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“Yours.”
She starts moving again, faster, taking what she wants. “Now you may come. Don’t hide it. Let Oliver hear how much you like being useful.”
I come with a sound I can’t swallow, hips jerking up, spilling into her while the open door carries every ugly grateful noise down the hall. I shake through it and keep giving her the noise because she told me to.
She chose me.
Heather climbs off me and I whine.
“Hush. Position.”
I know which one she means. I sit between her knees with my back to her, my cock softening against my wet thigh.
Heather starts brushing my hair. She doesn’t clean me first.
The bristles scrape the sore places her hand made. I go loose anyway.
“Such a good boy,” she says into my hair, quieter than she said it when I came. She draws the brush through the last section, tips my face, and looks at my mouth.
My throat works. “Stay with me.”
“No.” She sets the brush aside.
I expect her to clean me. Instead, she pulls sleep pants over the mess she left on my skin and puts me beneath the sheet.
“You did what you asked to do. Now you sleep.” She kisses my forehead. Not my mouth. “Good dolls get put away exactly as they were used.”
I watch her silhouette in the doorway before she closes the door and locks me in.
Her steps reach Oliver’s door. Then they turn around. They take the stairs.
I lie in the bed, used, praised, dripping with proof, and she didn’t go into his room. She let him hear the reward and then she went downstairs.
I tuck my face into the pillow, pull Duck against me, and smile until it hurts.
Fuck you, Oliver.
CHAPTER 21
Heather
Jamie is awake when I unlock his door.
He’s still in bed, sprawled beneath the sheet with Duck trapped against his ribs and his hair tangled across both pillows. He smiles when he sees me. It’s a different smile this morning.
“Come here.”
I take the ruler from my pocket. “Hand.”
His smile slips. “I was asking.”
“No. You were telling.”
Jamie looks at the ruler, then holds out his hand.
I strike his palm once.
He pulls it back against his chest. “Ow.”
