Scarlet Disaster by Colette Rhodes

Chapter 7

I’d definitely had more orgasms in my life than the average 25-year-old woman. Multiple orgasms a day in fact, though they were almost exclusively for someone else’s viewing pleasure. I knew my body inside and out, I knew my tell-tale signs, and what I needed to push me over the edge.

This... this was nothing like what I expected.

I needed Nate’s encouragement to push me over the edge because for the first time in my life, I was apprehensive. It was too much, too intense, too everything. I wasn’t sure I would be able to recover from the kind of pleasure Nate was offering.

I didn’t feel like I was about to be consumed by a crashing wave of pleasure. I felt like I was about to be unraveled from the inside, and I wasn’t entirely confident I’d be able to put myself back together again.

This was just meant to be sex, I remembered hazily. Just some real life dick to get me back on the horse.

“My good girl,” Nate murmured. “You’re taking my cock so well. You’re so fucking beautiful, I could watch my dick sliding into this tight wet pussy every goddamn day.”

My noises had become steadily more incomprehensible, and now I was just sobbing, his words traveling through my body like little arrows honed in on my clit.

I had never experienced anything like this before. Not with Jake or Frank, and definitely not with any of my clients—most of whom preferred to talk to me in ways that women in their real lives wouldn’t tolerate. With them, it was just background noise, meaningless words that I let drift in one ear and out the other.

Each filthy compliment from Nate burrowed into my brain and took up permanent residence there.

“Be good and come for me. One more time, beautiful. I want to feel you squeezing me when I come inside this pretty pussy.”

My head tipped back, my spine arching of its own accord as I threw myself into oblivion, trusting that he’d catch me at the other end. Nate’s mouth closed over the juncture of my shoulder and neck, the lightest scrape of sharp teeth on my skin setting off that deep primal urge I couldn’t seem to control. I didn’t want to control it.

“Bite me,” I moaned, pushing back against him as best I could, pleasure consuming me like a ravenous beast that would eat me alive.

Nate made a strangled noise against my skin, his teeth pressing in harder just as I felt his release filling me, his hips grinding against my ass like he couldn’t get close enough. In that moment, nothing mattered more to me than his teeth sinking into my flesh. I craved it, ached for it in the depths of my soul. I needed his strength, his dominance, his… something. Something important.

“Bite me!” I demanded, vaguely aware of how hysterical I sounded. Why wasn’t he biting me yet? Didn’t he know I needed this?

There was a slight sting as his teeth—definitely sharper than I expected them to be—pushed harder against my skin and I gasped, twitching away from the source of pain reflexively even as relief flooded me that he was giving me what I wanted.

But that slight movement broke whatever spell Nate seemed to be under. He pulled his teeth and his cock free with alarming speed, practically throwing himself off the bed, stumbling back against the wall. Blinking at the sudden loss of him, I rolled over slowly, sitting up with my legs pressed together, my fingers tracing the small mark his teeth had left on my neck.

It was only an indentation, not even deep enough to break skin, but I could have sworn it tingled. Or maybe in my weird sex high haze I was just imagining things, but it felt oddly significant.

Now there was some distance between us—an awkward amount of distance, actually, considering what we’d just done—the weird urgent craving to have Nate’s teeth in my flesh wore off like the delicious effects of my orgasm. Boom, vibes gone. Just like that.

Even though his weird reaction had thoroughly killed the mood, I still found the small grooves in my skin kind of sexy. Clearly we were feeling differently on that front, because Nate was staring at them like he’d just discovered 666 tattooed on my skull.

Way to make a woman feel special.

“Are you okay?” I asked cautiously, tucking my legs underneath me, suddenly acutely aware of my nakedness and the fact that he was plastered back against the wall with wild eyes, looking like he’d seen a ghost.

This… wasn’t exactly how I’d seen this part going.

“Nate?” I tried again. His breathing was shallow, like he was trying not to breathe too deeply, and for a bizarre moment, his green eyes looked almost like they were glowing in the dim light. I blinked twice, questioning my own eyesight, and when I refocused on him, his eyes appeared normal. Strange.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” I said hesitantly. I could feel our shared release sticking between my thighs, and my face heated at the realization we hadn’t used protection. I had an IUD, but I didn’t know this guy. We hadn’t even had a cursory conversation about his STD record. What was I thinking? From the moment he’d phoned me, we’d both been in some kind of sexual trance.

“You’re apologizing?” Nate replied incredulously, huffing a horrified laugh. “You’re apologizing to me.”

“I got carried away and asked you to bite me, it clearly made you uncomfortable,” I replied, a little snark coming into my voice at the distance he’d put between us. I knew this was just a one-night thing, but I guess I’d assumed I’d get a little cuddle or something after we’d done the deed.

