And I had to admit it wasn’t as fun as I thought it would be. It still felt good, though. So I didn’t stop. Not until my balls were tingling and my stomach was clenching and I was emptying my kids inside her. They came back out and leaked down the back of her leg as soon as I tugged her upright by the wrist.
She didn’t fight me then either, her body going limp when I scooped her up in my arms, walked out of the bathroom, and set her down on the bed before climbing in behind her.
I removed the cuffs with the key I had hidden in my cheek, which I didn’t need since I was able to pop my shoulders out of their sockets and flip the other loop of the cuffs off the bedpost. Loosened the metal from my wrists and dropped the matching set onto the nightstand with a loud clank.
Bellatrix didn’t move. She didn’t even acknowledge me so I curled up on the bed and pulled her closer to my chest, the wetness of her ass painting my upper thigh with blood and cum. And probably some of the shit I’d scraped out of her intestines.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered into her hair. It smelled fruity. Like that zebra-striped bubblegum that lost its flavor after the first chew. But you chewed it anyway, because some part of your brain thought the flavor would return. It never did. And yet you still kept chewing.
“It hurt,” she whispered back.
“It was supposed to.” I tucked her head under my chin and closed my eyes. My dick was already hard again. So I knew it wasn’t broken. I was too tired to do anything about it, though.
It didn’t take more than a few minutes for Bellatrix to start crying and shaking in my arms. And a few more minutes after that for me to fall asleep to the rhythm of her sobs. They reminded me of home.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
PATIENT 899: AGE 14 YEARS, 5 MONTHS
“Bend over.”
“Not unless you’re prepared to buy me dinner first, Doc.” I grinned, planted my palms out in front of me, and leaned over the exam table. My pants scrunched up and resting on my shoes as I gave Dr. Lambert a bird’s-eye view of my chocolate starfish. Soaped up and scrubbed down between all the little crevices.
Just how he liked it or I guess how I assumed he liked it. Didn’t think many people enjoyed a dirty asshole.
He ignored mine—despite how clean it was—and went straight for my spine as he pressed a gloved thumb over the highest scar and followed the trail down to the last incision just above where my cheeks dipped in. He never went any farther than that. Never slipped a hand around the front either.
Guess he really wasn’t interested ineverythingI had to offer. That might have been a first. Most of the others didn’t care where they put their dicks, as long as there was a hole to put 'em in. And if there weren’t, some of them made holes of their own.
Sex was just another form of currency. Naïve enough to think otherwise and they’d use it as punishment instead. Didn’t take me long to realize I preferred getting something out of it before I let someone put something in it.
“My mother’s not a whore, ya know,” I announced after a few seconds of strained silence, the doc scribbling down in my chart and me shifting my weight from foot to foot. Mostly because it pissed him off and partly because I really couldn’t control myself. Staying still felt like holding my breath under water. If I didn’t pop up for air, I was just gonna drown.
“Okay.” His pen stopped moving but only for a second. He never let me see what he was writing. It was a lot easier to poke around in his office after hours with the chair gone now, though.
“I heard them tell you she was a communist whore.” I lifted a shoulder, and he pressed down on it to keep my spine straight. “I wanted to clarify that she wasn’t.”
“Yeah, mine wasn’t either,” he grumbled under his breath. “Think you deserve a cookie or something?”
“Why, you got one?” I spun around, and he immediately spun me back to face the table.
“Nope.”
“Shame. There ain’t much I wouldn’t do for a cookie,” I hummed while counting all the little cracks in the wall. Anything to keep me from going stir crazy.
“So I’ve heard,” the doc said.
“From who?” I asked him.
“You. Or don’t you remember?”
“Right. Just making sure my shit ain’t getting around too much. There’s no such thing as secrets at B-wood.”
The doc dropped his clipboard onto the counter, my cue to pull up my pants and turn to face him. He stared at me for a long moment before replying. “I don’t know. I think there are plenty of secrets hidden inside these walls.”
He scanned the room, eyeing each of the four corners, as if he were trying to sniff those secrets out. They were a lot more obvious to those of us who grew up here. All it took was one person eavesdropping and whatever it was, was spreading faster than the warts on Hare’s dick.
After that, you were stuck with them. The gossip and the warts, because neither one of them disappeared completely.
