Claimed by Gaze

...Claimed by Gaze...

The door clicked shut behind her with a sound far too soft to match the way she was breathing.

Evelyn leaned against it, eyes closed, heart thundering. She expected it to stop now. Now that she was inside. Now that the air was still and there were no eyes watching.

But it didn’t.

Her pulse wouldn’t slow. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Her body was running on a language she didn’t speak.

She could still feel the way he stood — just far enough not to touch her, just close enough to own her.

She kicked her shoes off with more force than necessary, like that would unchain something. It didn’t. Her socks were damp with sweat.

She walked to the sink and turned on the tap, splashing cold water onto her face. Her skin steamed against it.

It was supposed to shock her back to normal.

But it only made her remember how hot her skin had been while he whispered in her ear. How she’d clenched. How she’d throbbed.

Her breath hitched again. She braced both palms on the counter and stared into the mirror.

She looked... ruined.

Eyes glassy. Lips parted. A blush still blooming high on her cheeks like she’d been kissed there — over and over — and left to explain it.

> “Your body lies worse than your mouth does.”

She squeezed her eyes shut.

But it was still there. The memory.

> “You’re more wet than afraid.”

She let out a sound — not a sob, not quite. Just something tight and wrong. A protest with no shape.

Her body wouldn’t stop responding. It felt like it didn’t belong to her anymore.

Her legs were weak, and the way her panties clung between her thighs made her feel both ashamed and horribly seen.

She needed to change. That was all.

She peeled off her top with trembling fingers, pulled the fabric over her head, breathing through her nose. It was fine. She was fine. She would put on her long shirt. Get into bed. Forget his voice.

Forget the way he’d smelled.

Forget the way she’d wanted him to touch her.

> You came to me.

She turned to the bed.

And then she saw it.

The black envelope.

It lay on her pillow like it belonged there. Like it had always been waiting.

Her breath left her in one slow exhale.

It wasn’t sealed. Of course it wasn’t. He didn’t need to hide anything anymore.

Her body moved before she decided to. She sat slowly, her fingers hovering over the card. Not because she was afraid.

But because she already knew whatever was inside would change something.

She picked it up.

Same card. Same red lettering. Same weight.

But this time, only two words.

GOOD GIRL.

She blinked. And then again. Her chest constricted.

Her throat tightened around nothing.

The world tilted.

It shouldn’t have meant anything. It was just a phrase. A taunt. A sick joke—

But it hit her. Hard.

Right between her legs.

She doubled over, breath catching like she’d been punched. Her thighs squeezed instinctively. Her whole body flinched.

Because he knew.

He knew what her body had done the moment she walked away.

He knew she’d gotten wet. He knew she was ashamed.

And he didn’t mock her.

He rewarded her.

And the worst part — the sickest, most humiliating truth — was that something inside her ached for more of it.

Her hand gripped the card tight enough to bend it.

A flash of his voice returned.

> “When you come back — because you will — I’ll take something else.”

She wanted to scream. Or cry. Or throw the envelope out the window and pretend none of this had happened.

But instead—

She slipped the card beneath her pillow.

As if it was already meant to be there.

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