Page 103 of Caged
Embarrassment spears through my body like white hot lightning. My instinct is to look, to see if he’s bluffing, but I remember my compromised position and decide I’d rather not slit my own throat by leaning forward.
He releases my breast and crawls on top of me like a bear. “I need you to know something,” he growls against my ear. “Last night you called me a cheating piece of shit. Not once did I cheat on you, so if you’re going to come into my house, and fondle my dick, then…”
“Then why is there a video?” I finish for him, although I know this was not what he intended to say.
Sincere confusion flashes across his face. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“There is a video. I have it on my phone.”
Dumbfounded, he sits back on his heels, and I exhale a sigh of relief when I no longer feel the blade against my skin.
“You’re lying,” he challenges.
“I’m not,” I assure him.
“Show me.”
I reach for my nightstand, inadvertently bending my knees so the soles of my feet can press into the mattress, giving me the boost I need to grab my phone. I lean back against my pillow, unlocking the device. I haven’t looked at this video in months. There was a time when I would watch it every day, multiple times a day, torturing myself with the proof of his infidelity.
It takes a few minutes to scroll through two years of photo and video history, an undertaking made even more arduous by the soothing strokes of Jace’s fingers on my upper thigh. I can hardly focus. I’m not even sure he’s aware of his own hand movements, because at one point, touching me like this would have been second nature to him. Jace Carver is on my bed, kneeling between my spread open legs with a front-row view of the tiny, triangular scrap of fabric separating my pussy from open air, and even though he is fully clothed, the tent in his pants is uncomfortably obvious.
“Here,” I say, handing him my phone as I try to avoid looking at his groin. I pray the tent has deflated. Jesus, is watching this video going to make him even more aroused? The thought makes me ill. I can’t look. I can’t fucking look, or I’m going to need a trashcan.
He presses play on the video, and suddenly, I’m forced to relive one of the worst moments of my life. The catcall hollers ofthe Sigma fraternity members standing around him as a naked blonde pushes his legs apart. The euphoric look of pleasure on Jace’s face when she unzips his pants and lowers her mouth onto his erect dick. The backward tilt of his neck as her head bobs. The way his hands guide her hips as she climbs on top of him, straddling his lap, and fucks him.
Jace hits pause, but I know the video keeps going. I’ve watched her bounce up and down on his dick until I’ve become nauseated. On several occasions, I’ve actually thrown up.
“But I’m the slut, right?” I ask through gritted teeth. “I’m the whore.”
“Where did you get this?” he demands. His tense face is severe, almost stoic, as his eyes search mine.
“Why does it matter?” I push back, hoisting myself onto my elbows. “It doesn’t change what you did.”
“Who sent this to you?” His expression remains infuriatingly unreadable as he taps the screen.
“What are you doing?” I snip, growing more agitated by the second by his lack of reaction to this massive reveal.
“Texting it to myself,” he explains. “Who fucking sent it?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t recognize the phone number, and when I responded, my text didn’t go through.”
The muscles in his jaw tick with tension.
“When?”
“The day before I broke up with you.”
He freezes, and his fury-filled eyes flick to mine.
“Why… didn’t you fucking say anything?” he asks. His words are slow and deliberate, like an animal about to snap. I scoff at his unbelievable audacity.
“Why didn’t Isay anything?”
He glares at me, expectant, and the rope I’ve wound tight around my emotions unfurls at last.
“That video was from your Sigma initiation. A week before you fucked that woman, you were in my childhood bed, in my family’s home over winter break, fucking me with tears in your eyes because, and I quote, you ‘loved me so much that it hurt,’” I snarl, annoyed that I ever let myself fall for such a cliché line.
“The day after this video was taken, you crawled into my bed and fucked me without protection, like I let you do for the rest of the goddamned semester because Itrusted you. You never would have told me. You were content to let me stay oblivious, knowing the entire time that I had been faithful and you had not.”
