Bound By Vengeance

The key turned stiffly in the lock, sticking halfway—just like everything else in Dan’s shitty apartment complex. Carmen shoved her shoulder against the door, teeth gritted, and stumbled inside to the scent of stale beer and unwashed sheets. Three weeks. Three weeks since she’d walked in on him buried balls-deep in some redhead who definitely wasn’t her sister, his thick cock glistening between the stranger’s thighs. The memory burned behind her eyelids every time she blinked.

Her sneakers kicked an empty pizza box aside as she yanked open the closet door. Lianne’s sweaters hung limp between Dan’s flannel graveyard, smelling faintly of lavender and regret. Carmen grabbed them in fistfuls, fabric stretching under her nails. A floorboard creaked behind her.

“You gonna say hello?”

The voice—low, amused—made Carmen freeze mid-reach. She hadn’t heard him come in. Dan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, wearing nothing but sweatpants slung dangerously low on his hips. The same fucking sweatpants she’d seen pooled around his ankles three weeks ago while he drove into that redhead like a man starving. Her throat tightened. He was average—red hair, clean shaven, shoulders just broad enough to not look frail—but his grin was of someone who knew exactly what he was working with below the belt.

“You don’t knock?” she snapped, gripping Lianne’s sweater like a shield.

Dan shrugged, his smirk deepening as his gaze dragged over her—slow, deliberate. “My place.” His fingers toyed with the waistband of his sweats. That fucking look. Like he could already picture her on her knees.

Carmen’s pulse hammered against her ribs. She should’ve left. Should’ve thrown the sweaters in his smug face and walked out. But her feet stayed rooted. “You’re disgusting,” she shouted.

Dan chuckled—dark, knowing—and rolled his shoulders. “You watched.” Not a question. A fact.

Carmen’s stomach lurched. Three minutes. That’s how long she’d stood there, frozen in the doorway, while the redhead arched back on Dan’s big cock, her thighs shaking, nails raking his chest as she came—hard, messy, loud. The way her body clenched, the obscene slap of skin, Dan’s groan vibrating through the room like a struck chord. Carmen had swallowed, mouth dry, heat pooling low in her soul before disgust yanked her back to reality.

Now, under the flickering kitchen light. “You liked it,” he murmured. Her traitorous body tightened. That was the worst part—that she’d watched. “Admit it. You came home early hoping to see exactly that.”

Carmen’s pulse was a trapped hummingbird. The redhead hadn’t been his first—her sister had hinted as much. Lianne, who barely raised her voice above library-level, had sounded like a pornstar in Dan’s bed. Carmen had heard it through the walls once, visiting unannounced—those moans, the begging, the way her sister’s voice fractured "Dan—fuck—please—".

Dan's smirk widened now, reading Carmen’s hesitation. She could still see it—the redhead’s thighs trembling, her breasts bouncing as Dan fucked her with slow, devastating precision. Not jackhammering, not selfish. The kind of thrusts that made women lose their minds, then their dignity. Carmen inhaled sharply as her fingers curled into the loose fabric of his sweatpants, tugging.

His cock sprang free—thick, semi erect—and her stomach clenched. It was obscene. He wasn’t even fully hard yet, and already the sight of him filled her with greed. Carmen swallowed, her pulse hammering in her body. She hated him, his smugness and hated the way he’d betrayed her sister. But her fingers didn’t stop. They slid lower, there was no hair at the base of his cock.

Dan exhaled sharply when her fingertips brushed the smooth skin. “Shaved?” she muttered, trying to sound disdainful. He chuckled, moving his hips slightly—just enough for his cock to twitch against her palm. “You like it.” His voice was even not demeanming or judgmental.

Carmen swallowed. She should stop. Should walk away. But her fingers wrapped around him, hesitant at first, then tighter as she flicked her thumb over the tip of his swollen cock. Precum smeared across her skin.

