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I’m about to argue with him before I realize maybe Casey doesn’t need sleep right now. Maybe he needs something else. Maybe I do too. “How would you feel about some alcohol?”
“What?” he asks incredulously, sitting up to look at me. “Now?”
“Why the fuck not? I’d kill for a nice vodka right now. We have one that a Russian oligarch gave us last year. It’s the smoothest fucking shit.” I flash him a smile. “But we also have some ridiculously fancy brandy, top shelf tequila, the kind of wine that even 5-star restaurants can’t get their hands on. What’s your poison, Casey?”
Casey gapes at me. Then he reaches over to turn his bedside lamp on, turns back to look at me, and grins. I’ve never seen him smile like that.
Oh fuck, he has dimples.
How the fuck will I keep my hands off him now that I know he has dimples?
“My poison is tequila. Definitely tequila.”
I shoot him a mischievous smile. “Tequila it is.”
Chapter Seventeen
Casey
I'm fucked.
Absolutely, positively, fucked.
Because Jake just shot me the sexiest fucking smile I've ever seen and it hit me that I am now in close proximity with a man that is extremely attractive and dangerously safe. For the first time, he's not my new master, not my potential rapist, not my savior - he's just a man. A man with electric blue eyes and slightly too-big ears and scruff dusted across his jaw. A man with big hands and a broad chest and wide shoulders.
A man that, months ago, I would have shamelessly propositioned in the gay club just off my college's campus. I would have sidled right up to him, batted my lashes, and tossed out something cheesy like, "Good thing I'm a swimmer because I'm drowning in your eyes."
Everyone always assumed I was a top. With my confidence, athletic body, and big cock, it made stereotypical sense. And I never minded topping. But if I got to choose, I bottomed. I fucking loved bottoming.
Will I ever be able to bottom again? Will I ever trust someone enough to be vulnerable like that?
Hell, will I ever have sex at all again, or will I become celibate now?
I try to picture it. Sex. A man against me. Over me. Hands on me. A cock inside me. My stomach roils, my body shuddering. I quickly shove the images away. No. No. Never again.
But… what if it was with Jake?
It terrifies me that I don't know the answer.
"Hey." I nearly fall on my ass from turning around too fast, my heart racing at the sound of another person. It's just Jake, my brain tries to tell me. But it's too late. The familiar sensation of panic is rapidly crawling through me, too vicious to fight off. My head swims. My lungs burn.
“Casey?”
“Sorry.” I back away, trying to remember how to breathe. The urge to fall to my knees is nearly overwhelming. “I'm - I’m sorry.”
You’re okay, I tell myself. You’re fucking fine. He’s not your master. He’s not allowed to hurt you. He’s not playing games. Act like a normal fucking person you stupid, fucked up, piece of shit.
I flinch when a hand touches my shoulder, stumbling back a step. Alarms blare in my mind. I just flinched away from my master. How fucking dare I? How stupid could I -
No, no, not my master. I'm free.
This is freedom?
Fuck this. Fuck freedom.
But what else is there? Going back to DuGray?
Death?