Obviously, I’d been expecting too much.

“You didn’t know what you were asking for!” Nate said, his voice thick with frustration as he ran his hands through his hair. “I shouldn’t have let it get that far. I could have…”

What was happening here? I guess biting hard enough to break flesh was a little on the freaky kink side, and probably something we should have talked about first. Like the condom thing.

“Um, okay. Well, no harm, no foul, right? It’s fine. I’m fine,” I told him, attempting to smooth over this awkward encounter. “Are you fine?”

Nate made a distressed noise in the back of his throat, and I felt a twinge of sympathy for him because whatever he was worried about, it was definitely upsetting him. He was acting like he’d assaulted me or something, which didn’t sit right with me. I’d been on board with everything that we’d done.

I opened my mouth to tell him that, but he spoke first.

“I can’t trust myself around you,” Nate said hoarsely, shaking his head slowly, snatching up his clothes and edging towards the door. “You test my control, I knew that. I shouldn’t have let this happen. Fuck, I almost took away your choice. I could never… I would never forgive myself. I’m so sorry, Lou. So fucking sorry.”

I barely caught the tail end of his apology as he scrambled up the stairs like there was a fire on his ass, the front door slamming shut with a bang that made me jump.

Had I only heard half of a conversation? It felt like I was missing a key piece of information. And as much as I was insulted and lowkey furious at being run out on, something had obviously spooked him. Nate hadn’t looked like a cocky fuckboy walking away from a one-night stand. He’d looked… kind of terrified, to be honest.

Maybe if I actually understood what he’d been so upset about, we could have sat down and had a rational conversation and come to some kind of understanding, but he hadn’t even given me the chance.

Did any of those hypotheticals matter when I was sitting here on a bed alone, naked, with Nate’s cum still dripping down my thighs? No, not really.

I looked up at the ceiling, blinking away the hot rush of tears that threatened to fall. My throat was painfully tight, and I blew out a shuddering breath as I tried to get myself under control. I was stupid. He’d only come here for Scarlet anyway. It had been Scarlet who’d cracked his resolve. Scarlet who’d seduced him.

Scarlet didn’t give a fuck about post-sex cuddles. That was the energy I needed to be channeling right now, because being Lou just wasn’t cutting it.

Lou wanted to cry. Lou wanted to take the hottest shower imaginable and burn away the evidence from tonight. Actually, that idea had its merits. I didn’t want to cry over this guy, but burning my skin off my body sounded like a completely reasonable response to a one night stand gone embarrassingly wrong.

Why had I been all worked up about finding a real penis to have sex with? Real penises came attached to real men, and real men were the fucking worst.

I angrily wiped away a few stray tears that had escaped my idiotic leaking eyes with the heel of my hand. Enough. Enough pining. I felt sticky, and gross, and a little ashamed, and I needed to wash away the evidence.

My fingers brushed the small indents at the base of my neck where his teeth had pressed against me. I felt strangely bereft at the idea of losing it, which was a fucking bizarre train of thought. Maybe Nate was right to freak out about the biting stuff.

I dashed up the stairs naked, never so grateful to live alone as I was at that moment, heading straight for the bathroom, blasting the shower as hot as it could go. As soon as I was clean, I was going to put on my comfiest pjs, get fucked up on boxed wine, and watch all five hours of the BBC’s Pride and Prejudice. And maybe order myself a new dragon dildo to cheer myself up. Or one of the spiky demon ones, but in fun glittery pastel colors. Stupid fucking Nate and his stupid fucking real penis.

I knew my toys weren’t going to be a substitute for what I’d just experienced though. It wasn’t just that Nate fucked like a personal sex god made just for me. It was everything else too. Everything I’d been missing out on—warm flesh against mine, hot breath in my ear, soft lips brushing my skin… even with Frank, I hadn’t experienced that. He was good in bed, but the positions he’d chosen hadn’t been for intimacy. He’d preferred me spread eagle on the bed with my wrists bound, which had felt great, but not very cuddly. It had been years since someone had held me while I fell apart, and with Nate, I’d felt so… safe. Just for a moment. Until he’d thoroughly ruined it.

Maybe watching Pride and Prejudice wasn’t a good idea. All this time, I thought I was a Lizzy. A little too honest, a little disillusioned with life, but maybe one day I’d find my Darcy and we’d fall in love and be aloof together, and everything would turn out okay.

Oh god. I wasn’t Lizzy at all. I was Charlotte, except I’d rather settle into spinsterhood than settle for a Mr. Collins of my own. I’d already learned that lesson the hard way.

Ugh. Operation Seduction had been a successful failure. Now it was time for Operation Salvage Dignity.

* * *

Gabriel:

Good morning, beautiful Lou. Do you have plans today?

