“What, I begged you to drag me into a staff toilet and rape me?Does that sound very likely?”
“It’s not my fantasy.You’re the one who constructed it.”
“Except I didn’t.Adam, I don’t know what you think has been arranged, but it’s not real.I don’t want any of this.Any of it…”
His hot breath continues to puff against the back of my neck.He’s high, and I really don’t know how much of what I’m saying is making an impression.A little, perhaps.Hopefully enough to sow serious doubts.There are so many things about this that don’t make sense, but the time to unravel them is later.Right now, I just need to get him to stop.“Adam, stop!”
“If you don’t want this, and didn’t organise it, why are you humping my hand?”
“I’m not.”
“You’re majorly hard for me.”
That doesn’t mean shit.I get hard when I’m roughly handled, that’s mechanics.It doesn’t mean I want to be groped.His brain is way too addled to grasp that as a concept though.
“You might think this is for you, you egotistical maniac, but it’s not.You don’t turn me on.”
“Who else would it be for?There’s no one else here, and that thing you staged with Ronnie was laughable.”He gives a throaty cackle.“No, this is definitely for me.”He squeezes in a way that’s far too vicious to ever be pleasurable, then he brushes his thumb over the all-too sensitive tip of my cock.Jeezus, fuck!Too much of that and I will come, much as I’m revolted by the notion.
“It’s not for you,” I repeat.
“Liar.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You’ve been bombarding me for weeks with messages about this.I’ve lost track of how many times you’ve got me to swear to adhere to the plan and ignore whatever you said once we got to it.”
“Adam, I did not ask you to stage dragging me into a toilet and assaulting me.What the hell have you taken that would convince you that was even likely?”
He rears back a little, and his brows furrow as he tries to unravel that mystery and provide an answer.I think maybe I’m making headway, but then he just shrugs.“Did you want some?”
“No.”
“It might help you relax.”
“No.”
“I’ve always preferred fucking face to face.”
That’s what he insisted upon with Whit.Christ, his mind is all over the shop.
“Adam, please.It’s bad enough that you blew up my car.”
“Huh?You’re so full of shit, Drake.You’re not pinning that on me.That was all your plan.You did that to yourself.I told you at the time that I thought it was unnecessary, but you were adamant that the letters weren’t being taken seriously enough, that you needed to escalate.”
Wait, he admits to knowing about the letters, but thinks I’ve been sending them to myself, and that I wired my own vehicle to blow?His head is more screwed up than I imagined.“Adam, how have we been communicating?”
“Text,” he mumbles, while cautiously fingering my arse.I’m not sure why he’s stopped being quite so aggressive.I suspect it would be foolish to think I’m getting through to him.
“Would you show me them?”
“Later.”
“Now,” I insist, and I risk raising my head enough to look back over my shoulder.He’s not looking at me at all.He’s looking down at his own cock, which is limp in his hand, and in absolutely no danger of entering my pucker.“Show me them now.”
“I thought you wanted to screw.”
The circularity of this conversation would be laughable, if the situation wasn’t so horrid.“I changed my mind.I don’t want to.Looks like you’re not really into it, either.”
