Page 93 of Controlled Burn
He'd seen enough to know she wanted it, needed it, and craved it, just like he did.
A wicked thrill coiled in his gut as he watched her disappear down the hall, the echo of her boots a private melody only he seemed to notice.
He wondered how far she'd go. How much more she'd show.
He wondered if next time, she'd look straight at the lens.
And he promised himself—
There would be a next time.
He wondered if she'd smile for the camera next time.
Chapter 34
Forced Obedience
Maddox
He shouldn’t be here.
Every part of Dean Maddox knew it. He told himself that every red light on the drive over was a sign. Told himself as he sat outside her building for nearly half an hour, engine idling, jaw clenched, palms sweating against the steering wheel.
But that didn’t stop him.
It was midnight, and he hadn’t slept for days—not really. Rachel was gone, for real this time. The house was too quiet. The empty bed gnawed at him. Every corner reeked of loss and failure. And Talia Cross was a fever behind his eyes he couldn’t shake, a phantom ache in his chest and groin.
He told himself he was driving by, just making sure she was safe. But he found himself parked outside her apartment, pulse thundering so loud he could barely hear his thoughts. He watched the porch light flicker, watched the shadow of her body cross the living room. Watched her—barefoot, legs bare, moving like a ghost in her own space.
He was supposed to leave.
Instead, he found himself at her door.
He knocked, sharp and desperate. Once. Twice.
He knew it was wrong. Knew he should turn around, walk away, beg for absolution. But watching her unravel like this—because of him, for him—was the only thing that made him feel alive anymore.
She answered on the third, squinting through the peephole, then opening the door half a crack. She was barefoot. Her legs were bare, boyshorts barely covering the curve of her ass. Her tank top was old, soft, crooked—one strap slipping down her tanned shoulder. Damp chestnut hair clung to her neck. Her eyes were bruised from lack of sleep, rimmed in yesterday’s mascara. The kind of exhaustion you can’t wash off.
Dean’s chest squeezed. She was a vision—wrecked, haunted, and so fucking beautiful he could hardly breathe.
“Dean?” Her voice was rough. She looked at him, wary and unafraid, and somehow that only made him angrier.
He stepped forward, crowding her back against the wall with his body, barely able to speak. “You let them fuck you,” he rasped. The words came out like broken glass—hurt and rage, raw and needy. “You let them fill you. Both of them. You let them use you—every inch, every hole.”
She stiffened, but she didn’t back down. Her chin tipped up, defiant. “You don’t get to be jealous.”
He gripped her jaw, thumb pressing hard into her cheek, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I saw it. I saw them—Ryan in yourmouth, Jake fucking you from behind. You took both of them, Talia. You begged for it. I saw your face.”
A flush crept up her neck—humiliation, anger, and something darker, something hotter. “You left me,” she shot back, her voice trembling. “You made me feel like nothing. Like I didn’t matter. So yeah, I let them fuck me. I let them use me. Because you made me believe I was already ruined.”
His hand slid from her jaw to her throat—not choking, just holding, feeling the wild thrum of her pulse. “So you let them treat you like a toy? You let them use your mouth, your cunt, your ass? You let them take everything from you—let them ruin you so there was nothing left for me?”
“Yes!” she screamed, the word tearing from her throat like it had been waiting all night. “I let them fuck me. I let them ruin me. Because you already made me feel ruined. You left me, Dean. You looked at me like I was nothing. So I let them treat me like I was nothing.”
Her voice cracked, fierce and guttural. “I begged them for it. I begged them to fill me. Because you made me believe I wasn’t worth anything else.”
Her thighs pressed together, reflexive, shame and memory mingling. She tried to say no, tried to deny it, but the memory was too sharp—Jake’s hands spreading her open, Ryan’s cock filling her mouth, the dizzy animal stretch of being used, filled, wanting it so badly she’d begged.
