Chapter 65: Our Boyfriend

[Riley’s POV]

The rotted Friendly’s sign stands as a monument to man’s greed in the abandoned parking lot, casting an eerie shadow over my beat-up Corolla. I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, the rhythmic tapping echoing in the empty car.

“Well, this is sketchy as hell,” I muttered, eyeing the deserted strip mall. The crumbling façade of the restaurant looms before me, a haunting reminder of family dinners past.

I fish my phone out of my pocket, checking for the millionth time if I got anymore notifications.

My stomach growls, reminding me I skipped breakfast in my rush to get here. I pat my abs sympathetically. “Sorry, buddy. No Prince Pizza today.”

The silence of the lot presses in around me, broken only by the occasional whoosh of a car passing on the nearby highway. I try to ignore the prickle of unease crawling up my spine.

“For Jason. To see him again.” My heart flutters as thoughts of Jason flood my mind. God, I missed him so much. I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, replaying our last encounter in my head.

“My beautiful dominant daddy,” I whisper, a giddy smile spreading across my face. People might think he’s all ice on the outside, but I know better. Behind closed doors, he melts like butter in my hands.

I close my eyes, savoring the memory of his touch. “Such a softy,” I murmur. “My big, tough guy, Jason.”

A low rumble breaks through my daydream. My eyes snap open, heart leaping into my throat as a sleek black car slides into view. It parks beside me, engine purring ominously in the silence.

I swallow hard, my pulse racing. “Okay, Riley,” I mutter to myself. “Time to man up. Your Jason awaits.”

With trembling fingers, I unbuckle my seatbelt and push open the creaky door of my Corolla. The cold winter air hits me like a slap, sending a shiver down my spine. As I step out, the gravel crunches beneath my feet, the sound unnaturally loud in the eerie silence of the abandoned lot.

The window of the black car beside me slides down with a soft whir, revealing a woman I’ve never seen before. Her auburn hair is pulled back into a tight bun, and her green eyes scrutinize me with an intensity that makes me want to squirm. She’s wearing what looks like a maid’s uniform, which seems wildly out of place in this desolate setting.

“Did you leave your phone, wallet, and keys in your car as instructed?” she asks, her voice clipped and professional.

I nod, swallowing hard. “Y-yes,” I stammer, my voice sounding small and scared even to my own ears. “Everything’s in there.”

Her eyes narrow slightly. “Do you have anything else on your person? Anything at all?”

I pat my body frantically, feeling for any forgotten items. My hands roam over my pockets, my chest, and even my shoes. “Just the burner,” I confirm, pulling it out to show her.

She nods. “That’s fine. Get in the back.”

With shaking hands, I reach for the door handle. The car’s sleek black exterior gleams in the weak winter sunlight, looking more like a hearse than a luxury vehicle. As I pull the door open, the rich scent of leather wafts out, mingling with a faint trace of cigarettes.

My heart nearly stops when I see who’s waiting inside.

Erica sits there, her posture rigid and regal, like a queen on her throne. Her blonde hair cascades over her shoulders in perfect waves, catching the light filtering through the tinted windows. Those creepy blue eyes lock onto mine, sending a chill down my spine.

“Hello,” she says curtly, her voice as cold and sharp as an icicle.

I gulp, frozen in place for a moment before awkwardly clambering into the seat beside her. The leather creaks beneath me as I settle in, hyper-aware of every movement.

Erica holds out her hand, palm up. “The burner,” she demands, not even bothering to phrase it as a question.

With trembling fingers, I place the cheap phone in her waiting hand. Our fingers brush for the briefest moment, and I’m surprised by how warm her skin is, given the ice in her eyes.

Without breaking eye contact, Erica deftly pops open the back of the phone, extracting the SIM card with practiced ease. Then, in a move that makes me flinch, she snaps the phone in half with a sickening crack. The plastic splinters with terrifying ease in her strong hands, reminding me just how strong she really is.

The car starts moving, and the engine’s purr is barely audible in the luxurious interior. I sit awkwardly, pressed against the door, trying to put as much space between myself and Erica as possible. The tension in the air is so thick I could cut it with a knife.

