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He considers my question. "I wouldn't sayany.You can tell me when you want someone's cock inside you. You can even tell me when you don't. I'll just be the one who decides in the end."
That's a lot to take in. I should be freaking out.
Am I freaking out? I don’t think so. I don’t even think I’m that surprised. Maybe I’m numb, in shock, losing it. But if I’m honest with myself, I feel like a part of me knew where I would end up ever since June.
This is what I truly ran from back then. Not just Camden’s desires, but also the part of me that isn’t disgusted by them.
I should be repulsed, angry, belligerent.
Instead, I’m…strangely flattered? I knew he wanted to fuck me, and I knew how. I guessed it wouldn’t be just him. He’ll show me off to his friends and let them take turns with me, breaking whatever delusion I harbored about being normal.What I didn’t expect is that he doesn’t want me just once. He’s laying claim to all my Fridays. He’s not even touched me yet, and he’s looking past the conquest, past the V card.
God help me, I like that.
At least, I manage to fake affront. "So you can pimp me out to anybody. What's the difference between you and my mother's gangster friends?"
In a year, or five, or ten, I can tell myself I fought. I argued. I respected myself.
I know I’ll give in. I suspect he does too. But I didn’t just lie down and take it.
He laughs out loud. "Well, for one, I don't intend to keep you on your back every day and night for the next twenty years, pumped on drugs and booze and cocks. Do you think you were targeted because of your mother’s tiny debt?" He rolls his eyes. “They know what a girl like you is worth.”
Worth.
That’s just it, isn’t it? Those gangsters took a look at me and decided I’d be a wonderful addition to their collection of coke-addicted mob bunnies—an advantageous replacement for my aging, imprisoned mother.
Camden decided I am worth an education, safety, comfort. On his terms, not mine, but his terms are more ambitious than what I dared plan for myself.
They’re treating me like trash. He’s treating me like a princess.
Still, I argue. I don’t think I’m capable of not arguing, not pushing. "I'm not comfortable with you sharing me withjust anyone."
"I'm not a comfortable person to be with, princess,” he replies gently. “Otherwise I wouldn't have to bribe you into a relationship."
I laugh. This is his idea of a relationship? Fucking mewith his friendsevery Friday.
No wonder the guy doesn't have a girlfriend, despite looking like Apollo and earning as much as Midas hourly.Then again, I’m sure some would go for it, with all the perversions it entails. The only reason he’s not taken is because he doesn’t want to be.
"Whoever we play with will be in our age range, and you'll be attracted to them. That's a promise. I break that promise, you can walk out of the deal with no repercussions from me."
I’m surprised he hands me another bone, still negotiating, even though he must realize he won. He got me exactly where he wants me. I don't have much of a choice, threatened by a seriously fucked up gang and now homeless, thanks to him.
I could ask Erica for the money, but if I did, I’d ruin my friendship over it. I’d forever see her as someone I owe money to, and I’d feel uncomfortable. I remember when she let me a hundred dollars before I started working at Silks. I could barely say a word to her until I paid her back. And how long would it take me to pay back tens of thousands? Not to mention, I’d still have the issue of my medical bills and housing on top of that.
Erica’s cash would be a Band-Aid on a bullet wound. Camden’s offer is the set of stitches I need.
"So, we covered the what. I'd be yours every Friday," I summarize. "Until when?"
"Fast learner," he tease. "Until you graduate?"
"No way. That's too long."That's a hell of a stretch, to be beholden to a deal that goes against everything that makes me the person I have been all my life. Being shared. Relinquishing control.
"The end of this school year, then," he amends, easily subtracting three years from his initial bid.
My instinct is to push again, but before I say a word, he tells me,"I'm going easy on you because you're pale and hooked to an IV. I won't go any lower than that, though."
I bite back my protest and bob my head. "All right."
One year. I can handle one year of Camden Hunt’s perversions, no matter what happens. Right?
