CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Emma POV
The warehouse breathes.
That is the first thing I notice when I step inside.
Not the way lungs breathe, not with air and rhythm, but the way something alive exhales heat and sound and movement all at once. Music rolls through the space in slow, violent waves, the bass vibrating up through the soles of my shoes and into my bones. The ceiling disappears into darkness. Light spills in fractured colors, never settling long enough to give anything a clear edge.
Bodies move everywhere.
Some together. Some alone. Some pressed so close there is no clean line where one ends and another begins. Skin gleams beneath the lights. Sweat catches and reflects. Laughter breaks and reforms, sharp and unsteady, dissolving into the music.
Someone presses a stamp against my wrist without looking at my face.
The mark blooms dark against my skin.
I step forward.
The air is thick. Perfume layered over sweat layered over something faintly metallic, like heat against steel. My skin prickles immediately, oversensitive, alert.
Good.
This is what I need.
I came here directly from the office, the CEO's kiss and touch had left me empty and I can't stop I need to fill it immediately.
I looked around the sex club and smiled. I had searched online for this place and it lived up to my expectations.
A man brushes past me, fingers dragging deliberately along my arm. A woman's mouth grazes my ear as she leans in to say something I don't catch. A drink appears in my hand. Then another.
I don't slow down.
I let myself be guided toward a low-lit corner where bodies are already tangled, limbs overlapping, breath heavy and damp. Hands find my waist. My shoulders. My hair.
I close my eyes.
The first kiss is sloppy, eager. A mouth too warm, breath tasting faintly of alcohol. I kiss back hard, chasing the familiar spark, the tightening low in my body that used to come so easily.
It starts as he slowly removed the scanty wears I had on and slowly move his hand to my clitoris, rubbing slowly.
Heat spreads from my core to every part of my body, and I grounded into him asking for more. My muscles tense. My breath shortens as my grounding intensifies.
Yes, I screamed in my head, letting myself go, and my desire shot higher.
I deepen the kiss and massages his dick harder. He groans and shoved me on all fours and dragged me closer as he knelt behind me. I let myself be pulled closer, let hands roam, let the press of bodies crowd out thought.
The sensation climbs, as he shoved his large nine inches dick inside me without protection. I wanted to object in my brain, but I couldn't.
He began to move at a pace that rock my entire core. Sensation build, and I rose to the edge. He picked up his pace and rock me higher just as I was about to tint over the edge.
It stops.
Not gently.
Abruptly. Like slamming into a wall that isn't there.
I gasp, eyes flying open. My body remains coiled, waiting for release that never comes. The heat stalls, flickers, then drains away entirely, leaving me hollow and shaking as he banged hard one more time and erupted inside of me.
I pull back sharply.
"What was that," I say, my breath unsteady.
His hands pause immediately, standing up as another man took over. I lay numb.
"You okay?" the next man asks. His voice is concerned, already going distant.
I swallow. My throat feels tight. "Yeah. Just—give me a second."
I said, trying to gather my clothes and cover my body, but saw no clothes around me. Someone must have taken them, heart pounding as I stood to my feet slowly.
All of a sudden, the noise becomes too loud, the lights too harsh. My skin feels wrong, over-touched and under-satisfied all at once.
It's fine, I tell myself. Just nerves. Try again.
I walked into the VIP section and sat down. I ordered strong drinks and drank slowly.
Thirty minutes later, a man walked up to me and sat next to me.
"Sitting all alone, don't you fancy anyone's touch?" he asked, moving closer.
"I do," I said slowly. "I need a man that can do me well," I said suggestively.
He eyed the couch next to me, and since I am still nude, I lay back slowly.
Soft fabric beneath my back coaches me softly. With dimmer light, fewer people, intentional and focused, I let him take me as he likes.
Shortly, I noticed a woman straddles the edge of the couch, her fingers trailing deliberately along my arms, down my sides.
Then a man kneels in front of me, eyes dark, attention complete, his mouth took mine into a competition of tongue tighing.
The woman got bolder and took one of my nipples into her mouth and began to suck. I felt someone's lips on my pussy. My eyes roll back as the sensation of being eaten out knock me off.
I brace myself mentally for the fireworks that follow being eaten out, nipples and lips sucked to tender.
I let my head fall back, breath shuddering as sensation builds again. My body responds automatically, arching, muscles tightening in anticipation.
The pleasure rises higher this time.
Higher.
So close I can taste it.
And then—
It drops out from under me completely.
I choke on a sound halfway between a gasp and a sob. My body jerks, confused, betrayed. The tension snaps without release, leaving behind a sharp, aching absence.
"What—" I start, then stop.
The woman freezes, hands still. "Hey. Are you okay?"
I shake my head, panic clawing up my chest. "I was— I almost—"
My voice breaks.
The man shifts back, concern replacing desire. "We can stop. We can slow down."
Slow down.
The words feel like an insult.
"No," I snap. "I don't want to stop."
