My Best Friend's Camera Trap - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

The air was thick with masculine musk, hitting me like a physical force—my body responded instantly, thighs trembling as if wired with electricity.
Sophia's tired voice floated from the living room. "Why are the lights on? Is Jasmine back?" Her footsteps grew closer.
Panic flashed between us. Derek moved first, shutting the door behind him.
"Nah, she's not home. Must've left them on."
A pause. "Then why'd you close the door?"
"Gotta piss."
He deflected her suspicion, then shot me a look. What? Did he expect me to magically produce toilet sounds?
His eyes kept darting toward the sink.
Sophia's skepticism bled through the door. "You're peeing now?"
As her steps neared, I caved to sheer embarrassment, slapping both hands over my face like a kid playing hide-and-seek.
The faucet roared to life.
Sophia hesitated outside. Derek cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm peeing. Wanna come supervise?"
A beat. Then retreating footsteps. "Hurry up. If Jasmine walks in on this, it'll be beyond awkward."
The rest of the day blurred.
After Derek left, I stayed locked in the bathroom until my heartbeat steadied, then crept to my room—only to find Sophia blocking the doorway, arms crossed.
"So you were in there."
My stomach dropped. Before I could stammer an excuse, she waved me off. "Relax. If I cared, I'd have dumped him the second he admitted wanting you. What shocks me is you playing mute."
I bit my lip hard. Her gaze flicked to the damp tile, then back to me—understanding flashing in her eyes.
Then she leaned in, grinning. "Bestie privilege: if you can't handle the next few days… I'll loan you Derek?"
The absurdity broke the tension. I shoved her. "Ew! Since when are men library books?!"
Face burning, I bolted past her.
I thought that was the end.
But Sophia's joke unleashed something. That night, my brain tormented me with images—Derek's body pinning Sophia to the couch, the obscene size I'd glimpsed in the bathroom.
So much bigger than my husband.
In bed, I clenched my thighs, scalp prickling. Even my breaths carried traces of his scent.
I tortured myself with ballet stretches until exhaustion won—only to dream of Derek folding me into a split, slamming into me with no mercy.
He flipped me over, ripped my leotard, and—
I woke at dawn, panting, sheets soaked.
Morning found me hollow-eyed.
Sophia cornered me brushing my teeth, pointing at her swollen lips. "Look what Derek did! How am I supposed to explain this at the office?" A dramatic sigh. "But if I say no, he punishes me. It's exhausting."
Her fake complaint sent envy scorching through me. The toothbrush bristles scraped my tongue—mint doing nothing to douse the heat.
The next week, Derek came nightly.
At first, it was just noise keeping me awake. Then I glimpsed them through their cracked door—Sophia splayed across the mattress, eyes rolling back, lips trembling like she'd mainlined pleasure.
Alone in bed, I curled around my pillow, listening.
I almost called my husband—until I remembered his Instagram: clubbing with friends, ignoring my texts.
Tonight, their sounds took a darker turn.
Sophia's moans climbed higher—desperate, euphoric. My imagination ran wild. What was he doing to her?
Then a thud. Bare feet slapped hardwood as Sophia burst into my room, collapsing on me.
"Save me! He's gonna wreck me!"
Her lust-drunk weight pinned me. I shrieked, squirming—
Too late. The doorway darkened.
Derek stood there, that monstrous silhouette swinging between his thighs.
Sophia shuddered against me. My emptiness screamed.
I stopped fighting.
Letting her roll aside, I took her place.