Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Worse yet, I feel bad about establishing any in the first place.
That feeling dissipates the moment I step into my bedroom to find him snooping through my drawers. I should have made him sit in front of a locked door until I came out. I may have been sorry for him when he told me about his upbringing, and it melted something in me, but this is a serious violation of boundaries.
I stew in my fury, considering my options when he gives me a cocky grin and winks as if any of this is okay.
“Wow. Nice collection…” He pulls out the dildo he was hiding behind his back as I imagine myself grabbing one of my belts from an open drawer and strangling him with it.
When I finally speak, the words come out as a jumble, and I try again, storming toward him. “Leave this! Let go! Who told you you can just browse my stuff? If it’s closed, it’s not for you,” I roar and peel the black dildo out of his hand.
At least he doesn’t wrestle me for it, because that would have been even more humiliating.
“Sorry!” Dalton raises his hands. “I got bored. I kind of thought that since it’s our bedroom now—”
“Those are my private things! You don’t get to just fucking gawk at my secrets,” rips out of me as breathing becomes increasingly difficult. The heat inside my head pulses in an ever quicker rhythm as I think about the way he smirked at me.
Even he thinks I’m ridiculous. A pathetic glutton for pleasure who’d break all rules to get his kicks. Isn’t that exactly what I’ve done by bringing him here?
Why am I like this?
Why do I… like this so much? If I have to be gay, couldn’t my needs at least be more… in line with what I’ve been taught a man should desire and be?
Dalton’s guilt is painted all over his stupidly handsome face. “I think it’s kinda hot that the scariest guy in the room’s got a drawer full of ways to get ruined. Maybe we could even… try one out?” He wiggles his eyebrows as my face fills with so much blood I’ll be getting a nose bleed any second.
“Are you deaf?” I shout, only to realize I’m still holding the dildo. It wiggles like an accusation, and I toss it at the nearest wall just to get it out of my hand. I never want to see that damn thing again, but, of course, that isn’t meant to be.
In a mockery of everything I stand for, the damn toy flips in the air and manages to land suction-base first.
I feel ill and retreat to the bathroom without thinking.
I put my face in my hands, but covering my eyes isn’t enough, because the image of the dildo, attached to the wall and wiggling at me, is burned under my eyelids. How can I ever be treated seriously, the way I deserve, by someone who’s seen that?
I don’t know how much time has passed by the time I hear a knock. It shocks me into reality, and I don’t know what to do, because how can I ever leave the bathroom now?
Even being this embarrassed about what happened is a sign of my weakness. I should have taken charge of the situation, made Dalton squirm. Instead, I lost all composure.
“Uh… Corvus? I’m sorry I looked. We don’t have to do anything with them if that’s— You know what? We can forget all about it if that’s what you want.”
Oh, God… how much more humiliating can this evening get? Now he thinks I’m some fragile thing in need of reassurance and lies.
I take my time to steady my voice before I respond, hiding under the fluffy towel covering my head. “I don’t think either of us could forget that.”
“Forget what? I don’t even know what you’re talking about.” And yet I sense the hint of a smile in his voice. He’s toying with me so he can plunge the knife in when I least expect it. “Can I come in?”
I don’t want him here.
I don’t even want him in my bedroom, and he wouldn’t be here in the first place, if I wasn’t worried he’ll stop breathing at night. But I can’t show this kind of weakness, so I toss the towel off my head and open the door, hitting him with it.
“Sure, the bathroom’s yours,” I tell him, walking back into the room, as if nothing’s happened. This is the way to do things.
He sighs and follows me, the towel still in his hands for some reason. I fully expect to find the offending silicone appendage still on the wall, waiting for me as if I’m supposed to mount it, but it’s gone.
When the towel lands on my head, my first instinct is to shove it away, but then Dalton rubs it, and I realize he’s… drying my hair? I don’t know how to feel about that.