Chapter 2: The Locked Door Gambit

The week had been a blur of heat and hunger for Lily. Since that first night in her bedroom, she'd lost count--fifteen times, maybe twenty, her fingers slipping between her thighs at every chance. Mornings before her parents woke, she'd grind against her pillow, muffling her whimpers into the fabric. Afternoons in the shower, she'd let the spray hit her clit until her knees buckled. Once, in the backyard shed, she'd fucked herself with a three fingers, the splintered wood scraping her palm as she came, mosquitoes buzzing around her sweat-slick legs. She was 19, restless, and hooked--a live wire sparking with need she couldn't name but couldn't ignore.

Now, she sat at her Aunt Karen's dining room table, the clatter of forks and chatter of family pressing in. It was Sunday, a week since that story had cracked her open, and the air in the old Victorian house was thick with roast chicken and tension. Her cousins bickered over the mashed potatoes, her Uncle Dave droned about his golf swing, and her mom beamed across the table, oblivious to the storm brewing in Lily's lap. She wore a sundress--pale yellow, innocent, the kind they'd all expect from "sweet little Lily"--but under it, her panties were already clinging to her, damp from the fantasies she'd nursed all day.

Jake had been at the coffee shop that morning, his lopsided grin flashing as he handed her a latte. She'd imagined his hands on her then--rough, calloused from steaming milk, sliding up her thighs--and the thought had followed her here, festering. She shifted in her chair, the wooden seat creaking under her, and felt the ache flare hotter. Her thighs squeezed together, a futile attempt to dull it, but it only made her slicker, the cotton of her underwear rubbing her clit in a way that sent a shiver up her spine.

"Lily, honey, you're awfully quiet tonight," Aunt Karen said, her voice cutting through the noise. Heads turned--her mom, her dad, her cousin Tara--all eyes on her, soft and expectant. "You excited for college next week?"

"Yeah," Lily mumbled, forcing a smile, her cheeks burning. "Just... taking it all in."

"She's always been the shy one," her mom chimed in, patting her hand. "Our good girl."

The words landed like gasoline on a fire. Good girl. If they knew--if they saw the way she'd sprawled on her bed last night, legs wide, fingers plunging deep as she moaned Jake's name--they'd choke on their fucking gravy. The thought made her squirm, a twisted thrill coiling in her gut. She needed to get out. Now.

"Bathroom," she blurted, pushing her chair back with a scrape. "Be right back."

Her mom nodded, already turning to Uncle Dave's next story, and Lily bolted, her sandals slapping the hardwood as she climbed the stairs two at a time. The upstairs hall was dim, lined with faded floral wallpaper and family photos--her at 10, gap-toothed and grinning, oblivious to the girl she'd become. She ducked into the bathroom, a small, tiled space with a clawfoot tub and a chipped porcelain sink. The door clicked shut behind her, and she twisted the lock, the tiny metallic snick echoing in her ears.

Her breath came fast, shallow, fogging the mirror as she leaned against the sink. The dress clung to her hips, sweat beading under her arms, and she could smell herself--sharp, musky, a secret blooming under the fabric. She yanked the hem up, bunching it around her waist, and stared at her reflection. Her face was flushed, pupils blown wide, lips parted like she was already mid-moan. The yellow sundress framed her exposed thighs, her white cotton panties skewed to one side, a dark patch spreading where she'd soaked through.

She didn't hesitate. Her hands moved like they had a mind of their own--one shoving her panties down to her knees, the other diving between her legs. Her fingers slid through her folds, slick and hot, and she gasped, the sound bouncing off the tiles. She was wetter than she'd ever been, her clit swollen, pulsing under her touch. She pressed down, circling fast, and her knees buckled, her ass hitting the edge of the sink with a thud.

Voices drifted up through the floorboards--muffled, but clear enough to make her heart lurch. "Lily's so mature now," her dad said, pride in his tone. "Ready to take on the world."

"Still so quiet, though," Aunt Karen added. "Such a sweet kid."

Lily bit her lip hard, tasting copper, and stuffed her free hand into her mouth, clamping down to muffle the whimper clawing up her throat. The irony was filthy--they were praising her innocence while she fucked herself ten feet above them, fingers plunging deep into her dripping cunt. She spread her legs wider, panties stretching taut between her knees, and watched herself in the mirror--hair wild, dress rucked up, a slutty little angel unraveling.

Her middle finger sank inside, then two, stretching her tight walls, and she rocked her hips, grinding her palm against her clit. The sink creaked under her weight, cold porcelain biting into her thighs, but she didn't care. She pictured Jake--his stupid grin, his hands pinning her to this sink, his cock replacing her fingers, thick and relentless. "Fuck," she hissed into her hand, the word garbled, her breath hot against her skin.

Downstairs, the chatter shifted--her name again. "She's starting at State next week," her mom said. "Can't believe our baby's all grown up."

Lily's eyes rolled back, the knot in her belly tightening. Grown up. She was--she was this, a trembling mess chasing her own cum while they ate their goddamn roast. Her fingers curled inside, hitting that spot she'd found two nights ago, and a jolt ripped through her, her toes curling in her sandals. She yanked the hand from her mouth, grabbed a towel off the rack, and shoved it against her face, biting the terrycloth as a moan tried to break free.

The voices kept coming, relentless. "She's got her head on straight," Uncle Dave said. "Not like some of these wild kids today."

Wild. She was wild. She was feral, pumping her fingers faster, the wet schlick of her pussy loud in her ears, drowned out only by the pounding of her pulse. Her thighs shook, muscles clenching, and she felt it--the edge, the drop, the fucking fall. She slammed her hips forward, driving her fingers as deep as they'd go, and came undone.

Her cry was a strangled grunt into the towel, muffled but raw, as her body convulsed. Her walls clamped around her fingers, pulsing, gushing slickness down her hand, dripping onto the tile below. Her legs spasmed, one sandal slipping off and clattering to the floor, and she gripped the sink with her free hand, knuckles white, riding the waves until they crashed her back to earth. She slumped there, panting, towel falling to her lap, her chest heaving under the sundress.

The mirror showed a wreck--hair plastered to her forehead, cheeks red, lips swollen where she'd bitten them. Her fingers glistened, coated in her own mess, and she pulled them out slow, a shiver chasing the emptiness they left behind. The panties dangled uselessly at her ankles now, and she kicked them off, letting them pool on the floor with her sandal. She didn't care. She felt invincible.

Downstairs, the conversation had moved on--something about Tara's new job--but her name lingered in the air, a ghost of their clueless praise. Lily straightened, tugging her dress down, smoothing it over her hips. She wiped her hand on the towel, tossed it into the hamper, and snatched her panties up, stuffing them into her pocket. The sandal went back on, her legs still shaky as she unlocked the door and stepped into the hall.

She crept downstairs, the hum of voices growing louder, and slid back into her seat. Her mom glanced over, smiling. "You okay, sweetie? You were gone a while."

"Yeah," Lily said, her voice steady, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Just needed a minute." She picked up her fork, thighs pressed tight under the table, her slick fingers brushing the napkin in her lap. They kept talking--about her future, her goodness--and she nodded along, the secret burning bright inside her. She wasn't their good girl anymore. She was something else, something more, and this was just the start.