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I rocked into the grip of his legs, my length brushing against Wade’s twitching one, before I let loose. My cock jerked and a rush of pleasure hit me like a speeding semi. I cursed through my release, then unleashed a mantra of “fucking little slut, look what you did” and “my bitch in heat” over and over again until I drifted back to reality.
Wade collapsed on the bed, panting, his body flailing all over the place. The tail swayed as he shifted his ass and groaned, and my guess was that he’d landed in some of his cooling cum. Well, too bad for him.
I rose and walked to the attached bathroom to grab a towel and get it wet. First, I cleaned myself up, and then I went back to the bed. I was careful extracting the plug from him, ignoring the sinful sounds he made as I did. I washed the lube off his ass and cleaned down his thighs where my cum painted his skin.
I moved him around, and he went, limbs loose like a wet noodle. I rolled him on his back into a clean spot on the bedding and washed his abs and cock, and then I went to get him a glass of water. When I came back, I helped him sit up so he could take small, delicate sips. I watched his face for any signs of a sub drop, but none materialized. His cheeks were pleasantly flushed and he seemed with it, not still lost chasing a high.
He gave me an exhausted smile.
“Thanks,” he murmured.
I snorted. “Don’t thank me. Get up, get your clothes on, and leave.”
I knew better than this and guilt churned in my gut. He deserved to be treated with the best aftercare possible, yet when I looked at him, I saw nothing but his betrayal. I didn’t want to do all those sweet things for him.
He blinked open his eyes and stared at me, confused. “Wha?—”
“Out. Now.” I waved my hand toward the open door of the bedroom. “I am not your boyfriend, Sawyer. Get the fuck out. Tomorrow, we work like normal, and then you’ll come back tomorrow night.”
He frowned harder, slowly sitting. “I don’t understand.”
I laughed loudly and went to throw the dirty towel in the bathroom laundry basket. When I came back, he’d moved to the edge of the bed, kneading his hands together nervously. “What is there not to understand? You’re my bitch. My shoelicker. My traitorous little slut. Nothing more. Get your clothes and get the fuck out.”
I didn’t miss the hurt that passed over his face, but he jutted out his chin and rose on shaky legs. “Yes, Sir.”
I watched him work to pull on his clothing as fast as he could. A few times he nearly tripped in his haste, but when he was fully dressed, he hustled toward the front door. He gave me one final glance over his shoulder, and I grinned at him before he left.
I was many things. Cold, as my ex said. Emotionally stunted. A control freak. But I wasn’tcompletelyheartless, and a small part of me felt bad for kicking him out so fast.He tried to destroy Émeraude Technologies.I forced myself not to care. If he didn’t want this, he had a safe phrase he could use.
7
WADE LEE
I wantedto hold on to these awful emotions, the ones that made me feel like dying. They were good. And terrible.What the hell is wrong with me?
Sighing, I walked in the dark from the bus stop to the front door of the small shotgun house my brother rented on the edge of town. The bag of food I had in my hand wasn’t the healthiest, and he should be eating better, but I wasn’t exactly rolling in dough. Neither was he, which was why I’d grabbed the McDonald’s to begin with.
Sucking in a deep breath, I knocked on the door as a spacey sensation flowed through my body. Albion had mindfucked me tonight, which had rocked me way more than if he would’ve shoved his dick in me. I squeezed my asscheeks together and the ghost sensation of having something stuffed in my hole made me dizzy. I shook myself all over as the porch light turned on and the door opened.
My brother, Neil, stood with one arm resting on the doorjamb, and I felt bad for him. There were bags under his eyes that made him look as if he’d been punched, and his short blond hair was everywhere. The vivid red scar in the center of his chest from his heart surgery was still a bold slash against his pale skin, but he stood there without a care in the world in his jeans and nothing else. An unlit cigarette dangled out of the corner of his mouth.
With a growl, I snatched the cigarette and threw it. “You’re not supposed to be doing that!”
He shrugged and grabbed the bag of food from me. “So?”
I wanted to rant at him because I felt like a jar full of shaken bees right now, but I didn’t. Instead, I followed him inside. The first thing that hit me was a terrible odor.
“What is that stench?” I asked, glancing wildly around the tiny living room, which was nothing more than a couch with a TV jammed against the far wall. I followed my nose into the kitchen and grimaced. The scent was obviously coming from somewhere in here. This room was equally cramped with barely any counter space. Thankfully there was a window over the sink or it would be a dungeon.
“You work in a restaurant!” I glared at the sink stacked full of dishes and the garbage can that was a couple of candy bar wrappers away from overflowing.
When I turned to glare at him and cross my arms, he shrugged. “Yeah, that’s why I don’t want to do this shit at home.” He flopped down on the couch and pulled a burger out of the bag I’d handed him.
“You are a chef!” I shook my head and scowled at the awful mess.
“Cook,” he corrected with a mouthful of food making the words almost unintelligible.
Rolling my eyes, I stomped toward the sink and started shifting around dishes so I could wash them. I felt ready to come apart at the seams as I did the manual labor, which was generally soothing—though tonight moving my body around did nothing except remind me of how I’d been used. The small aches and pains were delicious. I needed to hurry home and get started on the work Albion had given me today, but I hadn’t been involved in any of the planning meetings, so I wasn’t really sure what he wanted.