My hands tremble as I push myself upright. I fumble for my clothes, fingers clumsy, uncooperative.
"I just need— air."
No one stops me this time. I walked to the door, and someone handed my clothes to me and showed me where I can get dressed. I did quickly and leave barefoot, shoes clutched in my hands, my chest burning as cold night air slams into my lungs.
On Saturday, I walked into a private apartment high above the city, all glass and steel and curated calm. Candles flicker along the edges of the room, light soft and deliberate. Music hums low, almost soothing.
I have not slept well since I kissed and slept with the CEO, I know it only been a day but I had never struggled to sleep at night before and I had not rested since. All I can think about is sex and my release.
This place is controlled, I tell myself.
This will work. I should get my release tonight.
The couple greets me with warm smiles and gentle touches. Everything is careful. Considerate. They guide me toward the bedroom like it's a kindness, not a hunger.
The bed is clean.
Too clean.
Our hands explore slowly. I started with the lady as we finger fuck ourselves and kissed deeply. Her man, after watching for a while joined in. Mouths linger. Attention is focused, almost reverent.
He took the lady from behind and brought her to orgasm in no time, while she licked and sucked my pussy.
The tension that my body build up was so great, and soon he took over.
He was bigger and longer than any man I had ever had. My pussy was already sore, but I took him in, and he rode me for a long time.
The familiar build returns. My muscles tense. My breath comes shallow and fast. This time I grip the sheets, grounding myself, determined not to lose it.
The pleasure rises.
Hovers.
And then collapses inward.
Not fading.
Vanishing after a long and hard ride.
I gasp, the sound tearing out of me in pure confusion. My body jerks, nerves firing uselessly, searching for something that isn't there.
the man continues to bang harder till I felt something tearing inside of me, and then he erupted inside his condom.
"I— I can't—" I stammer.
The woman's expression shifts instantly.
"Hey. It's okay. You don't have to—"
I pull away, shaking my head violently. "No. Something's wrong." the man stood up and sat on the couch.
My chest tightens, like the air itself has thickened. Tears sting unexpectedly, humiliating and hot.
"I can't feel it," I whisper. "I should be able to feel it."
The man reaches for my arm, moving closer. "You might just be overwhelmed."
I jerk away from his touch. "No."
I scramble off the bed, grabbing my clothes with shaking hands. Fabric slips through my fingers. My heart hammers too hard, too fast.
"I'm sorry," I say, though I'm not sure why. "I have to go."
They don't argue.
I quickly got dressed.
I leave with the echo of their concern clinging to me like something sticky and unwanted, and each step laboured due to the pain in my lower abdomen.
When I got to the entrance, I almost collapsed from the pain as I felt something thick and wet trailing down my legs.
I looked and saw it was blood.
The last man dick must have done some nasty job to my pussy and the entrance of my womb.
I managed to walk to a dark corner, opened my bag, and brought out a handkerchief, which I clean my legs with and another to stop the blood from being visible.
When I felt clean, I grabbed my tummy, walked back slowly to the entrance, and managed to stop a cab.
I gave the cab man my address, settled in the cab, and closed my eyes.
Surprisingly, the next day I woke up fine. The bleeding had stopped, and my pussy seems fine, but the hunger to get satisfied did not deem.
So at seven, I gave up hope of using my toys or fighting the hunger and go out fishing.
The space I enter is darker. Louder. Fewer rules. The music is harsher, faster. Bodies move with purpose, not patience. Desire here is blunt, unfiltered.
I step into it willingly.
Hands claim me immediately. Someone's mouth finds my neck, teeth grazing just enough to sting. Another body presses close behind me, heat undeniable.
Good.
I give myself over completely.
Time loses shape.
He dragged me up, making me stand against the walk, he lift one of my legs up and penetrated me in this position.
My skin is over-stimulated, nerves screaming, breath coming in ragged bursts. I press myself into the wall, surrendering to the chaos, desperate to force something to break through.
This time the pleasure rises higher than it has since—
My entire body tightens, poised on the edge—
And then the void opens fully. it felt like something dark opens and swallowed me deeply.
This time not just absence but if felt totally wrong like I have been forbidden to get satisfaction.
I cry out, the sound sharp and broken, and shove the bodies away from me.
"Stop," I say, louder. "Stop."
They freeze, but not before he jacked hard and finished off inside of me.
I slide down the wall, knees hitting the floor, arms wrapping around myself like I can physically hold something in.
"I can't feel," I whisper, my voice shaking violently. "I can't finish. I can't— I can't—"
Someone crouches in front of me. "Hey. You're safe."
"I'm not," I sob. "Something's missing. Something's gone."
They don't know what to do with that.
No one does.
I leave again.
Alone.
By Monday morning, I sit in my apartment staring at the wall.
My body aches. My skin is raw, oversensitive and numb at the same time. Every nerve feels exposed, unfinished.
My phone buzzes with messages I don't open.
The city wakes outside my window.
I stay still.
And the emptiness stays with me.