His Private Swim Sessions - Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Vincent Roland had already shed his shorts with careless ease.
In the mirror, his bare form blocked my view as my legs locked around his waist, toes curling—an undeniably provocative stance.
But the angle felt too degrading. Pride flared hot in my chest, and I started to push back.
As Vincent leaned in, I pressed my palms against his firm torso.
"What's the matter, Evelyn? Weren't you the fearless one just a minute ago?"
He brushed off my resistance, wrenching my hands away with rough impatience.
That only made me fight harder.
But Vincent was too far gone to stop now.
My defiance seemed to stoke something darker in him.
"N-not here..."
The mirror made my skin crawl. I pleaded to go somewhere—anywhere—else.
Vincent dismissed me outright.
Instead, he crushed his mouth against mine, silencing my protests with bruising force.
A sharp instinct screamed inside me—something wasn't right.
Why was he so fixated on this damn mirror?
Suspicion doused my desire in an instant.
Clarity hit like ice water.
I shoved him back with everything I had and lunged for the door, not even stopping for my clothes.
But Vincent—a swim instructor, built for speed—caught me effortlessly.
His fingers clamped around my ankle just before my hand could grasp the knob.
I crashed face-first onto the tile, pain exploding through my skull, leaving me stunned and limp.
Vincent's shadow fell over me before he turned and locked the shower room door.
As the sliver of light disappeared, so did my hope.
He hauled me up and planted me back on the counter—forcing me to face the mirror again.