Erica’s face suddenly transforms, an evil grin spreading across her features like a crack in porcelain. The change is so abrupt, so jarring, that I feel my heart skip a beat. Her scary blue eyes glitter with a dangerous curiosity as she leans in, her voice dripping with honey-coated venom.

“So, what’s the other Jason like?”

The question hangs in the air between us, heavy and loaded. I fidget in my seat, the leather squeaking beneath me. The car’s interior suddenly feels claustrophobic, the air thick and oppressive.

“I... um...” I stammer, my throat dry. “Are you sure you really want to know?”

“Yeah.” She replies coldly.

I force myself to meet her gaze, feeling like a mouse staring down a particularly sadistic cat. “You always seem so... possessive when it comes to your Jason. When I’m around, I mean. I’m not sure you really want to hear about mine.”

Erica throws her head back and laughs, the sound ricocheting off the car’s tinted windows. It’s a laugh that sends shivers down my spine, not the good kind, but the kind that makes you want to run and hide.

“No, no,” she purrs, her words laced with barely concealed malice. “I really do want to know.”

Her words have a bite to them, sharp enough to draw blood. I shrink back against the door, feeling the cold press of the window against my arm. Outside, the world rushes by in a blur of grey and brown, but inside this car, time seems to have slowed to a crawl.

I look at her nervously, my hands twisting in my lap. I can feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead, threatening to trickle down my face. Erica’s grin widens, her perfect white teeth gleaming like a predator’s.

“Tell me,” she commands, her voice dropping an octave. It’s not a request. It’s an order, one that brooks no argument.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. “He’s... he’s really cute,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. A small smile tugs at my lips despite the tension in the air. “He’s really cold to women at school, but I don’t know...”

I trail off, lost in memories. Erica’s eyes narrow, her gaze burning into me. “Go on,” she prompts, her voice deceptively soft.

“We got assigned a a group project together in September, and then we just... hit it off,” I continue, my words coming faster now. “He can be so, like, I don’t know, tough in his exterior, but when it’s just us two, he’s like a brooding softy.”

“Brooding?” Erica repeats, surprise coloring her tone. “Tsundere?” she mutters to herself so quietly I almost miss it.

“What?” I ask, confused.

“Nothing,” she snaps. “Keep going.”

“Uhhhhh,” I feel confused and unsure of what to say next.

I fidget in my seat, unsure how to continue. The leather creaks beneath me as I shift, my eyes darting around the car’s luxurious interior to avoid Erica’s piercing gaze. The silence stretches between us, taut as a bowstring.

Erica’s patience finally snaps. She lets out an exasperated sigh, her blue eyes flashing with annoyance. “Well? What’s he like during sex?” she demands bluntly.

The question hits me like a bucket of ice water. I feel heat rush to my face, my cheeks burning so intensely I’m sure I must be glowing like a stoplight. “I... uh... that’s...” I stammer, words failing me completely.

Erica’s expression shifts from irritation to confusion as she takes in my flustered state. Her brow furrows, and she cocks her head to the side, studying me like I’m some bizarre specimen under a microscope.

Suddenly, understanding dawns in her eyes. “Oh,” she says, a hint of amusement creeping into her voice. “You’re like a schoolboy from this world, aren’t you? Women over there don’t usually talk about sex, do they?”

“Yes, we do!” I protest defensively, my voice coming out higher-pitched than I intended. I cross my arms over my chest, trying to look more confident than I feel. But despite my bravado, I can’t shake the embarrassment coursing through me. My ears feel like they’re on fire, and I’m acutely aware of how small the car suddenly seems.

Erica leans in closer, her lips curving into a predatory smile that does not meet her eyes. “Come on,” she coaxes, her voice low and conspiratorial. “From one girl to another, what’s it like?”

I take a deep breath, feeling my face burn even hotter. “Well,” I begin hesitantly, “Jason’s... he’s really...” I pause, searching for the right words. “He’s really dominant when we’re intimate.”

I notice Erica wince at the mention of Jason’s name, but I press on, the words tumbling out now. “He’s really into holding me down, and he keeps asking to tie me up.” My voice drops to a whisper, my eyes fixed on my fidgeting hands. “I let him do it a couple of times, but it’s so embarrassing.” I pause, biting my lip. “But... I kinda liked it.”

