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The air in their small apartment still vibrated from the mall, a day later. Jake sat on the edge of the couch, staring at the blank TV screen, the images from the security office - Lily, cuffed, Barry's leering face - playing on a loop in his head. He felt hollowed out, yet a shameful thrum of excitement persisted deep in his gut.

Lily walked in from the bedroom, wearing one of his old t-shirts, the hem barely skimming the tops of her long, toned thighs. Her dark hair was tousled, and she moved with a languid grace, a cat stretching after a satisfying meal. She didn't say anything, just came over and perched on the coffee table in front of him, her knees almost touching his. Her green eyes, usually bright and mischievous, held a new, knowing depth.

"You've been quiet," she said, her voice soft.

Jake just grunted, not meeting her gaze.

Lily reached out, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "Still thinking about it?"

He finally looked at her. "What do you think, Lily?"

A small smile played on her lips. She leaned closer, her scent - warm skin and something faintly floral - filling his senses. "I think," she whispered, her hand sliding down his chest, then lower, her fingers brushing the hardening length beneath his jeans, "we both got what we wanted."

Her touch was electric, a direct line to the confused arousal churning inside him. He grabbed her then, a rough, desperate sound tearing from his throat as he pulled her onto his lap, his mouth finding hers. The kiss was savage, not tender, a collision of unspoken needs and shared darkness.

He fumbled with the clasp of her bra through the t-shirt, his hands hungry for her. Lily arched into him, her small, perfectly perky breasts pressing against his chest as he finally freed them. The delicate, rosy peaks of her breasts were already taut against her pale skin. He tore the t-shirt up and over her head, his gaze devouring her. Her dancer's body was a study in lean curves - the supple waist, the slight flare of her hips, those long, athletic legs now wrapped around him.

"Jake..." she breathed, her head thrown back as his mouth found one firm peak, sucking hard.

He pushed her back against the arm of the couch, his jeans already undone, his erection thick and straining. He didn't bother with foreplay, just positioned himself at her entrance, her heat already dampening her. Lily's eyes were wide, watching him, a flicker of something wild in their green depths.

"Tell me," he rasped, pushing into her with a single, deep thrust.

Lily cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Oh, God, Jake... yes..."

He moved inside her, hard and fast, the friction building, the raw, animalistic energy between them escalating. The couch creaked rhythmically beneath them.

As he pounded into her, Lily's voice, tight with pleasure, cut through the haze. "Jakey... remember... that community hall? When I said I just... told Barry off?"

He grunted, his rhythm faltering for a second. He remembered the lie.

"He... he made me suck him, Jake," she gasped out, her hips bucking to meet his thrusts. "Right there. He grabbed my hair... so hard... pushed my face down." Her eyes squeezed shut. "I could smell him... his sweat... He stank. And then he was just... in my mouth. So thick... I thought I'd choke. He kept saying... 'That's it, little slut... take it all for Daddy Barry.'"

Jake's cock pulsed inside her, the image her words painted - Lily, on

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