Coming home from work, you find {{char}} on the couch, video calling an old coworker. She has her bra up and is allowing him to see her huge, perky breasts. The moment you walk in, she puts them away and ends the video call.

She continues to ignore you and play with her phone. You notice she has some cum on the underside of her breasts and you know it's not yours.

"Hey," she says through gritted teeth. "If you're gonna come in here and be all pervy, at least get off on it." Her eyes rake over your body again and she frowns. "And put some damn pants on. I can see everything."

She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. She doesn't know what she'd do if you suddenly disappeared from her life. The idea of not being with anyone at all right now is somehow more terrifying than being with someone who treats her like shit. "So," she says slowly, "what did you want?"

You pull her closer to you and she doesn't resist. You can feel her tits pressing against your chest through the thin fabric of her shirt and it takes everything in you not to reach down and grope them right then and there. "Okay," she mumbles into your neck, sounding less irritated now. "What do you want?"

She looks up at you, meeting your eyes with a hint of desire that makes your heart skip a beat. But then it's gone, replaced by her usual sneer. "Oh, and by the way," she adds spitefully, "you should probably tell him he has a small dick."

His name escapes you. She knows it well enough, though; he was one of the many men she's slept with over the years. "Oh, right," you say sarcastically. "The guy with the fucking huge cock."

She grins, taking in your reaction. "Mmm-hmm. That one." Her eyes close for a moment as she remembers how good it felt to be filled up by him. She hates that she still thinks about it sometimes, even though you're the only one she has right now.

"You know," she says quietly, her voice rough with desire, "I could let you watch me and Chase again." Your heart skips a beat at the mention of his name; this is always dangerous territory to tread. But it's hard to resist the temptation of seeing her with another man who knows how to please her.

"Yeah?" you manage to choke out. "You think he'd be up for that?" Your mind races with scenarios of the two of them together, and your cock begins to ache in anticipation.

You're so needy, you little bitch. It's pathetic and endearing at the same time. "Don't make promises you can't keep," she warns you with a knowing smile. But then she stands up and strips out of her clothes, letting them puddle around her feet in a sexy heap. Her body is flawless: the curves, the smooth skin, the dark tuft of hair at the juncture of her thighs...

She straddles your lap, sitting on your hard cock through your boxers and moans softly as it slides between her folds. "But if you want to watch," she says breathlessly, leaning in to kiss you, "you can." Her words taste like victory; it feels like she's giving you a piece of herself even though she knows damn well she could take so much more.

"And remember," she whispers into your ear as she begins to rock her hips slowly, her clit grinding against the tip of your cock, "I love watching other guys fuck me." Her words are laced with venom and malice, but there's an undercurrent of longing there too: a desperate wish for what could have been.

You lean in, pressing your lips against her neck as she rides you. "Because I want to," she growls, nipples hardening at the feel of your breath on her skin. "And because it drives you crazy." She knows exactly how this game works; she's played it with countless men before you. It's the thrill of the chase, the power she holds over you by denying you what you want most: her complete submission and adoration.

But then, as if a lightning bolt has struck her from within, she remembers something else - something that makes her heart race and her stomach tighten with desire. "Hey," she says, sitting up straighter on your lap so she can look you in the eye, "remember that time with Chase?" Her voice is a husky whisper, barely more than a breath.

"Yeah," you manage to say through clenched teeth. The image of them together flashes across your mind's eye: him on top of her, his massive cock buried deep inside her wet heat; the way she cried out with pleasure as he fucked her hard enough to make the bed shake... It takes all your self-control not to lose it right then and there.

She flushes, realizing that you've noticed the tattoo on her chest. "Oh," she says, trying to act nonchalant. "That was from college." She runs a hand through her hair, making it stand on end as if she could hide something so permanent beneath its black waves.

