Every time I looked at him, those angry feelings of hurt and betrayal seemed to well up, and I just wanted to enjoy him right now.
I wanted to bask in the silence his touch offered my broken mind.
Allowing me that was the least he could do after he threw me away so easily.
Ignoring him, I slid my thumb between his spread legs, humming in satisfaction as the muscle fluttered against my touch.
“Look at this pretty little hole, just waiting to be filled up…” I murmured, unable to take my eyes away from his glistening crease.
Swiping up some of the lube that had leaked down with my index and middle finger, I shoved it directly inside him, marveling at the way his ass easily swallowed both of my fingers after the earlier prep in the shower.
“Jay!” he cried out; this time, it wasn’t a question, but a surprised cry of pleasure.
Still, I couldn’t respond. Not to that name.
I wasn’t Jay anymore.
I barely knew who Jay was.
I was the man Milo had willingly forgotten, and that was all I would ever be.
Pressing even more firmly on the back of his knees with my forearm, I did my best to ignore his pants and whines as I worked my fingers deeper. Methodically, I rubbed against his walls, searching for that spot inside him that I knew would make him beg for me.
When my fingers brushed it for the first time intwo years,I groaned right along with Milo as he bucked against the hold I had on his legs.
“There it is…” I growled, rubbing his prostate with intention. Using firm pressure, I passed my fingers over it again and again, knowing that if I wanted to, I could make him come just like this.
Milo loved having his prostate stroked, and I loved being the one to do it. But I wasn’t going to let him come. Not yet.
“Jay, baby… unnggg, I can’t—baby look at me… please…” He was slurring, and I was still unable to look away from his glistening ass.
Pulling my fingers out of his warm, soft hole, I gripped my cock with my now lube-slick hand and positioned the tip against his gaping entrance.
“Jay… Jay,lookat me!” Milo was begging, his voice cracking in desperation, but I couldn’t. Instead, I stared as I slid my fat tip up and down his spread crease until it notched with where I wanted it to go.
“Jay, please do not make me use my freaking safeword!” Milo cried, right as I was about to thrust into him.
I froze.
Moving just my head, I finally met his eyes.
He was crying, and the sight of his tear-splotched cheeks caused me to rear back. I stumbled away from him, but he followed me up, sitting on the edge of the bed and snatching up my wrists to tug me back in between his legs.
“You don’t have to stop, Jay. I just want you to look at me. Why can’t you look at me?” he asked, each word coming out as a choked sob.
I shook my head as the persistent sound of gunfire that always seemed to erupt in my mind amplified, and suddenly my skull was an echo chamber of fragmented horrors.
Me screaming Milo’s name, begging him not to abandon me.
Luke telling me over and over again that I was already forgotten.
No one was looking for me.
No one knew I existed.
Especially not Milo.
Real.
