“Look at me, sweet thing,” he said, calling my gaze from where it had fixed on the fading ember.
I searched his eyes for some hint of what was in store, and how soon it would be over with. The idea of the wraith entering my body made my stomach lurch. I felt claimed already by a man who was perhaps too happy to keep our interactions secret. But Beck said he’d come back. To “settle,” whatever that meant. I didn’t care because it was a promise I knew he would keep. It was also something I found myself fantasizing about while Maslow squeezed my arm until it ached.
“You selfish bitch.” His lip curled with disgust as he brought his other hand around, grabbing my chin and tipping my head from one side to the other.
I swallowed a cry of protest and let him look—inspect—until realization settled on me.
This wasn’t about sex; it was about food.
For me, they were one and the same, and Maslow wasn’t so different. Not as different as I wished he was. What he was doing now, taking in my scent, feeling my essence like a second pulse, was reminiscent of how I sensed Beck. How his desire made my mouth water. How I wanted to languish with his cock inside me, connected to the thing that made me feel whole.
ButIwas the meal now. Full of provisions I’d wanted to hoard so I could enjoy this satiety for a while longer.
“You’ve been getting fucked on my property, under my roof, and not telling me about it?” The wraith shoved my head aside, and I kept it that way, dodging the fire in his glare.
“Where’s the footage, you dumb cunt?” He grabbed my other arm and pinned me to the wall while he loomed inches away, nearly spitting with every word that left his thin lips. “There’s dust collecting on the bed I made for you while you’restealingfrom me?”
I swallowed again, trying not to whine or wince while his grip burrowed into me.
“Do you know how lucky you are?” Maslow asked. His hot breath made my skin bead with sweat. “I’ve got a line of bitches waiting to take what you have. Do you know what that is, baby boy?”
My lower lip quivered as he rushed to inform me.
“A chance. That’s what I’m giving you. Don’t fucking blow it.” His brow dipped, and he chuckled darkly. “Theonly thing you’d better beblowingis whatever lust-struck sap you drag to the fuck palace I built for you.”
He was right. I’d been avoiding the “Private Area” like I was running from my own reality. This was better than Hell, wasn’t it? Maybe better than whatever life I’d had before, though that version of me felt so distant that I sometimes wondered if he was real at all or someone I’d dreamed up. An imaginary friend I liked to play with on those nights I lay awake watching the watercolor lights paint my bedroom ceiling.
“What have you been charging?” Maslow’s question roused me to awareness. “Better be a lot because this is a classy establishment, and I don’t employ cheap whores.”
Tears stung my eyes.
I didn’t want to be bought or sold for any price. Beck had offered, and maybe… oh, fuck, maybe… Had he been trying to pay me in the bathroom? “Settle things,” as in his debt? The fee for my services?
The dig of Maslow’s fingers tethered me to the moment. When I said nothing, he shook me. My skull knocked against the wall so hard it must have left a dent.
“You didn’t fucking charge?” the wraith snarled.
Shame held my tongue, but he expected an answer, so I gave my head a stiff shake.
A growl rumbled up from Maslow’s gut, and his hands became like pincer claws, trying to cut through me.
“The next time you take a dick,” he said, “I want it on film. And paid for. This is not a charity, and I don’t pay you to give handouts.”
I wanted to remind him he didn’t pay me at all, claiming the money I earned paid for my clothes, or the food in our shared kitchen, or rent on my room.
“Figure it out, or I’ll start picking your clients for you,” Maslow continued. “Do you want that?”
One more choice taken.
Another liberty removed.
I shook my head again, emphatically this time.
“N-no,” I stammered.
“No,” Maslow confirmed. “Because you know where you’ll be, right? Collared and leashed to the bed like a goddamn dog waiting to get boned.” He chortled an abrupt laugh. “Fuck, that was fucking clever. Blowing and boning, baby boy. Bet it gets your heart pumping, doesn’t it?”
Tears were flowing freely now, glossing my cheeks and dripping from my lashes with each frantic blink. He could do it. Exactly what I’d feared. He could turn me into a piece of furniture. A living fuck doll with no life at all.
