I Stripped For My Ex

I’m not gonna lie, walking into that cabin felt like stepping into a damn minefield. It was supposed to be a chill weekend with mutual friends, a little getaway in the mountains to drink, laugh, and forget the world for a couple days. But the second I saw Daniela there, leaning against the kitchen counter with a beer in her hand, I felt my stomach twist. My ex. My fucking ex, looking like she hadn’t aged a day since we split two years ago. Worse, she caught my eye and gave me that smirk—the one that used to get me hard in half a second flat. I mumbled a hello, barely audible, and headed straight for the cooler on the porch. I needed air. Needed to get away from the heat already building under my skin.

We’d been a mess together. Too much fighting, too much passion, not enough sense to make it work. But the sex? Christ, the sex was unreal. She knew how to push every button I had, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it sometimes. Seeing her now, in those tight jeans and a flannel tied up just under her chest, showing a sliver of tanned stomach, it was like a punch to the gut. I cracked open a beer and took a long swig, trying to cool off. Didn’t help.

The cabin was packed with about a dozen of us, all friends from overlapping circles. Someone had music blaring, a thumping bassline that rattled the wooden walls. People were laughing, shouting over each other, already half-drunk even though it wasn’t even dark yet. I stayed outside for a while, pretending to enjoy the view of the pine trees and the lake in the distance, but really I was just avoiding her. Didn’t work for long. Maybe an hour in, after a few more beers, I went back inside to grab some chips or something, and there she was. Sitting on the arm of the couch, legs crossed, laughing at something one of the guys said. She saw me, and her laugh cut off. Just for a second. Then she tilted her head, like she was daring me to come closer.

“Rohan,” she said, voice smooth as honey. “You hiding from me already?”

I snorted, grabbing a handful of chips from the bowl on the coffee table. “Nah. Just needed some space. It’s crowded in here.”

“Mm-hmm.” She didn’t buy it. I could tell from the way her eyes flicked over me, slow and deliberate. “You look good, though. Been working out?”

I shrugged, trying to play it cool, but my heart was hammering. “A little. You?”

“Oh, you know me. Always gotta stay in shape.” She slid off the couch arm, standing just close enough that I could smell her perfume—something citrusy, sharp, the same damn scent she used to wear. My jaw tightened. “Wanna catch up later? Away from all this noise?”

I should’ve said no. Should’ve walked away right then. But I didn’t. “Maybe,” I said, and hated myself for it.

The night went on. More drinks, stupid games, people pairing off to smoke or make out in dark corners of the cabin. I kept my distance from Daniela, or at least I tried to. But every time I looked up, she was there. Watching me. Smiling like she knew something I didn’t. It was driving me up the wall, this push and pull, the memory of how her hands felt on me clashing with the fact that we were done. Over. Shouldn’t be doing this dance again.

Around midnight, things took a turn. Someone—think it was Jake, the loudmouth of the group—suggested a game. Not truth or dare, thank God, but close enough. A challenge. Everyone had to do something bold, something to “entertain the crowd,” as he put it. People started daring each other to chug disgusting mixed drinks or tell embarrassing stories. Then Jake, slurring a little, pointed at Daniela. “Your turn, babe. Gimme something good. Something... sexy.”

The room hooted and cheered. I felt my fists clench at my sides. Didn’t like him calling her babe, even if it was just drunk talk. Daniela raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Sexy, huh? Alright. How ‘bout a little dance?”

More cheers. My throat went dry. She didn’t mean... no, she wouldn’t. Not here. Not with me watching. But then she stood up, kicked off her boots, and started moving. Slow at first, hips swaying to the music still playing in the background. The room got quieter, all eyes on her. She unbuttoned the top of her flannel, just one button, then another, letting it fall open to show the black lace bra underneath. My mouth went dry as sandpaper. I couldn’t look away, even though I knew I should.

She caught my eye mid-move, locking onto me while her hands slid down her sides, teasing the waistband of her jeans. It wasn’t just a dance. It was a fucking strip tease, and it was for me. I knew it. Everyone else might’ve thought it was for the crowd, but the way she held my gaze, the way her lips curled just for me—she was doing this to mess with me. To make me remember.