The leather seat creaks as I shift uncomfortably, hyper-aware of Erica’s intense gaze. The car’s interior feels stifling, the air thick with tension. Outside, the world rushes by in a blur, but inside this car, time seems to crawl.

“Before I got here,” I continue, my voice barely audible, “he kept trying to see if he could... um... paddle my ass.” The words feel foreign on my tongue, and I stumble over them. “But I’m nervous it’ll hurt too much.”

“I know it’s embarrassing,” I admit, my voice cracking slightly. “But there’s something about the way he takes control that just... I don’t know. It makes me feel safe, I guess? Even when he’s being rough.”

I fall silent, my confession hanging in the air between us. The only sound is the soft purr of the engine and my own ragged breathing. I feel exposed and vulnerable, like I’ve just stripped naked in front of a stranger.

Erica stares at me, her blue eyes wide with a mixture of shock and revulsion. The silence in the car is deafening, broken only by the soft hum of the engine and my own shallow breathing. I can feel her gaze boring into me, dissecting every word I’ve just uttered.

“Disgusting,” she mutters under her breath, her lips curling into a sneer. The word hits me like a physical blow, and I shrink back against the leather seat, wishing I could disappear into its plush folds.

“Women truly are different in your world,” Erica says, her voice dripping with disdain. She shakes her head, blonde hair swaying with the motion.

I sink into myself, feeling smaller with each passing second. My shoulders hunch, and I wrap my arms around my midsection as if I could physically hold myself together. The car suddenly feels claustrophobic, the air thick and oppressive.

Erica’s posture straightens, her chin lifting proudly. “My Jason couldn’t be further from yours,” she declares, a smug smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “He’s the subbiest man known to womankind.”

I blink, caught off guard by her statement. “What do you mean?” I ask.

Erica’s eyes gleam with a mixture of pride and possessiveness. “My Jason,” she emphasizes the word ‘my’ as if staking a claim, “is always begging me to be his dommy mommy. He craves my control, my discipline.”

She leans in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You should see him when he’s on his knees, looking up at me with those big, pleading eyes. He’s so desperate for my approval, my touch.” A predatory grin spreads across her face. “And the look on his face when I nearly choke him out. Oh, it’s absolutely divine.”

I feel my cheeks burning, a mixture of embarrassment, curiosity, and a hint of jealousy. The image of Jason, any Jason begging to be choked out, it’s too much.

“He loves it when I tie him up,” Erica continues, seemingly oblivious to my discomfort. “Begs for it, really. And hickies? He can’t get enough. Sometimes, I think he misbehaves on purpose just so I can torture him all night.

I squirm in my seat, torn between fascination and mortification. The pride in Erica’s voice is palpable, and I feel a twinge of a strange mix of envy and inadequacy.

“I-I see,” I stammer.

We sit in silence for a long while after that. The only sound was the engine and the occasional crunch of gravel under the tires. I stare out the window, watching the scenery blur by, my mind reeling from Erica’s words. The stark contrast between her Jason and mine leaves me feeling dizzy, like I’m caught between two worlds that don’t quite fit together.

I sneak a glance at Erica from the corner of my eye. Her face is impassive now, all traces of that predatory grin gone. She stares straight ahead, her posture rigid and regal. I can’t help but wonder why she told me all that. Was it just to make me feel lesser? To assert her dominance over me, even in this?

A heavy sigh escapes my lips before I can stop it. Erica’s eyes flick towards me for a moment, then away again, as if I’m not worth her attention. The leather seat creaks as I shift uncomfortably, feeling small and insignificant in this luxurious car next to this imposing woman.

I close my eyes, trying to center myself. ‘Hang in there, Riley,’ I think to myself. ‘Erica’s still a good person, deep down. She’s going to send you home. This will all be over. soon’

But even as I try to reassure myself, doubt gnaws at the edges of my mind. The Erica I’ve seen so far is cold, calculating, and seemingly devoid of empathy. ‘Can someone like that truly be good?’