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He swallowed. A brief bob of his throat rippled the two horizontal slashes that had my thumbs aching all week. I lifted his chin further, enjoying how loose his head was, how freely he let me control him.
It was strange. He could be such a delicate man, soft and supple despite his muscles, yet he had the power to bring me sleepless nights and torrents of pouring rage and desire. Why did he have such a grip on me?
“What are you thinking, Kitty Cat?”
I hated and loved my nickname. It took me back to a time when the five of us would spend hours chatting and laughing, playing music and singing together in that tiny, cold garage. Those days passed us by too easily. All that was left was my ruined flat and my shattered heart.
I lowered his chin, making him look at me. “Did you know what Goss did?” I asked.
His eyes shuttered closed, his deep sigh caressing my wrist. “Not completely. I asked but —”
“You spoke to him? When did you speak to him?” My eyes widened in surprise and annoyance. The news stories reported Clutch had cut off all contact with him after the trial. The idea that they were still friends sickened me.
“I visited him, but he didn’t tell me what happened.”
I let my thumb stroke his chin as I spoke. “So, you don’t know about the damage he caused? Or the messages on my walls? Or the video?”
His expression was pained as he looked up at me. I wished I could tie his hands behind his back, keep him in his place, and bind him so there wasn’t a chance he could touch me.
“Tell me what happened, Cat. What was so bad you had to run away from me? From us?”
I slowly closed my eyes and took a breath. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d spoken about this. They were memories I kept locked tight inside myself. Seeing Max opened them up.
“You don’t have a clue why I left, do you?” I laughed, releasing his chin, and bringing my hand to my mouth. “This is so rich. I almost can’t believe it.”
I tried to gather my thoughts, but my anger was rising again. I folded my arms. “Did you ask Goss what happened when you gave him the keys to my flat?”
I didn’t know how Goss had convinced him to hand them over, but he left them sitting on my kitchen counter, like he was showing me Max had allowed him in.
“He wasn’t clear. He just said he and his friends picked up the boxes.” He shook his head, his glossy black hair waving around his shoulders. “I don’t believe him. There has to be more. Why did you leave me, Cat?”
He looked like he wanted to hold me. He could get down on his knees and start begging. It wouldn’t make a difference; it wouldn’t change what had happened.
I took a deep breath, slowly exhaling, trying to channel my anger, but it was too strong. He had years, an entire decade, to find out what really happened, and even now, he was still acting innocent.
Running the back of my nails over his bruises, stroking his skin mindlessly, I ignored his flinches as I got in his face; my expression dark as I spoke. “Did you know Goss stole all my jewellery? Or that he spray-painted ‘whore’ above the sofa in blood-red paint, the one we used to fuck on when I got back from uni? Or that he tore all my family photos off the walls and stabbed holes in our eyes? Photos of my baby brother and sisters with their eyes torn out, their mouths scrawled with blackXs. But that wasn’t the worst part. Do you know what the worst part was, Max?”
He was trembling beneath my touch, quivering and sighing under my light strokes. My fingers trailed up behind his ears. I felt him shudder as I reached behind his piercings to scratch the grooves from the top of his ear down to his earlobes.
He wasn’t answering, too lost in my touch. I pressed my thumbs inside his ears, pinching the skin with my forefinger, tugging at him for an answer.
“Max,” I bit out harshly, bringing him back.
“The video.” His voice was all moans and whispers, heat pooling between my thighs as I watched his face.
His breath caught as I rubbed small circles with my thumbs.
I’d always loved his ears. He’d had a few piercings when we were together, but not as many as he did now.
“Yes. The video. It was a video of you bragging to your friends about how good I gave head, how easy it was to get me on my knees, and how much money you and Goss could weasel out of me before I realised the game.”
Goss had shot it from a crooked angle, and the quality was terrible. I couldn’t quite see Max’s face on the screen, but I knew it was him. I’d know his voice anywhere, even if it was cracked and broken.
It wasn’t the chaos of my apartment that tore me apart. When my phone went off, and I waded through the shock and horror pounding at my senses to look, all I saw was a simple message. ‘Happy Belated Birthday, Kitty Cat’, with the video attached.
Max’s eyes grew wide as I spoke, and it broke my heart to see recognition in them. I almost didn’t want to ask, but I had to.
“Do you know what I’m talking about?”
