Page 71 of Bruised

My jaw ticks. How can I resist something like that? “Okay, puppy. Go on.”

I struggle to suppress a moan as he pulls my cock back between his lips and dives forward, sucking me into his mouth until the head hits the back of his throat. He holds me there for a second, and when he pulls back, a string of saliva connects his lips to the head of my cock. Fuck, yes.

Just then, there’s the creak of a footstep at the top of the stairs. Lane stands up lightning quick while I tuck my dick back into my sweatpants.

When Oliver emerges at the foot of the stairs, I scoot my chair under the table to hide the obvious bulge in my pants and act like nothing has happened.

“How’s Mom?” I drawl.

“She and Fabio are in Italy now,” Oliver says with a roll of his eyes. “Eating gelato and having a grand old time.”

“Ugh.”

I’ve never met Mom’s new boyfriend, Fabio, and don’t care to meet him if I can help it. From the way she lights up when she talks about him, I know they’ll be annoying to be around. I’ll have to get a job ASAP so I can move out, but part of me wants to freeze time and stay the way we are now. A summer of few responsibilities, with Lane within arm’s reach.

It won’t always be this way; the end of the summer is looming on the horizon, and the end of the summer means the end of mine and Lane’s brief fling. It was supposed to be, anyway. Now I’m not so sure. It’s not like I can make him my boyfriend; I don’t do boyfriends, and making him my boyfriend would involve too many risks.

He’d get to know me too well—find out I’m not just controlling in bed, but a jackass all around. A fucking failure of a human being. I can’t put myself through that. It’s better just to end it when the time comes.

When push comes to shove, I’ll have to choose between hurting him or risking him hurting me, and given I’m a selfish piece of shit, it’s not rocket science to figure out what I’ll choose.

25. BETTER LIES

My knees throb with pain as I get up from the hard tile floor and wipe my mouth on the back of my shirt, just in time for Oliver to come down the stairs.

Fuck, that was close. What the hell was I thinking?

Mason has a knack for making me cross my boundaries, but that was way too dangerous. It’s a miracle Oliver doesn’t seem to suspect us yet, or if he does, he at least hasn’t shown it.

When I got on my hands and knees and crawled across the kitchen floor, all I wanted was to feel needed. To be close to someone when it felt like my world was closing in on me. Only a few weeks remain of a summer that once seemed endless, and Oliver’s increasing phone calls with his mom make me painfully aware that soon, he’ll be out of my life—or at least out of town. Soon, he’ll start packing. He’s already sorting the stuff he’s going to bring with him and the stuff he’s going to leave into piles.

I’m part of the pile he’s going to leave. I’m right there, and he’s turning his back on me. It’s life, I know, but that doesn’t make it any easier to bear. I don’t want him to leave. Fuck, I don’t want to be alone.

Oliver makes me feel like something to be discarded, while Mason makes me feel like I’m wanted. Like I’m needed. At least in terms of my body. I want more than that, though—something I can’t even put a name to. Something that won’t make me feel so empty when I’m not in his bed. Something that won’t leave me feeling hollow.

Sore, sure. Wrecked, absolutely. Bruised, hell yeah. All of that and more.

And yet, I can’t help but think I’m giving him all of me, but he’s not giving me all of him. He’s giving me parts of his body, but none of his real thoughts. Who is he beyond that cocky, dominant facade? I’ve seen glimpses of it, but not nearly enough.

Maybe I’ve been wrong in never asking him about his life. Maybe I’ve made him think I don’t want to get to know him. I do—I just don’t know how to make him understand that. I don’t know how to connect with him other than through sex.

Then there’s the matter of his jealousy. I thought he’d gotten over it when I started wearing his collar, but apparently not. He got jealous simply because I asked Oliver to touch up my roots and not him. That’s his neediness showing through, and to be honest, I don’t mind it. In fact, it gives me hope I’m more to him than just a convenient place to dump his cum. At the same time, I worry Oliver will see through my avoidant glances and realize what’s really going on—the promise I’ve broken and the lies I tell to keep me afloat.

I’m risking a lot by being with Mason, but it doesn’t seem like he’s risking anything in return.

I want to know him, but so far, he’s shown no signs that he wants to know me. He just wants to fuck me. He just wants to… to own me. Control me. What I wear, who I see. And if that isn’t a red flag, I don’t know what is. He’s got me wrapped around his little finger, and I just keep begging for more.

What would happen if I hinted at wanting more than sex? He might ignore me and shut me up with a kiss—put me on my hands and knees and make it so good I forget what I was even talking about. He’s good at that.

Or, God forbid, he might shut me down. He might start ignoring me again, like he did after that day with the ice cream. I can’t handle that.

Maybe all I can do is pretend nothing’s wrong and just keep this thing between us going for as long as it can, because it still feels good most of the time. The last thing I want is to act too clingy, to scare him away. Maybe I should just be happy I at least have him in some ways, even if he owns far more of me than I own of him.

I touch his skin, but he touches my insides, and it all boils down to one dangerous realization—one that makes tears burn behind my eyes.

He’s not risking anything by being with me, but I’m risking my heart.

During the following week, a heatwave engulfs Portland and the rest of Oregon. Of course, the AC picked this as an excellent time to break.