rolled off the bed. My legs barely held. The towel’s still on the floor. My panties were ruined. My sheets were a crime scene. I should have cleaned up. I should have done something. Instead, I walked to the mirror.

Stood there. Looked. Really looked.

My hair was a mess. There was a flush high on my cheeks. My chest was heaving. My eyes were glassy and dark and wild. And my thighs were still wet.

I lifted the hem of my nightwear. Stared at myself. Parted my legs just enough to see the slick between them. Just enough to feel humiliated by my own body. And then I whispered it. To the reflection. To the cracked, f****d-up girl staring back.

“You wanted him to break you.”

And she smiled.

I wondered if Leo was jerking off to Jasper right now.

I wondered if he was in his dorm, behind that heavy Saint Ivy door, curtains drawn, hand slick, eyes glazed, thinking about the same man I had just come to. It wouldn’t have been the first time. And the worst part? I didn’t even feel shocked. Just tired. Tired of pretending I didn’t know what Leo was. Tired of pretending he hadn’t f****d me to prove he wasn’t.

It was three months ago.

Summer. Our mother and his father were out of town, playing rich and tragic somewhere in Europe. Leo was home, pacing like an animal. Jumpy. Sweaty. Weird. I caught him in the guest room. Laptop open. Porn playing.

Not straight porn. Not even bi-curious porn. Gay porn. Rough, desperate, anonymous hotel-room gay porn.

He didn’t see me watching at first. Didn’t hear me walk in. Not over the sound of his own ragged breathing or the frantic wet slap of his fist around his c**k. But when he did? Oh, he froze. Like I had caught him mid-murder. Like I was the secret. I didn’t say anything. I just tilted my head. Looked at him. His chest heaved. His eyes narrowed.

And then… he stood up.

Still hard. Still leaking. Still furious.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he said, voice shaking.

“I won’t,” I replied, like a good b***h, if there’s something like that.

“I mean it, Aria.”

... I said, “Okay.”

He walked toward me. And I knew what was about to happen.

I could’ve stopped it.

I didn’t.

I think I wanted it... I can’t remember.

He kissed me like a man trying to drown something. His guilt. His confusion. His need to feel like he still owned something straight. He pulled me down to the floor. Tore off my shirt. Shoved his fingers between my legs like he wanted to punish me for knowing the truth.

And I let him… I let him f**k me.

Fast. Sloppy... Silent.

He came too fast. Didn’t look me in the eye. Didn’t speak when he zipped up and left.

I stayed on the floor. Naked. Used. Alone.

And I still can’t decide who I hated more for it: him… or me.

Now, every time I saw him watching Jasper? It was there. The crack. The twitch. The way his jaw tensed when Jasper laughed. The way he pretended not to look, and then stared when no one else was watching. He wanted him. So badly it made his skin itch.

And me? I was the girl he used to scrub himself clean. The straight alibi. The distraction. The filthy mistake.

The difference is, I didn’t pretend anymore.... Jasper didn’t know. I didn’t think.

But maybe he did.

Maybe he liked it.

Maybe he got off on knowing he’s the reason Leo couldn’t sleep at night. Couldn’t f**k anyone without picturing his face. Couldn’t breathe around him.

Same as me.

I thought about it sometimes.... Leo and I... on our knees.

Jasper standing over both of us, deciding who he’d touch first.

Who he’d ruin more.

Who’d beg louder.

It wasn’t a fantasy.

It was a threat.

Because we were already there...

We just hadn’t said it out loud yet.