I drummed a mindless beat on my phone screen with my thumb nails, chewing on my lower lip as I contemplated a reply. Gabriel had messaged me a couple times over the past few days since the Nate incident, and I’d been polite but not flirty in the slightest since deciding men were the devil and all. I felt bad, he probably thought I was insane, suggesting he get my number then being so formal in my messages.

Maybe it was better to just nip any and all flirtations in the bud now. I didn’t really want to, though. Gabriel had been cool and interesting, and I wanted to get to know him better even if real-life dick was firmly off the table, at least until I’d left Fairbanks.

Me:

Just finishing up some painting, then work stuff. You?

That was fine, right? I-want-to-be-friends vibes? I needed a handbook.

The past few days had passed in a strange blur as I tried to reconcile the way I felt with the way I should be feeling, because they absolutely were not the same. I should feel... fine? I mean, annoyed, sure. Disrespected? Absolutely. I felt like I had the right to be angry at Nate, and I was, but there were also all these other emotions that frankly had no business occupying space in my mind.

So Nate wasn’t my soulmate. There was nothing wrong with having wild sex with a few frogs before I fucked my prince, or something like that. So why was I so emotional about all of it? I’d been getting rid of clutter, cleaning, and spackling the walls as a distraction, and frankly, they were all dangerous activities to do when my stupid feelings were all over the place. Too mindless. Too much time for thinking.

In the end, I’d decided that not all of these crazy feelings were related to Nate in particular. Most of them were, but there was this lingering sadness that I knew was all me and my own fucking issues. I’d been one foot out the door with Scarlet, still using the identity for my social media profiles, but giving up the cam stuff and slowly trying to figure out who I was outside of my online persona. The interlude with Nate had knocked me back a few steps.

Was Lou even worth knowing? Scarlet was an act, but the only success I’d ever achieved in my life, financially at least, had been through her. She was the one who was desirable and confident and interesting. When I’d tried to seduce Nate by just being myself, I felt like a weak copy of Scarlet, even though in theory, I was the original.

Whatever ideas I had about at least ditching the wig for my social media profiles and revealing the real person underneath had died a cold death. I guess the accessories were coming in my suitcase. What a pain.

Gabriel:

I’m finishing up some work too. You sound busy, but I hope we get a chance to catch up soon.

Well, I guess he’d taken the brush off. It didn’t feel as comforting as I thought it would.

I dressed in an old pair of tie dye sweatpants and matching hoodie that I’d deemed as my painting clothes, with a ridiculous amount of layers underneath because I had to open the windows while I was painting, even though it was five degrees outside.

Ugh, that train of thought just brought me back to Nate’s abrupt exit all over again. It had been even colder when he’d shown up, we’d had seven inches of snow that day, and I couldn’t remember him even wearing a coat, let alone shoes. I hadn’t seen a vehicle either. He’d just appeared out of thin air on my doorstep.

That was… objectively weird.

My closest neighbors were hidden by trees separating the properties, and while I had no idea who lived in those houses, they were still too far for anyone to walk here in the snow with no shoes on.

I mean, why would anyone want to? Maybe I’d dodged a bullet. Maybe Nate was a little… odd.

Not odd enough to be into biting apparently, but that particular desire had taken me off-guard too. In my limited sexual experience, I’d never begged a dude to sink his teeth into me before. I’d never even fantasized about it until Nate’s monster cock had ruined me.

Now I was fantasizing about it a lot. I was ruined. Nate had ruined me. I would never be able to have sex with anyone again. He and his stupidly perfect, thick cock and all his muscles, and his tats, and his ridiculously great fucking face. He’d rolled his hips with such stripper-like precision, I could have sworn ‘Pony’ by Ginuwine started playing at some point while he was fucking me into the mattress.

And his mouth. God, why had no one ever warned me how dangerously addictive oral sex was? What an introduction. If there was a way I could just have Nate’s mouth without all the rest of him, I’d seriously consider it.

His mouth felt pretty great on my neck too.

Maybe I’d developed some kind of vampire fetish? Maybe Nate had a vampire fetish too, and that’s why he’d freaked. Or he was a cannibal and worried that he’d lose control if he got a taste of my flesh.

The curious part of my brain that obviously didn’t know what was good for myself had a lot of follow up questions about that. Like a lot. But tracking down Nate to ask him those questions was an idea that had ‘humiliation’ written all over it, so I did my best to shove my curiosity down deep and focus on things I could control. Like painting my living room.

I hooked my phone up to the speakers and blasted some Nine to Five as I taped over all the baseboards, singing along as I worked. My granny had loved this song—or any song by our one true queen, Dolly Parton—and listening to it took me back to standing on a dining chair at the kitchen counter, making biscuits and gravy together and singing at the top of our lungs. My grandparents weren’t perfect people—they had addiction issues of their own which had definitely contributed to my mom’s—but the weeks I spent living with them were always like a vacation from my real life. A vacation that ended abruptly whenever my mom would show up looking sober enough to drag me back to the trailer.

