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Her jaw loosens, her mouth hanging open an inch wider.
“I fucking hate you!” she screams. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”
I hate myself. I pray she does get the chance to fucking kill me, but neither her words nor her threats prevent her pussy from clamping, rippling along my cock as she comes.
Her roar is more of a scream than marked with pleasure, and it’s tinted with hatred for her inability to control her body.
I fuck her through it, the clench of my jaw a real threat to cracking my back molars, but I can’t grunt my own pleasure. It would be taking things a step too far if that’s even fucking possible.
She looks more broken than I thought she could when she comes down from her release.
“You’re the dirtiest fucking whore I’ve ever seen,” the voice says, and I pray since he hasn’t mentioned it that he didn’t notice her orgasm. He doesn’t need that shit feeding his fucking perverse fantasies.
My nuts seize, and I know I’m going to come. I hate myself for it, but I can’t stop it any more than she could. Instead of staying inside of her, I pull free, sitting back on my calves.
I came in her last time, but I’d never do something like that while I’m in control.
I know what the client wanted, but he can put a fucking bullet in my head for the change in plans.
His groan of pleasure echoing around the room just as the first rope of cum splashes across her body impedes my own orgasm. It’s akin to pouring a bucket of cold water over my head. I consider it a blessing because I was already hating myself for being able to get that far in the first place.
My chin quivers, the threat of vomiting making my eyes sting as the audio in the room explodes with the sounds of money rolling in. The client fucking enjoyed it and is paying extra for the experience. My skin crawls at the look of betrayal in her eyes, and I don’t know if that energy is pointed in my direction or if she’s internalizing what just happened. Maybe it’s a little of both.
I swallow twice more as I look into her red-rimmed eyes, seeing pity more than anything there.
“I’m Nash,” I whisper. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
I barely shift to the left before puking.
Chapter 13
Ayla
Despite the hot shower, I’m still shaking an hour later. I knew there was a chance I’d have nothing more to do after the scene. Raul is an astute businessman. He normally doesn’t schedule paid video scenes on nights that it may take away from in-person clients. Why pick when he can get paid for both?
I don’t know why I think back to the time I was mugged outside of a movie theater when I was sixteen. Getting a knife pointed at me until I handed over the change from my movie ticket is nothing even close to the things I’ve experienced since.
I didn’t want to be seen as a victim. I wanted to be strong, commended for not crying until my dad picked me up. I was strong then, calling the cops right after the robber took off into the darkness. I gave them my statement, providing as many details as I could without so much as a quiver in my chin.
I wasn’t a victim. I told myself over and over, even as I cried into my pillow, unable to fall asleep. Even though it happened miles from my house, I no longer felt safe in my own home. I was certain the guy stood in the shadows and watched as I spoke with the cops, vowing to get back at me. No one ever climbed through my window to hurt me for speaking out, but they also never caught him either.
I don’t know when my mentality shifted. I don’t know when I started seeing myself as a victim. I think it happened right around the time Raul showed me a picture of my sister walking into her first class of the year. It didn’t take them long to figure out who I was and what connections I had to the outside world. They took my car from the dorm parking lot. They couldn’t draw any more suspicion if they wanted my lies to ring true to Alani. It wouldn’t exactly work if they found an abandoned vehicle a hundred yards from the building.
I know now that I’m a victim, just as much as I know the man that made me one today was also one. I sympathize with him, but at the same time, I can’t help but despise him too. Doing what he did to save his own hide is understandable. I’ve done it countless times in the last couple of months. I shouldn’t hold him to a higher standard than I have myself, but I can’t help it.