“Damn, girl,” someone muttered. Others laughed, egging her on. She didn’t break eye contact with me, though. Not once. She turned, giving the room a view of her ass as she bent slightly, sliding the flannel off her shoulders. It hit the floor. Her skin was smooth, glowing under the cabin’s dim lights, and I could see the little freckles on her shoulder blades. I used to kiss those. Used to drag my tongue over them while she squirmed under me.

I shifted in my seat, trying to hide how hard I was getting. This was torture. Pure fucking torture. She unbuttoned her jeans next, just the top button, and slid them down an inch, showing the edge of matching black lace. The room was losing it now, shouting encouragement, but all I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears. I wanted to stand up, grab her, drag her somewhere private. But I didn’t. I sat there, frozen, letting her unravel me without even touching me.

Then she stopped. Just like that. Jeans half-down, bra still on, she straightened up and laughed, brushing her hair back. “Alright, pervs. Show’s over. Gotta leave something to the imagination.”

Boos and groans filled the room. She didn’t care. She grabbed her flannel, tied it back around her waist without buttoning it, and sat down like nothing happened. But her eyes were on me again, daring me to react. I didn’t. Couldn’t. My hands were gripping the armrest of the chair so hard I thought I’d snap it.

The game moved on. Someone else took a turn, did something dumb. I wasn’t paying attention. All I could think about was her. The way her body moved. The fact that she’d exposed herself like that, knowing I was watching. Knowing what it would do to me. I downed the rest of my beer in one go, trying to shake it off, but the buzz only made it worse. Made me want her more.

About twenty minutes later, I couldn’t take it anymore. I got up, muttered something about needing a smoke, and headed for the back deck. The air was cool, sharp against my heated skin. I didn’t even have cigarettes on me—just needed to get out of there. I leaned against the railing, staring out at the dark woods, trying to get my head straight.

The door creaked behind me. I didn’t have to turn around to know it was her. I could feel it. “Thought you didn’t smoke,” Daniela said, her voice low, teasing.

“Don’t,” I grunted. “Just needed a breather.”

She stepped up beside me, close enough that her bare arm brushed mine. She hadn’t put her jeans back on properly yet; they were still slung low on her hips. The flannel was barely covering her chest. I tried not to look. Failed. “That dance really got to you, huh?” she murmured.

I laughed, short and bitter. “You think? What the hell was that, Dani? Trying to fuck with me?”

“Maybe.” She turned to face me, leaning one elbow on the railing. Her eyes were dark, glinting with something dangerous. “Or maybe I just wanted to see if you still look at me the same way. And you do.”

I clenched my jaw. Didn’t say anything. She stepped closer, her chest almost brushing mine now. I could feel the heat off her, smell that damn citrus again. “We shouldn’t,” I muttered, more to myself than to her.

“Shouldn’t what?” Her hand came up, fingers grazing my arm. Just a light touch, but it sent a jolt straight through me. “I’m not doing anything, Rohan. Just standing here.”

Bullshit. She knew exactly what she was doing. I grabbed her wrist, not hard, just firm enough to stop her. “Don’t play games. Not with me.”

Her smirk faded, but her eyes didn’t. They burned into mine. “I’m not playing. I miss you. Missed this.” Her free hand slid up my chest, slow, testing. I didn’t stop her. Couldn’t. My grip on her wrist loosened, and she pressed closer, her body flush against mine now. I could feel every curve, every inch of her through that thin flannel.

“Fuck,” I breathed, and then I was kissing her. Hard, messy, like I’d been starving for it. Her mouth opened under mine, hot and wet, her tongue sliding against mine in a way that made my knees weak. Her hands were on my shoulders, then my neck, pulling me down to her. I backed her up against the railing, my hands gripping her hips, feeling the bare skin above her jeans. She gasped into my mouth when I squeezed, and I felt her shudder.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” I growled against her lips, sliding one hand up under the flannel, finding the lace of her bra. My thumb brushed over the fabric, feeling the hard peak underneath. She arched into me, a little moan slipping out.