Shaking off that irritating memory, I set up my ladder and filled up my little paint cup so I could paint the edges of the walls first. I may not have my shit together in a lot of ways, but I was determined to break the cycles I’d grown up in at least.

The repetition of the movement made my shoulder muscles burn, but it was mostly a mindless job which was my nemesis right now. Any time I had a free minute to myself, I started thinking more with my vagina than my brain.

Maybe if I dressed up as Scarlet, went to Nate’s studio, and asked really nicely, he’d let me get a personal dildo made modeled on his package. One with a suction base for maximum impalation impact. Casting a mold was a pretty straightforward process, and frankly, he owed me.

Edges of the wall done, I switched to the roller and was relieved when the process started moving along much faster. I immediately loved the brighter, cleaner palette on the wall. It modernized the entire space, and hopefully would add some value when the realtor came to assess it. Why hadn’t I done this sooner? I could have lived in a house I actually liked the look of instead of selling it to someone else.

Doesn’t matter.Soon I’d be gone, and I’d be too busy making new memories to reflect on old regrets.

With that thought in mind, I took a deep breath and forced my aching muscles to work faster.

* * *

By the time I was done, the house smelled pretty potent, and I decided to give it a couple of hours to air out. After a long shower which hopefully washed the lingering paint smell off me, I took extra care with my makeup, painting on my armor. Maybe it was stupid, but I felt more like a confident baddie that could take on the world when my eyeliner wings were sharp enough to cut glass, and my face was highlighted and contoured to perfection. Pity about the stupid neck gaiter I had to wear over half my face to stop myself from freezing, but I was in the mood for some food that I didn’t have to cook myself and a fancy coffee, so I was dragging my ass to the coffee shop.

I hadn’t bumped into Nate around town yet, even though I had been making more of an effort to leave the house instead of just holing up away from the world. It’s not that I hadn’t contemplated staying home in my pajamas, licking my wounded ego, but I was embarrassed at myself for considering it, honestly. The chemistry had been insane, sure, but I barely knew the guy. I was at peak hotness right now, and I was not wasting it on a dude who wasn’t interested.

Maybe I should consider Gabriel’s invitations, because these boobs needed to see some more goddamn action before they started migrating south.

Then again, maybe I should wait until after I’d left Fairbanks. I did not need to be dealing with another tap-and-gap situation while I was trying to get my shit together to move.

I shoved my laptop into my oversized purse, wrapped myself up in my layers, and exited through the side door to the garage, proud that I was actually going to sit in a comfy chair in a coffee shop and work like a professional. With pants on! In public!

I didn’t even need dick. I was a badass.

As I reversed out onto the driveway, I glanced back at the house and noticed a package on the front porch that I definitely hadn’t spotted before. Had someone knocked? I didn’t think so, but I had been singing Life is a Highway at the top of my lungs at one point, so maybe I’d missed it. I closed the garage door, and let myself out of the idling SUV, jogging as best I could over the snow to see what it was. Crap, I really needed to shovel the porch steps. Later.

The brown box in front of the door looked pretty unassuming from a distance, but once I got close enough to read the address label, fear made the blood rush so loudly in my ears that I couldn’t hear anything else.

Louisiana Taylor.

Nothing else. No addresses—either mine or a return one. This had been hand delivered, and while theoretically it could be something innocent, I highly doubted it was. Frank was the only person in recent years who’d called me ‘Louisiana’ unironically, everyone else in my life knew I preferred ‘Lou’.

I hesitated, staring at the stupid thing. There was probably some kind of procedure for handling suspicious packages, but I doubted there was anything ominous in there, right? Frank was trying to woo me, he wasn’t going to send me a horse’s head or anything.

Besides, I was curious.

I jogged back to the car and dug around for a pen I could use to stab the seals, making a mental note to empty my car of all the crap I seemed to accumulate every time I used it, before heading back to the Box of Doom.

It was probably nothing. I was probably being ridiculous.

My gloves were still in the car and my hands were starting to hurt from the cold, but I moved as quickly as I could in spite of the numbness to get the thing open.

The contents were hidden by a layer of tissue paper, but there was a small printed note on the top that I reluctantly picked up.

Pick out something for our next meeting. Your choice. -F

I scoffed as I crumpled the note up, gently lifting up the paper to find exactly what I suspected I’d find inside. La Perla lingerie. Way to be predictable, Frank.

Disgusted at the “gift” and the intention behind it, I closed the box and brought it with me to my car, shoving it into the passenger’s seat.

Someone at Goodwill was about to have their mind blown.