She Used Me for a Dare… Now I Own Her Mother

Alex leaned against the edge of her desk, close enough for her to catch the cedarwood scent of his cologne.

"How was your day?" she asked, her voice shifting to safer ground, as if testing whether he'd let her dodge the electric current crackling between them.

Alex chuckled, low and smooth, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Day was fine, Tisha. But we both know you're not dying to hear about my classes." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur, echoing their dance floor intimacy.

"You're thinking about last night. The way your hand lingered on me. The way you wanted more."

Her breath hitched, but she held her ground, tilting her head with a knowing smile. "Cocky, aren't you? That suit's gone straight to your head."

She stepped closer, her fingers brushing the edge of her desk, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. "You think you can just waltz in here and pick up where we left off? Prove it's worth my risk, Alex. This office isn't a ballroom, and I don't play games I can't win."

Her challenge hung in the air, her eyes daring him to cross the line. He met her gaze, his hand grazing her wrist, his touch light but electric.

Her pulse jumped under his fingers, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she turned her hand, catching his, her grip firm, asserting her control.

"One wrong move, and we're done," she murmured, her voice thick with desire but edged with steel. "Make it count."

That was all he needed. In one swift motion, Alex grabbed her waist, lifting her effortlessly into his arms.

She gasped, a mix of surprise and thrill, as he set her down on the edge of her desk, papers crinkling beneath her. His hands braced on either side of her, caging her in, and he captured her lips in an eager, hungry kiss.

Tisha responded with fierce energy, her hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer as she devoured him, her lips moving against his with reckless abandon.

Her body arching into him as the kiss deepened, a forbidden dance in the quiet of her office.

Her hands roamed, bold and unapologetic, tracing the hard lines of his chest before slipping lower, brushing his abs through his shirt.

She paused at his belt, her fingers grazing the unmistakable bulge in his pants. She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her eyes gleaming with mischief and heat. "Well, making sure if I was right yesterday," she breathed, her voice a hushed tease, her fingers giving a deliberate squeeze that sent a jolt through him. "You're making it hard to say no."

He grinned, his hand sliding to the small of her back, pulling her closer until her hips pressed against his. "Good," he growled, his lips brushing her ear. "I want you to want this as much as I do."

Her breath caught, but before she could respond, her desk phone buzzed sharply, the sound slicing through the haze of their desire.

They froze, her eyes darting to the door, her voice a hushed whisper. "That's probably Linda from admin. If she walks in…"

"Then we give her a show," Alex murmured, his voice daring, but he softened it with a smirk, his thumb brushing the curve of her waist. "Or you tell me to stop."

Tisha's eyes flashed with a mix of fear and defiance, her hand still lingering on his length, her boldness undeterred. "I should," she whispered, her voice raw, honest.

"But I'm not going to." She leaned in, stealing one more quick, searing kiss before pulling back, her breath uneven. "Not here, though. Too many risks."

He held her gaze, his hand still on her hip, reluctant to let go. "Then when?" he asked, his tone firm but warm, echoing the resolve he'd shown at the gala. "Because I'm not letting this slip away."

She slid off the desk, smoothing her blouse, but her eyes burned with a promise. "Soon," she said, her voice decisive, her boldness returning.

"My place, when the campus isn't crawling with nosy colleagues. I want you, Alex, but I want it without a damn audience." She stepped closer, her fingers brushing his chest one last time, a teasing challenge. "Don't make me regret this."

He nodded, his smile predatory but warm, respecting her boundaries while stoking the fire between them. "I'll be there, Tisha. Name the time, and I'm yours."

She gave him a final, lingering look, her sapphire blouse catching the fading sunlight as she stepped back, her composure returning but her flush betraying her.

"Get out before I lock that door and ruin us both," she teased, her voice regaining its confident edge.

Alex stepped toward the door, pausing to glance back, his eyes blazing with the same confidence he'd shown when he promised to stay ahead of the story. "See you soon, Dr. Wells."

As he left, the door clicking shut, Tisha leaned against her desk, her breath shaky, a smile playing on her lips.

The air still crackled with the thrill of the forbidden, and Alex walked away, his web of influence tightening, one daring, dangerous step at a time.

___

Sophia's Apartment

Sophia woke on the carpet, her cheek pressed against the rough weave, a dull ache spreading through her body. Sunlight slanted through the blinds, cutting sharp stripes across the floor and stinging her swollen eyes.

For a moment, she didn't move. She simply breathed, shallow and broken, listening to the silence pressing in from every corner of the room.

The lamp lay in shattered pieces beside her, jagged glass catching the afternoon light. She remembered throwing it, the sound splintering through the room before her knees gave out.

Her dress clung to her damp skin, wrinkled, heavy with sweat and tears. It smelled faintly of perfume soured by despair.

She rolled onto her back, the ceiling blurring. The echoes returned unbidden...Victoria's moans, Alex's satisfied laugh, her mother's voice laced with betrayal. The sound lived inside her skull now, impossible to scrub out.

Her phone buzzed weakly beside her. The cracked screen lit up, showing unanswered calls from the night before. She stared at them until her chest tightened. Not Mom. Not Marcus. Not even the friends who loved to orbit her when she was shining. Nobody.

Her throat burned as she whispered into the empty room, "Nobody cares." Saying it aloud made it real, and the weight of it settled heavy in her chest.

Slowly, she pushed herself upright, her legs trembling. One heel had snapped clean off her shoe in the chaos. She kicked it aside and dragged herself toward the bathroom.

The mirror caught her, unforgiving. Her face was a wreck... black mascara smeared in jagged streaks, hair knotted into a wild mess, eyes ringed with humiliation and sleeplessness. She almost didn't recognize the woman staring back.

"I'm a Blackwood," she muttered hoarsely, clinging to the words like a rope. "I'm not this."

Her fingers trembled as she pulled at the zipper of her dress, peeling it off like dead skin.

She stepped under the shower and turned the water hot, so hot it seared her raw. She welcomed the pain, leaning her forehead against the tiles as the scalding streams washed over her.

She scrubbed herself hard... skin, hair, everything... until her body stung, as if she could scrape away the night itself. But no matter how raw she rubbed, Victoria's voice lingered, Alex's grin burned in memory, her own shame clung like smoke.

When the water finally cooled, she shut it off. The silence returned, softer this time. She wrapped herself in a towel and sat on the edge of her bed, droplets rolling down her arms.

She felt stripped bare... not just of clothes, but of pretense. For the first time since it all crumbled, her mind began to clear.

A thought settled, slow and cold: they think she's broken. Let them. She'd use it.

Sophia lifted her chin to the mirror. Her reflection was fragile, yes, but there was something hard behind her eyes now.

She dressed with care... a sleek black dress that hugged her form, new heels that clicked with confidence.

Every choice was deliberate, a layer of armor stitched over wounds. By the time she painted on a faint smile, her reflection no longer looked like the wreck on the bathroom floor. It looked like someone sharp, dangerous, deliberate.

Victoria. Alex. Marcus. Each name flared in her mind, each one a wound that would bleed differently. They would all pay. One by one.

She grabbed her keys. The Blackwood mansion awaited.

___

Author's Note:

Sophia has stepped out of her despair and into something sharper... colder. The question is… what kind of transformation did we just witness?

Is this true strength born from pain, or the beginning of her descent down a darker path? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments!

If you're enjoying Sophia's journey, don't forget to drop a power stone, leave a gift, or share your support... it really helps keep the story going and motivates me to write even faster! ❤️🔥