“Only for you,” she whispered, and goddamn if that didn’t wreck me. I pushed the flannel aside, exposing her chest to the cool night air, and she didn’t even flinch. Just looked at me with those heavy-lidded eyes, daring me to keep going. I bent down, dragging my mouth over her collarbone, then lower, sucking at the skin just above her bra. She shivered, fingers digging into my hair.

I glanced over my shoulder, half-expecting someone to come out and catch us. The deck was empty, but the windows of the cabin glowed with light, shadows moving inside. They could see us if they looked. Part of me hated how much that turned me on—the idea of being watched, of her being seen like this with me. I pulled the bra strap down her shoulder, baring more of her, and she let out a shaky breath.

“Rohan,” she murmured, voice thick. “Don’t stop.”

I didn’t. I shoved the lace down completely, exposing her to the night, and took her into my mouth. She stifled a cry, biting down on her lip, her head tipping back against the railing. I worked her with my tongue, slow circles, then harder, feeling her tremble under me. My other hand slid down, pushing her jeans lower, fingers dipping just under the waistband of her panties. She was already soaked; I could feel it through the fabric. I groaned against her skin, the taste and heat of her driving me insane.

“Fuck, Dani,” I muttered, pulling back just enough to look at her. Her chest was heaving, her skin flushed, eyes half-closed. “You’re killing me. Right here, where anyone could see.”

She smirked, shaky but still cocky. “Let ‘em. I don’t care. Do you?”

I should’ve. I really should’ve. But I didn’t. I kissed her again, rougher this time, my hand slipping fully into her panties now, finding her slick and ready. She gasped, hips bucking against my fingers as I stroked her, slow at first, then faster, feeling her tighten around me. Her nails scratched at my back through my shirt, and I could tell she was close already.

“Talk to me,” she panted, voice desperate. “Tell me how much you want this.”

I pressed my forehead to hers, my fingers working her harder. “I’ve wanted this since I walked in and saw you. Wanted to bend you over right there in front of everyone. Show ‘em you’re still mine, even if you’re not supposed to be.”

She whimpered at that, her body clenching around me, and then she was coming, hard and fast, her breath hitching in sharp little gasps. I held her through it, feeling every shudder, every pulse, until she slumped against me, spent.

But I wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. I pulled my hand out, slick with her, and yanked her jeans down further, just enough to get access. She didn’t protest, just nodded, her hands fumbling with my belt. It took a second—my fingers were clumsy with need—but I got my jeans open, shoved them down, and lifted her against the railing. Her legs wrapped around me, tight, and I pushed into her in one hard thrust.

She cried out, louder than she should’ve, and I slapped a hand over her mouth, muffling it. “Quiet,” I hissed, but I was grinning, couldn’t help it. The feel of her, hot and gripping me so damn tight, was almost too much. I moved slow at first, savoring it, feeling every inch of her. Her eyes were on mine, wide and wild, her muffled moans vibrating against my palm.

“Goddamn, you’re perfect,” I muttered, picking up the pace, the railing creaking under us. “Always were. Shouldn’t feel this good, but it does.”

She nodded, eyes fluttering, her hands clutching at my shoulders. I could feel her building again, her body tensing, and I wasn’t far behind. The risk, the exposure, the fact that we could be caught any second—it pushed me over the edge faster than I expected. I buried my face in her neck, biting down to keep from shouting as I finished, feeling her clench around me one last time as she came again, quieter this time but just as intense.

We stayed like that for a minute, breathing hard, tangled together against the railing. Then reality hit. I pulled out, adjusted my jeans, helped her fix her clothes. Neither of us said anything. What was there to say? We’d crossed a line we swore we wouldn’t cross again. The guilt was there, heavy in my chest, but so was the afterglow, buzzing under my skin.

She smoothed her flannel, gave me a small, unreadable smile. “See you around, Rohan,” she said, voice soft but final. Then she turned and walked back into the cabin, the door clicking shut behind her. I stood there, alone on the deck, staring at the spot where she’d been, feeling like I’d just been hit by a truck. Not angry, not even regretful. Just... done. For now.