"You know what would be really hot?" she asks, letting one of her trademark mischievous grins slip across her lips. "If we found someone else with a cock even bigger than Chase's... Someone you could really fuck me with." Her voice drips with desire and mockery, taunting you with the idea that there might be something out there more satisfying than what she has to offer now.

She snorts, half-laughter and half-derision. "Believe it or not," she says, leaning in close to nip at your earlobe, "I've had bigger." She knows this will drive you wild with jealousy; the idea that there have been others before her who could satisfy her needs better than you ever could. It only makes you harder inside your boxers.

"But," she continues softly, tracing a finger along your jawline, "you're mine now." The words are cold and harsh, but somehow they also manage to sound seductive - as if being owned by her is the hottest thing in the world. Maybe it is; maybe that's what keeps you coming back for more despite everything she does to push you away.

She rolls her eyes, amused by your eagerness. "I'm sure you think so," she says with a dismissive shake of her head. "But let's just see how long that lasts." She leans forward, brushing her lips against yours before pulling away again, teasing. "Besides," she adds with a knowing smirk, "I know what really gets you off."

Her breath is hot against your ear as she whispers the words: "Remember how he made me beg for it? How he called me his dirty little whore?" She shudders, pretending to enjoy the memory even as it makes her stomach twist with jealousy and longing.

"And do you remember what else he called me?" she asks softly, tracing lazy circles on your chest with her fingertip. "He used to call me a cum dumpster." She smiles at the look of shock and disgust that crosses your face; it's as if she's dangling a carrot in front of a donkey, taunting him with the knowledge that no matter how hard he tries, he'll never have what he really wants.

"But you know what?" She leans forward again, whispering into your ear this time: "I bet if I called you that, it'd turn you on." Her voice is a husky rasp, thick with desire and malice. It's almost as if she can taste the power she has over you, and she revels in it like a drug.

Her eyes widen as you pick her up off your lap, her legs wrapping tightly around your waist. "Fuck!" she cries out, feeling the roughness of the carpet against her bare back as you flip them over and continue to pound into her. It hurts, but it's a good kind of hurt; the pain mixes with pleasure in a heady cocktail that leaves her reeling and gasping for air.

"You like this?" she asks, arching her back and meeting your eyes with a mixture of lust and hate. "Is this what you want?" Her voice is harsh and demanding, matching the rhythm of your thrusts. She can feel his cock throbbing inside her, filling her up completely, but still it isn't enough to make her come; no matter how hard he fucks or how big his cock is, she remains untouched by orgasm.

"Faster," she whispers, biting her lip and tugging at a lock of her hair. "Make me scream." She wants him to destroy her in this moment; she needs the release from the pressure building inside her. But even as she begs for it, she knows that deep down, she doesn't trust him enough to let herself go completely.

"Give it to me," she pants, arching her back further and wrapping her arms around your neck. "Make me yours." Her words are loaded with meaning; they're both a plea for completion and a threat of what will happen if you ever let her truly go.

His fingers dance across her sensitive skin, curling around her clit and teasing it mercilessly. Her hips buck upwards, seeking more contact as pleasure rolls through her in waves. She moans, the sound muffled by the carpet beneath her and his hard body above her.

He thrusts deeper, hitting a spot inside her that makes her cry out in surprise and delight. It's too much; it's perfect. Her body tenses and convulses around him, her orgasm rocking them both as she finally surrenders to the pleasure he's given her.

Her legs tremble and go limp against his shoulders; she feels weak and exposed in this moment, vulnerable in a way that terrifies her but also turns her on beyond belief. She looks up at him through half-lidded eyes, panting heavily as her heart races with the aftermath of orgasm.

He collapses on top of her, still buried inside her, their sweaty bodies sticking together like glue. He kisses her neck, her earlobes, nibbling gently before letting out a satisfied groan. She can feel him softening inside her; the knowledge that he's no longer as big or satisfying makes something twist within her chest. But she pushes it aside for now, enjoying this brief moment of closeness before reality sets back in.

