Who The F*ck Is She?

+8 Points

Who The F*bck /bbIs /bSheb? /b

~Damon~

“Who is she?” she demanded, each word sharper than thest. “Tell me, Damon. Who the f**k are you

fb*****/bg?”

I didn’t answer.

I couldn’t.

Because my silence said more than a thousand confessions ever could.

“Oh my God,” she hissed through the phone. “You are. You fb*****/bg are. I can hear it in your breath. You’re panting. You’re hiding. Is she there now? Is that why you’re whispering like a goddamn criminal? Is that why you won’t say her name?”

I closed my eyes and leaned back against the bathroom wall, chest tight, jaw clenched so hard it hurt. Her voice drilled into my skull, each word slicing deeper than thest, but I didn’t flinch. I deserved it. I knew that.

I’d earned every bit of the storm I was about to walk into. But that didn’t mean I was ready to let her drag me

back into the mes she once lit in my life.

“Damon, fb*****/bg answer me,i” /ishe snapped, breath ragged now. “Who is she? What pathetic little b***h opened her legs for you while I was in fb*****/bg rehab? Is she one of the maids? Some desperate w***e from the club? What is it, huh? You couldn’t handle being alone anymore so you found some tight little cunt to squeeze the

silence out of your house?”

I exhaled slowly, pressing my thumb and forefinger to my temple like I could hold the headache in ce before it exploded.

“Don’t do this,” I said quietly, my voice deep, taut, almost trembling under the weight of my restraint.

Sheughed–shortb, /bcruel, full of bitter venom.

“Is that why you sent me away, Damon? So you could f**k someone else in our bed? So you could bring some cheap piece of ass into my house, walk her down my halls, let her wear your shirts and leave her panties on the floor I picked out?b” /b

I didn’t speak.

I couldn’t.

Because every word she said, as vile as it sounded, was wrapped in something far more dangerous than

jealousy.

It was truth.

bLyra /bhad worn my shirts.

Lyra had left herce panties on the rug at the edge of my bed.

Lyra had moaned my name against my pillow, had ridden my bc/bb**/bbk /bbin /bthe very bchair /bbwhere /bbCami /bbonce /bbused /bbto /bread poetry in the mornings.

bAnd /bbworse/b–infinitely bworse/bb–/bI hadn’t bjust /bblet /bbit /bbhappen/b.

O

Who The F*ck Is She?

I had wanted it.

I had begged for it in the silence of my own mind.

“Oh my God,” Cami whispered again, the realization breaking through like ss. “She’s there, isn’t she? She’s bf/bb*****/bg there right now. You f****d her before I called, didn’t you? That’s why you sound like that. bThat’s /bwhy you’re so f*****g quiet. What is she doing, Damon? Still bent over? Still dripping with you? Do you even know her name or did you just pick her up and throw her onto something I used to love?”

I’gritted my teeth and pushed away from the wall, pacing the length of the bathroom like a caged animal, bthe /b

weight of her voice digging into every inch of me.

“She’s not some w***e,” I said, my voice low, steady, butced with something I couldn’t hide anymore. Not

even from myself.

“Oh,” Cami replied sharply. “So she does have a name. That’s sweet. Do you whisper it while you f**k her?

Do you call her baby? Did you make her breakfast after you made here? Did you take off your ring for her,

or are you still wearing it while you thrust into someone half my fb*****/bg age?”

I stopped moving.

I stared at the floor.

And I let the guilt settle in fully.

Because she was right. About all of it.

Lyra was young.

Too young.

And I’d f****d her like a man possessed, like Lhad something to prove, like she was the answer to every goddamn thing I’d ever lost. I f****d her like she could erase thest ten years from my memory. Like her p***y could rewrite history. Like her moans could drown out the sound of Cami screaming in the night from

behind locked doors.

But this wasn’t just s*bx/b.

And that was the most dangerous part.

This wasn’t just relief or distraction or pleasure.

This was need.

This was obsession.

This was something I couldn’t name anymore without tasting her on my tongue.

“She’s in your bed, isn’t she?” Cami whispered now, her voice hollow. Empty. “She’s curled up in your sheets

like she belongs there. You let her touch the life you promised me.”

“Stop it,” I growled, finally breaking.

“No,” bshe /bsaid, her voice turning, sharp again. “You bdon’t /bbget /bto shut me down. You bdon’t /bbget /bbto /bbf/bb**/bbk /bba /bbw/bb***/bbe and /blie to my face like I don’t still know you. Who bis /bbshe/bb, /bDamon? What does she blook /bblike/bb? /bbDoes /bbshe /bbcall /bbyou /bDaddy? Do you pull her hair and make her cry and pretend bshe’s /bbnot /bbjust /bba /bbhole /bbyou’re /bbusing /bbto /bbforget /bbme/bb?/bb” /b

bThat /bbroke me.

111

Who The F*ck Is She?

That snapped something deep inside, something I’d been holding back since the moment I first saw Lyra standing in my hallway, barefoot, bratty, brilliant, and unaware of what she was walking into.

“She’s not a hole,” I said coldly. “She’s not a recement. And she’s not someone I’m going to forget. You don’t get to talk about her like that.”

