POV Bianca
Lately, everything has felt out of place. Strange. Misaligned.
And, to my own irritation, a large part of it revolves around him: Luke.
Over the past week, his attitude toward me has changed in a way that deeply bothers me. There has always been something about him that irritated me—that distant, almost apathetic posture, as if the world around him didn't matter at all. Luke was never the type to be easily impressed, never cared about pleasing anyone, never made any effort to draw attention. He always lived isolated, closed off in his own universe.
A complete loser.
And yet, until recently, he was predictable. After our parents' death, nothing about him had changed. He remained indifferent, silent, emotionally inaccessible. Until a week ago.
Now, everything is different.
He started answering me. Talking back. Showing irritation. He even began to draw my attention directly—and that throws me completely off balance. Luke had never done that before. Never reacted to my provocations, my sharp remarks, my attempts to get under his skin.
Someone changed him.
I don't know who the woman he got involved with was, but it had to be her.
And that irritates me in a way I don't like to admit.
Not because he managed to get someone—honestly, that alone already feels like a small miracle. What bothers me is something else. It's the fact that he has someone… while I don't.
Over the past few months, I haven't managed to get involved with anyone who truly pleased me. And that is absurdly frustrating. I'm beautiful, popular, I have the dream job of thousands of women. I'm surrounded by admirers. Men who desire me are not lacking—what's lacking is quality.
Most of them are pathetic.
They lack attitude. They lack presence. They lack masculinity. Many even seem interesting at first, and I give them a chance. But all it takes is a longer conversation to realize they're not what I'm looking for. The interest disappears as quickly as it appears.
Like my last date.
The idiot thought it would be acceptable to suggest that I take a taxi to the meeting spot.
Me? By taxi?
I was so irritated that I didn't even leave the house.
And that, ironically, was one of the least bad dates. The others were worse. Much worse. The few who minimally met what I was looking for managed to disappoint in bed in an almost embarrassing way. Either they finished too quickly, or they simply came without even caring whether I had reached climax.
Frustrating.
In every sense.
Especially sexually.
I can't remember the last time I felt truly satisfied. Complete. That sense of fulfillment that only a good fuck leaves behind. Everything felt incomplete, rushed, empty.
And to make things worse, I still had to deal with Luke's recent provocations.
He mocked me when my last date failed. He made no effort to hide the sarcasm. And as if that weren't enough, he even threw it in my face that he had slept with someone.
Anger was the first thing I felt.
But it wasn't the only thing.
There was envy too.
The memory of the bulge in his pants insisted on surfacing in my mind, against my will. That only irritated me more.
To comfort myself, I started judging him internally. It was an automatic mechanism. Luke was still a loser. He was probably involved with some ugly, boring woman, someone pitiful.
That thought calmed me down.
Or at least until it was completely crushed.
The intercom rang. Luke answered. Shortly after, the doorbell rang, and then she walked in.
A very beautiful woman.
Too beautiful to fit the image I had created.
I was surprised. I never expected Luke to be capable of getting involved with someone like that. Curiosity—and a bit of malice—got the better of me. I asked if she was the woman he had been seeing recently.
From the way she behaved, it was clear that it was recent. Intimacy still forming. That meant something dangerous: maybe Luke was seeing more than one woman at the same time.
It was the perfect opportunity to plant a misunderstanding. To tarnish his image in front of her.
But everything backfired.
Luke dodged the question with irritating precision. He didn't leave any opening. He blocked any dubious interpretation before I could even insist. The answer was clean, direct, impossible to twist.
I was frustrated.
And without realizing it, I burned his back with my stare as he walked away. The feeling of having lost to him—even if it wasn't a competition—started hammering at my head again. He was getting involved with a beautiful woman. And worse, he had another woman somewhere.
That irritated me deeply.
Not because I liked him. That wasn't it.
But because he had people around him… and I didn't.
Time passed, and I felt the urge to use the bathroom. The door was unlocked, the shower off. There was no way to imagine he was in there. I opened the door without thinking—and froze.
Luke was completely naked.
My eyes dropped instinctively. I couldn't avoid it. Even soft, he was big. Much bigger than I expected. My mind was flooded with improper, dirty, impulsive thoughts. Maybe it was the accumulated sexual frustration.
Or maybe it was his fault.
His voice pulled me back to reality. I understood the situation quickly. He had forgotten his underwear. And there was a beautiful woman in his bedroom.
That would be embarrassing.
A satisfied smile appeared on my lips. I admit it: it was fun to see him in that position.
"BIANCA."
He yelled at me.
In all the years I had known him, that had never happened. His usually indifferent face was now filled with anger—real anger. I was in shock. I never imagined seeing Luke like that.
Faced with that unexpected situation, I ended up helping him. More out of reflex than willingness.
Still, it upset me.
