She was leaning her head against Kaydon, Kaydon’s hand draping around her shoulders.
Eric said he wouldn’t leave, and he meant it.
But that didn’t mean that he wasn’t preparing for the inevitable request.
He could see the writing on the wall, even if Adria couldn’t
CHAPTER 40
CURITIBA PARANÁ
Bryson drove for the last few hours while Eric and the rest of them slept. The sound of the dirt road was a constant reminder that they were far from home. Not that Bryson needed the reminder. The air was stifling and the heat was unbearable. He didn’t understand why people vacationed in places like this. Give him a lake and some pine trees any day. But here? Even with the ocean breeze on the boat, Bryson had struggled.
Fingers gripping the steering wheel, he tried to keep his thoughts on the road and his mind on the signs and other passing cars.
The desert air bore into him. It lay heavy, like a foul smell seeping into his pores.
Memories, unwanted and vivid, clawed their way to the surface. Regan’s slick, sweaty body, pinning him down, thrusting into him. The heat, the smell, the sheer brutality of it all. It was as if the devil himself was riding shotgun, forcing Bryson to relive his most degrading moments.
“You like that, don’t you, baby? Let me hurt you.”Regan’s voice echoed in his mind, a cruel, taunting whisper. Bryson could still feel the carpet burning his cheek, Regan’s handsqueezing his shoulder like a vise. Usually, Regan made him take the dominant role, but there were days—dark, unlucky ones—when Regan wanted a break from being the bottom. On those days, Bryson fought to stay present, knowing that dissociation would only make it worse. Instead, he was forced to endure Regan’s unhinged, darkened sadism, dripping down upon him.
Regan pulled out, flipping Bryson onto his back, pushing his knees to his chest. “Fuck, you feel so good,” Regan grunted, pushing into him again. Bryson hated the slick slide of sweaty skin on skin, the musky smell of their bodies together. Regan’s hand wrapped around Bryson’s cock, and Bryson’s body betrayed him with a response.
“I’m not coming until you do,” Regan taunted, his voice a nasty sneer. Bryson’s stomach churned, bile rising in his throat.
A hand touched his shoulder, and Bryson jumped.
“What?” he snapped into the vehicle.
“Bryson,” Adria hissed, and he tried to relax his grip on the wheel.
“Turn here,” Eric said, no judgment in his voice.
For some reason, Eric being so accepting of his poor behavior just made Bryson’s already foul mood worse.
The town was moderately sized. Single-story stone buildings lined the streets. Lawn furniture and other adornments decorated the front yards.
They parked at a local restaurant with a broad front porch.
Inside were tall vaulted ceilings with large fan blades swirling, just below the metal roof.
They were only sitting for a moment when Eric said, “Hang on, I have to check on something.”
Bryson noticed Kaydon glancing around uneasily.
“What is it, Kay?”
Kaydon glanced over his shoulder before saying, “There are a lot of people in here, Bryce. A lot of people wearing red.”
Bryson looked around and suddenly noticed what Kaydon was seeing. Everyone seemed to be of the same age range, male and all of them had a bright red scarf located somewhere on their body.
“Local gang?” Seth whispered.
Kaydon’s hand shot out, squeezing Bryson’s thigh. “Holy shit, that’s Rolland,” Kaydon whispered, and Bryson’s heart stopped.
“Far left sitting at the bar,” Kaydon said, pulling the visor of his hat low.
“We need to get out of here now,” Bryson said.