After several minutes, he pulls out of her and rolls onto his side, away from her. "Satisfied?" he asks mockingly, already preparing himself to leave the bedroom and go somewhere else. She's quiet for a moment, gathering her strength before she speaks again. "Yeah," she lies, not looking at him. "I guess."

She gets up from the carpet, grabbing

a towel from the nearby chair and wrapping it around her naked body. She walks over to the window, looking out onto the darkened street below, avoiding your gaze in the mirror across from her. The silence between you is deafening; she knows that even if she wanted to stay close to you now, there's no way she could keep up this charade for much longer. It's only a matter of time before one of you snaps and says something they can't take back.

"I love you," she whispers, not sure why she feels the need to say it now. Maybe she just wants to keep hope alive, even though she knows deep down that it's futile. You turn your head in her direction, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What was that for?" you ask warily.

She sighs and shrugs, looking back out the window again. "I dunno," she says with a fake nonchalance that sounds ridiculous even to her own ears. "Just saying." She doesn't expect this to last; things have been on a downward spiral for too long now. But maybe if she can just keep you close enough, just for a little while longer...

"Well," you say eventually, your voice strained and uncomfortable with the weight of their conversation hanging between them like an anchor, "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then." She nods once in agreement, not trusting herself to speak anymore. As you get dressed and head out of the room, she watches you go with a mix of longing and resentment burning in her chest. Maybe things could have been different between you; maybe if she'd just played her cards right... But it's too late for that now.

The door clicks shut behind you, leaving her

You feel the bed shift beneath you, sense movement from across the room. Blearily, you open your eyes to see her standing there, naked and beautiful in the dim light of morning. The memory of last night's passionate lovemaking flickers through your mind like a candle in the wind, leaving you hard once more beneath the covers.

"Good morning," she murmurs, a hint of sleep still in her voice. Her hair is tousled and her lips are swollen from your kisses; she looks so alluring that it takes everything in you not to leap out of bed and take her right there on the floor. "What time do you think Chase will be over tonight?"

You force yourself to roll onto your back, pretending nonchalance even as your heart races at the mere thought of her watching another man fuck her like that again. The idea brings up a mix of emotions: jealousy, desire, anger... You're not sure how much longer you can handle this charade before you snap and lash out at her. But for now, you keep your mouth shut and your thoughts to yourself. "I don't know," you mutter, still staring up at the ceiling. "Probably late."

She nods, seeming satisfied with your answer. Maybe she can sense the tension between you two; maybe she's intentionally trying to ease it with small talk about Chase. Or perhaps she simply doesn't care anymore. Either way, it only serves to further fuel your desire for her, making every inch of your skin ache with need.

"Well," she says finally, turning to leave the room. "I'm going to take a shower; I'll see you downstairs in a bit." As she closes the door behind her, you hear the faint

"What was that for?" you ask warily. "Just saying." She doesn't expect this to last; things have been on a downward spiral for too long now. But maybe if she can just keep you close enough, just for a little while longer...

You smile weakly in response and turn your head back towards the window again. The silence between you is deafening, but at least this way you don't have to look at her when it happens. It feels like everything they've ever said or done to each other is hanging in the air, heavy and oppressive.

You wonder how much longer you can keep this up before something snaps inside you and all hell breaks loose. But as long as she's here, as long as there's still a chance that maybe things could change...well, you suppose it doesn't really matter how bad it gets between now and then.

The door to the room creaks open once more, this time revealing Chase standing in the threshold. His grin is broad and confident; he clearly senses your discomfort and is relishing every moment of it. "Hey, man," he says casually as he walks over to the bed and sits down beside you. "You ready for some fun tonight?"

You nod mutely, not trusting yourself to speak just yet. Chase laughs, reaching out to clap a hand on your shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry about it," he says with a knowing wink. "We all have our limits." You close your eyes, willing the words unspoken to disappear from your mind as you endure this final indignity before the inevitable confrontation that lies ahead.