With a single, laced touch, I became a whore dying of thirst. Desperate for just another sip of whatever he would let me taste.
I’d begged.
Crawled.
Milked him dry with my ankles locked around his hips, my pussy taking great, gulping swallows of Caledonian sperm. Ineededall he could give, and only grew greedy for more.
I was addicted.
Just as he’d promised.
Distracted by the way his eyes grew bottomless with want, for no matter the hurt or the shame or the pitiful self-loathing, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
But the clock was already ticking down.
It was only a matter of time before he claimed Sasha’s gift for himself—I had to act. Whatever it took.
Jaws clenched hard enough to make my enamel squeak, I pulled a slow, steady breath in, then stood. Finished my business, I turned to the sink and was startled by the creature trapped in the mirror.
My knuckles went whiter than the porcelain I seized to stop myself from screeching.
A girl. One I didn’t recognize, at first, because she was hollow. Skin papery and dry. Eyes sunken above cheekbones that had grown too sharp, when they’d once been plump and round.
But as I stared into that washed out gaze, I saw the truth I’d been trying so hard to deny.
Because she wasn’t a girl at all.
I was looking into the eyes of a whore. Created by suffering, I was exactly what they’d made me.
Ugly.
Desperate.
A survivor.
I nodded.
Swallowing the bile and the rot, I nodded again and turned on the tap. Filling myself with petty defiance, I washed up at the sink.
Reallywashed.
A whore’s bath in frigid water.
Scouring myself clean, I dabbed between my legs with cupped palms and poking fingers. Washing away any hint of what he’d left behind, until my flesh was slippery and fresh. Tender,cold, but no longer filthy.
Satisfied, I dropped Asher’s musty, used towel on the puddle I’d made, then kicked it into the shower stall without a glance and turned the door knob.
He was there—right there.
I staggered back, catching myself an instant before I screeched, I wrapped my fingers around my throat, and hissed, “Fuck! You lurk.”
Looming, somehow both relaxed and coiled, he filled the exit. Fingers hooked at the top of the doorframe, elbows bracketing his face, he was stretched out in such a way that made my throat flex as I fought not to look.
He grinned. Wicked, evil amusement crackling through the bond. “Something on your mind?” he drawled.
My cheeks burned, but I tried to sidestep him, and said, “No.”
He didn’t bother to match me, just refused to move. “No? Funny, I could haveswornI heard the call of a greedy little pussy begging for relief.”