I had always been treated like a princess. Always flattered. Always desired. His attitudes, combined with what had just happened, affected me more than I wanted to admit. I get upset easily, I know that. And I have a terrible habit: taking it out on alcohol.
As soon as he left the house, I ordered several cans of beer.
I started drinking without thinking, drowning frustrations, resentments, and unresolved desires. When I realized it, my speech was already slurred.
That's when he came back.
To my surprise, Luke was altered too. In his hands, he carried a bottle of vodka. He sat down on the couch as if it were just another ordinary moment between us.
"Are you drinking again?" he asked, with a surprisingly light voice.
"And what do you have to do with that?" I replied, pretending I wasn't upset anymore.
"You're right…" he sighed. "I'm sorry for yelling at you earlier today."
There was sincerity in his voice.
I sat down beside him, feeling the heat of Luke's body through the fabric of his clothes. It was strange how something so simple—proximity—seemed to carry so much weight in that moment. The alcohol made everything slower, denser, as if every gesture mattered too much.
With the same glass I had been using to drink beer, I nudged it lightly toward him.
"Shut up and let's drink."
He didn't argue. Didn't joke. He simply opened the vodka bottle and poured a generous amount into the glass, as if he were willing to follow whatever decision I made from then on. We drank in silence for a few moments, the sound of liquid sliding down our throats the only thing breaking the heavy air in the room.
Luke seemed different. Looser. Less closed off. That always distant air was cracked, like a façade beginning to give way. And that gave me a strange sense of satisfaction.
Maybe power.
Maybe curiosity.
Maybe something uglier that I didn't want to name.
I watched him from the side as he drank. His relaxed jaw, his shoulders less tense, his gaze lost somewhere in the room. For the first time in a long time, Luke seemed… vulnerable. And that stirred something in me that shouldn't have.
The alcohol warmed my body. My recent frustrations bubbled up along with it, mixing desire, irritation, and an almost childish need for control. I was tired of being desired by weak men. Tired of empty dates. Tired of not feeling satisfied.
And there was Luke.
The same Luke who had always ignored me. Who never bowed. Who now dared to change, react, provoke.
Without realizing exactly when, my body leaned toward him. It was a slow movement, almost unconscious. My legs shifted, my torso moved forward, and when I realized it… I was on top of him.
Luke froze.
His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, too surprised to react immediately. I felt the tension run through his body, as if he were trying to decide between pushing me away or simply accepting what was happening.
The alcohol gave me courage. Or maybe it just removed the restraints I had been holding onto for too long.
My heart was pounding—not just from physical desire, but from the feeling of reversing something between us. For the first time, I wasn't just the untouchable figure. I was in control of the situation. Of the space. Of the moment.
I leaned in a little more, feeling his breathing change beneath me. Luke said nothing. Didn't try to push me away. Didn't try to hold me. He just stayed there, motionless, as if any movement could break something too fragile to be rebuilt.
And that… that pleased me.
There was something intoxicating about that role reversal. I wanted to crush that new attitude of his, that newly discovered confidence. I wanted to remind him where he stood. But at the same time, I didn't want him to go back to being indifferent like before.
I wanted him to react.
I wanted him to look at me the way everyone else did—but for a different reason. Not because of empty admiration. Not because of status. But because I was there. Present. Dominant.
I wanted Luke under my feet.
My toy.
And that desire didn't come only from lust, but from the sum of everything: the accumulated frustration, the alcohol running hot through my blood, the silent envy I felt seeing him with other women.
It was ugly to admit, but it was true.
The closeness made my body react before my mind could organize the thoughts. I could already feel the effect of the tension between us, that uncomfortable, almost palpable electricity.
Luke swallowed hard.
And at that moment, I knew:
whatever line existed between us until then… it had been crossed.
Without realizing it, my lips covered his. I had no idea what was going through Luke's mind—maybe it was the alcohol too. The kiss excited me even more. It was intense and harmonious; our lips moved in perfect sync, our tongues sliding over each other.
I felt Luke's hands slide over my back in a pleasant, sensual way. His goal was obvious: my ass. I was wearing only pajama shorts, made of light fabric, and when his hand finally reached it, I felt his firm grip. That naughty gesture made the kiss intensify even more. In response, I wrapped both arms around his head, squeezing tightly.
Our kiss only stopped when we ran out of breath. I looked into his eyes, our faces still very close, and I could see the lust there. He wanted it too. I took off my blouse, exposing my full breasts. I'm proud of them—the size and shape would make many women envious. Luke didn't waste time; his lips went straight to my nipple. It wasn't rough, it was gentle.
I felt his tongue circle the areola, and a sigh escaped my lips. At the same time, he kept squeezing and massaging my ass. I could already feel the prominent bulge in his pants. At that moment, I was already wet. I pulled Luke away from my breasts and gestured for him to take off his shirt. He might be a loser, but he had a nice body.