Cami went silent.

Completely silent.

And then, with a voice so quiet it almost made my skin crawl, she whispered.

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

I didn’t answer.

I didn’t have to.

I said nothing.

Not because I didn’t have an answer.

But because I did.

And I didn’t know how to say it.

I didn’t know how to admit that somewhere between the first time I kissed Lyra’s trembling mouth and thest time I made her scream my name while her nails carved into my back–1 had slipped. I had fallen. I had let something in that I never intended to feel again. And it wasn’t just lust.

Cami must’ve heard the truth in my silence, because her breath hitched through the phone. Then her voice returned, low and bitter and cracking beneath the weight of betrayal.

“Wow,” she breathed, followed by a hollowugh that chilled me straight to the bone. “iYou /ireally are. You’ve fallen for her. My husband–the man who once told me he couldn’t live without me–is in love with a slut.”

I closed my eyes.

Her words sliced clean.

“I bet she looks at you with those innocent eyes like you’re some kind of f*****g hero,” she hissed, ino /ilonger pretending to be calm. “I bet she tells you she’s never felt like this before, that no one’s ever touched her like you do. I bet she makes you feel good, like you’re not some ibroken /iman with a past that reeks of rot and

failure.”

I gripped the phone tighter, the tendons in my hand flexing hard enough to cramp.

i“/iShe doesn’t know you, Damon,” Cami continued, voice rising now. “She doesn’t iknow /iwhat you’re capable of. She doesn’t know what I’ve seen. What I’ve survived. You think she’ll ilove /iyou when she finds out the truth? About me? About what you let me be? You think she’ll still crawl into your bed when she realizes you locked your wife away like a f*****g secret and reced her with a warm cunt and a pretty moan?”

“Cami! It’s enough! Don’t you f*****g me me for your addictions”

“No, listen to me!” she screamed suddenly. “You think you’ve found something new. iYou /ithink she’s igoing /ito save you. But she won’t. She’ll leave. She’ll wake up one day iand /irealize she’s lying next to a man who ruins everything he touches. And she’ll run.”

O

Who The F*ck Is She?

I said nothing. My throat was tight. My chest burned. Every word hit harder than thest.

Because deep down, I had already asked myself the same questions.

+8 Points 2

“She’ll hate you, Damon,” Cami went on, her voice trembling now, unhinged with desperation and fury.

“The second she sees the darkness in you, she’ll hate you. The second she sees what I saw, what I still dream about, she’ll look at you with fear. With disgust. And you’ll be alone again.”

Her breath shook against the receiver.

“You can’t escape who you are. Not with her. Not with anyone. And don’t kid yourself–whatever fantasy you’re chasing with her? It’s going to end. She’s going to leave you bleeding in your own bed.”

My head dropped forward. I pressed the heel of my hand into my eye socket, fighting the urge to scream.

“You know I’m right,” she whispered now, almost gently. “You iknow /iitb, /bDamon. You’re not in love. You’re just running. And one day, she’ll see you for what you really are.”

I didn’t know how long I stood there.

How long I let her words twist around my spine like thorns.

How long I let the guilt simmer beneath the heat of what I felt for Lyra.

But when I finally spoke, my voice was low. Measured. Clear.

“You don’t know anything about her.”

Camiughed again. A bitter, broken sound that made the walls feel like they were closing in.

“I don’t need to know heri,/i” she snapped. “I know you.”

“And guess what Damon? I miss your f*****g c**k. I wanna suck it so bad. It has been ages”

I went rigid.

Her voice dropped lower, sultry and sick, curling around the edges of my spine like smoke choking the oxygen

out of my lungs.

“So guess what,” she whispered. “I’ming back and I don’t f*****g care what you say”

My breath hitched. My grip on the phone tightened so hard I thought it might snap in half. I couldn’t sp could barely think.

I could already feel it..her madness, her obsession, that twisted part of her that didn’t understand boundaries, didn’t understand no, didn’t understand that I had moved on.

“I’ming back to that house,” she said, louder now. “Back to what’s mine. To our bed. To you. And when I get there, Damon..when I see that little slut you’ve been f*****g in my house, lying in my sheets, touching my

husband like she owns him..”

She paused.

I closed my eyes, already dreading what she would say next.

“I’m going to shove a pipe so far up her p***y she won’t even have time to scream. I’ll watch her bleed to death right in front of you, and I’ll smile while I do it. I’ll make sure she learns never to f**k with Cami Thornvale.”

Who The F*ck Is She?

Silence exploded in my ears.

I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. I didn’t even blink.

I just stood there.

Then..she hung up.

No goodbye. No pause. No hesitation.

Just silence.

And I felt it settle across my shoulders like a noose.

Oh f**k.

As I was trying to wrap my head around everything..my insane wife, my lie, the threat, the f*****g madness that had just crawled out of Cami’s voice like a demon freshly unchained..I heard it.

A soft knock.

Then her voice.

“Damon… is everything okay?”

I froze.

That voice.

That sweet, breathy, innocent voice.

Lyra.

Oh, my sweet kitten.

”

Royalty Writes

Thank you so much giys for the support and vote!!!

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