Dan’s smirk was gone—his breath uneven, lips slightly parted. No judgment in his face. Just heat. The same heat that coiled in Carmen’s body like a struck match. She didn’t understand why him cheating—her sister’s boyfriend, betraying her—turned her on. Society screamed it was wrong, twisted. But disgust had melted into desire. The way his cock felt in her grip, the memory of the redhead’s thighs shaking around him, the way he’d fucked her like he owned her—it all throbbed in Carmen’s spirit. Hate? There was no room for it now. Just hunger.

Her fingers tightened. Dan groaned. Carmen’s pulse raced. She could feel the weight of him—solid, thick, alive—and suddenly, the thought of tasting him overwhelmed her. She dropped to her knees before she could second-guess it.

"You have the perfect cock," she whispered—not sweetly, not coy, but with the raw hunger of someone who’d spent too many nights replaying the memory of it disappearing inside another woman. She exhaled against his length. Her tongue flicked out—testing, teasing—before she flattened it against the underside of his shaft, licking upward with deliberate slowness. Dan’s hips jerked forward instinctively, his hand tangling in her hair.

Carmen smirked around him. She knew what she was doing—the way her lips stretched tight around his girth, the way her fingers circled the base where her mouth couldn’t reach. She’d sucked cock before—boyfriends, one-night stands, even a drunken hookup with her best friend Olivia after too many margaritas—but this? His thickness made her jaw ache after barely thirty seconds, her lips barely able to close around him. Drool slid down her chin as she worked her tongue frantically.

She loved it. Loved the way his fingers tightened in her hair—not pulling, not yet—just holding. Loved the shuddering breath he let out when she hollowed her cheeks and sucked hard. Loved the dizzying realization that she hadn’t even fucked him yet and already she was picturing him inside someone else—the redhead, legs spread, begging for it—while Carmen knelt there, watching, her fingers creeping between her own thighs. The fantasy hit her like a punch: Dan fucking the redhead, her moans bouncing off the walls, Carmen’s hand shoved down her thong, rubbing while she watched him fuck another girl.

But reality was better. Dan groaned and she could feel the way his cock throbbed against her tongue.

Carmen pulled back, saliva stringing between her lips and the flushed head of his cock.

Dan smiled. Not the usual smug smirk—something darker, more deliberate. His fingers loosened in her hair, trailing down to cup her jaw instead. “You’re amazing” he murmured.

Carmen didn’t care. Her lips were too busy stretching around his cock again, her tongue swirling just beneath the head where she knew it made men cum. But Dan didn’t buck into her mouth like the others. Didn’t lose control. Carmen pulled back. His cock glistened, slick with her spit, throbbing visibly.

Carmen knew why the redhead hadn’t stopped fucking Dan when she’d caught them tangled together—why the woman had just arched back harder, whimpered louder, let him sink deeper despite being watched. Because this—Dan’s cock thick between her lips, the ache in her jaw, the taste of him flooding her mouth—was a high. If Lianne walked in right now, Carmen wouldn’t stop. Couldn’t. His fingers twisted in her hair, the wet sounds of her mouth sucking him filled the air like some filthy confession.

She’d had men unravel after two minutes of this—whining, bucking, cumming down her throat with a choked sob like she’d captured their soul. But Dan? His breathing was steady. Carmen’s tongue dragged along his shaft and she flicked her eyes up—his gaze met hers, dark with lust. He knew. Knew she expected him to lose it, to grab her head and fuck into her throat like every other guy who couldn’t handle her mouth.

Carmen hated him for it and loved him for it. Loved the way his thumb brushed her bottom lip—not forcing her.

"You’re the best," Dan murmured—not mocking, not gloating—just facts. His fingers traced the edge of her jawline, sticky with her own spit, before tilting her chin up. Watching her like he wanted to own her. He wasn’t even panting.

His cock throbbed steadily in agreement, thick against her tongue when she took half of his cock in again.

Carmen hated the way her body betrayed her—how her thighs clenched, how her breath hitched when his fingers tightened ever so slightly in her hair. She wanted him to take. Wanted him to shove her onto her back and fill her without permission, without her having to beg for it like some **** thing. But asking would mean admitting—admitting she'd fantasized about him while lying awake at night, her fingers working furiously between her legs, replaying the sounds of Dan fucking someone else.