I got off him. Luke unbuttoned his pants, and at the same time, I slid my hands inside his underwear and pulled everything down at once—underwear and pants. I tossed them aside and finally faced the sight that hadn't left my mind. Big, thick, and veiny. His cock pulsed with desire. I looked at his face and saw an expression almost begging me to suck him. I liked that. That was exactly what I wanted.
I wanted him to be dependent on me, to stay under my control. Gently, I grabbed his cock. It was warm, and the veins pulsed under my fingers. I parted my lips and slid them over the head, taking it into my mouth. A soft sigh escaped his lips. One thing that pleased me was that it didn't smell bad, nor did it have an unpleasant taste.
Luke ran his hand through my hair, caressing it. I started sucking him slowly, focusing on using plenty of saliva. Men like a wet blowjob. Since his cock was big, I held the base and began gentle up-and-down movements while working the top, focusing on the head. I continued sucking as my desire grew. I wanted him inside me.
"Let's go to my bedroom," I said, stopping the movement.
Luke agreed. I stood up, but to my surprise, my body was lifted off the ground. When I realized it, I was in his arms, being carried. For some strange reason, that warmed my heart, and a feeling of satisfaction took over me. Yes, that was what I wanted: to be treated like a princess. We reached my bedroom, and he laid me on the bed. What surprised me most was that we arrived intact, considering we were both drunk.
I pointed for Luke to get a condom from the nightstand drawer. He grabbed it and opened it. He was about to put it on, but I pulled him and pushed him onto the bed. I was the one in control of the situation, not him. I took off my shorts and panties. I could see his cock grow a bit when he saw my pussy. A satisfied smile appeared on my lips.
I took his cock, hard as a rock, and put the condom on. It was a little tight on him.
Without waiting any longer, I climbed on top. I aligned him with the entrance of my pussy and lowered my hips. The sensation was of being completely filled.
"Aaaah, fuck."
I couldn't hold back the moan that escaped my lips. Everything seemed to fit perfectly, hitting every sensitive spot inside me. Luke's face was also taken over by pleasure. I smiled, satisfied. That was just a taste of what he could have if he obeyed me.
Without holding back anymore, I began moving my hips up and down, slowly at first. I wanted to feel every inch of him.
I felt his hands slide over my body, caressing my waist until they reached my breasts. Lust took over my mind more and more. At that moment, my arms were resting on his stomach while my hips moved nonstop. We were in the cowgirl position. Since I was in control, I raised my hips as high as I could and then lowered them slowly, making his cock slide inside me.
I moved roughly, almost uncontrollably, completely overtaken by lust. The satisfaction of being completely filled, the sight of Luke's face distorted by pleasure, and the feeling of being in control brought my body closer and closer to climax. I didn't need many movements. On one last descent, my hips stopped, with his cock filling me entirely. My legs trembled, a shiver ran through my body, and my nipples hardened.
That was what I wanted: the sensation of orgasm. For a moment, my mind went completely blank. When I returned to reality, I saw Luke in front of me, his lips pressed to mine. I simply accepted the kiss, my arms wrapping around his body. When I realized it, Luke was on top of me, and I was lying on the bed. We had changed positions. I felt him penetrate me again. I was still sensitive, and that made my eyes roll back involuntarily.
Each movement of his hit my sensitive spots in a way I couldn't hold back the moans. The room was filled with the sound of our bodies colliding. I was about to climax again. But suddenly, he stopped. A whisper came near my ear, loaded with intent.
"Do you want to cum?" it was Luke.
"I do," I replied, driven by pure pleasure.
"Then ask me."
At that moment, our roles were reversed. I was no longer the one in control of the situation. I wasn't the one leading the pleasure. It was him. I realized that, and felt the reality I had built in my mind collapse. That idea didn't please me—but it didn't last even a second. All he had to do was move his hips slightly for me to give in again.
"Make me cum," I said, in a sweet tone.
At that instant, I accepted that he had control of the situation, of the act, and that I depended on him. Luke started moving his hips again, and the pleasurable sensation took over my body once more. Again, I felt my body tremble. An intense wave ran through every inch of me. I wrapped my arms around his body, squeezing tightly, moaning with pleasure.
"Aah… I'm cumming… I'm cumming, Luke."
"Very good."
He whispered in my ear, as if I had received a reward for doing what he had asked earlier. His movements intensified little by little, and soon after, I felt his cock pulse inside me. With a smile, he breathed into my ear:
"I came."
He pulled away, separating our sweaty bodies. I remained breathless, satisfied. After months, I was finally satisfied. I glanced at Luke; he removed the condom, tied it, and carelessly tossed it on the floor before lying down beside me. He said nothing. Only our breathing filled the room. Not long after, he fell asleep.
Watching his face, the only thing running through my mind was how to deal with this from now on.
I had crossed a line with no return.