She pulled off his cock with a wet pop, glaring up at him through her lashes. "You think you're so fucking special?" she muttered, swiping the back of her hand across her slick chin. "Because you can last longer than some frat boy?"

Dan exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers still tangled in her hair—not pulling, just holding. "No," he admitted, voice rough. His thumb traced the swell of her bottom lip, smearing spit. "But you do."

Carmen's breath hitched. Fuck, he was right. The realization twisted in her gut—hot, undeniable. She didn’t want sweet words or gentle touches. She wanted him to shut the hell up and fuck her until her brain melted.

Her fingers dug into the meat of his thighs, nails scraping skin as she dragged herself upright without breaking eye contact. Dan’s cock bobbed between them, flushed and leaking. Carmen didn’t kiss him—she bit his lower lip. He groaned into her mouth.

She wasn’t going to ask. Wasn’t going to beg.

Carmen grabbed Dan’s hand—and dragged him toward the bedroom without a word. She didn’t turn around. Didn’t let herself hesitate. His bed was unmade, sheets tangled like he’d just rolled out of them—or like someone had been fucked in them hours before.

Her fingers hooked under the hem of her shirt, wrenching it over her head in one sharp motion. The fabric caught on her earring, tugged—she didn’t care. The sting barely registered. Next came the bra, tossed somewhere behind her with a careless flick. She kicked off her jeans, toeing her sneakers away without bothering to unlace them. The thong followed—peeled down her thighs, catching at her ankles before she shook it off with a frustrated jerk.

Dan exhaled sharply when she climbed onto the bed, her knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips.

Carmen didn’t give him time to react—didn’t let herself think. She gripped his cock, and sank down in one motion.

She choked on air, her thighs shaking instantly, her nails digging into his chest as her vision whited out. He was big—thicker than any man she’d ever taken, beyond what she thought she could handle. The last guy who’d bragged about his "big dick energy" had lasted all of five pathetic minutes inside her before whimpering into her neck. She’d laughed afterward, relieved she’d made him wrap it up—otherwise, he wouldn’t have even lasted that long.

But Dan? He didn’t move. Didn’t thrust. Didn’t even breathe hard. His fingers curled loosely around her hips, thumbs pressing into the dimples above her ass, like he was waiting—letting her adjust, letting her decide. The bastard. Carmen hated him for it. Hated that he could read her body better than any lover she’d ever had.

Then he said it—quiet, rough, like he was confessing something he shouldn’t: "You fuck so good."

Carmen's breath stalled. The words punched through her like a live wire, her hips stuttering around him, thighs trembling. It wasn't the compliment itself—she'd heard plenty of those, usually slurred or ****—but the way he said it. Like he wasn't trying to flatter her, like he was just stating a fact. Like she was his fact. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, nails biting skin, but Dan didn’t flinch. Just watched her, his gaze locked on hers as she rode him, slow and deliberate, her body working to accommodate every inch.

That was the moment—her thighs clenched around him, his cock stretching her impossibly wide—when she understood Lianne. Not the betrayal. Not the heartbreak. But the nights she'd heard her sister moaning through the walls, the way she'd whispered about Dan's stamina like it was a curse and a blessing. Carmen's stomach tightened. If she were Lianne, she wouldn't just tolerate Dan fucking someone else. She'd pick them out herself. Watch. Maybe even join. The fantasy hit her like a freight train: Dan's hands gripping another woman's hips, Carmen beneath them both, tasting herself on his cock while he fucked someone new into the mattress.

Her orgasm ripped through her without warning. Carmen gasped, her back arching violently as her body clamped down on Dan’s cock in relentless, pulsing waves. The pleasure was so sharp it bordered on pain—her thighs shook uncontrollably, her fingers scrambling for purchase against his chest as she collapsed forward, forehead pressed to his collarbone. Breath ragged, skin slick, she could feel him still rock-hard inside her, barely moved by her climax.

Dan’s hand slid up her spine, fingers tangling in the damp strands of her hair. “That’s it,” he murmured, voice thick with approval. Carmen shuddered, her body still twitching around him. She wanted to hate the way his praise settled under her skin like a brand. Wanted to hate how effortlessly he’d unraveled her—how, even now, her hips were already rocking again, chasing the friction of him inside her, still impossibly hard.

She lifted her head just enough to meet his gaze. "I will fuck you," she said, breathless but deliberate, "but I won’t date you." The words tasted like a lie—like she was trying to carve distance where none existed. Dan’s cock twitched inside her, and she clenched reflexively, moaning despite herself.

Dan exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled, his fingers tightening in her hair. "Didn’t ask you to." His voice was rough, amused. Like he already knew she’d be back. Like she was already his.

Carmen’s hips rolled, her body moving on instinct—slow, then faster, grinding down until his cock hit that spot inside her that made her vision blur. She’d fucked men who came the second she clenched around them, who groaned like wounded animals when she rode them like this. But Dan? His cock throbbed inside her, thick and relentless, and she could feel every ridge, every pulse, like he was fucking her from the inside out without even moving.

God, her sister was right—his stamina was a blessing and a curse. A curse because Carmen’s thighs burned, her muscles trembling from the effort of chasing another orgasm while he just watched her, his fingers tracing idle circles on her hips like he had all the time in the world. A blessing because she’d never been so full, so impossibly used in the best way. Lianne had once drunkenly confessed that Dan could go for hours if she let him, that she’d had to tap out more than once, her body oversensitive and shaking. Carmen understood now. Her cunt ached, but she couldn’t stop—wouldn’t stop—not when every drag of his cock inside her sent sparks up her spine.

Dan’s hands slid up her sides, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts. “Tell me,” he murmured, voice low and rough like gravel.

Carmen’s breath hitched. “Tell you what?”

Dan’s fingers tightened on her hips, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh where her thighs met her body. “What you really want.” His voice was steady, unshaken—like he wasn’t the one buried inside her.

Carmen’s breath hitched, her skin burning under his touch. The truth sat like a stone in her throat. If Lianne walked in right now—if the door swung open and her sister stood there, wide-eyed, lips trembling with betrayal—Carmen wouldn’t stop. She’d keep riding Dan’s cock, keep grinding down until he filled her completely, keep moaning like the greedy fucking traitor she was. Worse? She’d want Lianne to see. To watch. To understand exactly what Dan did to women—how he wrecked them, owned them, left them shaking and ruined and needing more.

Dan’s fingers tightened around her hips. “Tell me,” he repeated, voice rough with restraint.

Carmen blinked. The words had hit her ears—she’d heard them—but her brain was a fog of heat and friction, his cock buried so deep inside her that coherent thought was impossible. She opened her mouth, but all that came out was a whimper as her thighs trembled, her hips stuttering mid-thrust. His grip on her waist was the only thing keeping her upright, his thumbs pressing bruises into her skin like anchors.

Another orgasm hit her—sudden, ruthless—and Carmen collapsed forward with a bitten-off scream, her forehead slamming against Dan’s shoulder as her body convulsed around him. Her vision whited out, her muscles locking in violent, shuddering waves. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Just felt—the way her cunt clenched like a vice, greedy and involuntary, milking his cock even as her brain short-circuited from oversensitivity.

But Dan didn’t cum. He was still rock-hard.

Carmen’s breath came in ragged bursts against his collarbone, her body slick and trembling. She felt him shift beneath her—not thrusting, not chasing his own pleasure—just adjusting his grip on her hips. His thumbs pressed into the bruises he’d already made.

"I need a break," she whispered, the words barely audible against his damp skin.

Dan didn't answer—just tilted his head slightly, lips brushing her temple. The bastard wasn't even breathing hard. Carmen's thighs shook where they bracketed his hips, her inner muscles still fluttering around him in aftershocks. Three orgasms in, and he hadn't broken a sweat. Meanwhile, her vision kept blurring at the edges, her pulse rabbiting in her throat like she'd sprinted a mile.

The exhaustion hit her like a weighted blanket—heavy, warm, irresistible. Her eyelids fluttered shut without permission. Dan's fingers trailed down her spine, slow and steady, and the last thing she registered was his quiet chuckle vibrating through her cheek where it pressed against his chest.