Her eyes widened, and this time he saw the sparkle of genuine excitement flash through them. But instead of flattering him, it only irritated him. She was supposed to be more... resistant. More like...
Stop,he told himself.Focus on what this means. You want her. That’s all.
Cupping her chin, he shoved his thumb in her mouth. She gasped but didn’t flinch back, letting him force her mouth open wide. Her tongue danced lightly over his fingertip in a way that felt too practiced, too willing.
This is desire,he repeated to himself, even as something cold settled in his stomach.This is what attraction looks like.
He yanked her head forward, shoving himself deep into her mouth. His other hand fisted in her hair, cranking her neck at an awkward angle. The resistance of her throat against the intrusion sent satisfaction through him.
This is it. This is proof. I want her. I want women like her. There’s nothing wrong with me.
Her eyes watered, cheeks bulging. She got her hands up, fingers clamping around his hips, trying to brace herself. The sight of her struggling should have excited him more, should have proven his point about desire and dominance.
Instead, something nagging picked at the back of his mind.
Spit pooled along his shaft as he thrust in and out of her, not caring about the gagging sounds. He kept her head locked in place, shoving himself deeper. Her tongue worked circles around him, and he felt the familiar build of heat.
He held onto the bedpost, using it as leverage, chasing that validation he desperately needed.
This was control. This was power. This was normal male desire—
Her teeth grazed him.
Symond froze.
The world collapsed. Suddenly he wasn’t in a brothel with a willing prostitute. He was fifteen, confused and terrified, in a newdorm room he thought was safe. Until Gerard showed up that night, dragging him from his bed and forcing him to his knees.
He could still remember the taste, salt and copper. He’d been stupid enough to bite him. Got him good, too. But Gerard taught him quickly never to try again. One threat of making him a ward, of constant degradation, of making him a pet in front of the others forever—that was all it took. Symond never bit him again. Never fought him at all.
“What’s wrong, baby?” The shrill voice yanked him back from the memory. He didn’t know when he’d gone limp, but she was trying to revive him, trying to coax life back into him.
What the fuck am I doing?
This wasn’t desire. This wasn’t attraction. This was... this was exactly what Gerard had done to him. The same power, the same control, the same disregard for the person beneath him.
His throat was closing, his pulse pounding with panic instead of arousal. He stepped back, but the whore followed, gripping his ass, trying to pull him close again.
“It’s alright, baby. You’re not the first I’ve had to help with this type of problem. It’s completely normal.”
Normal.The word felt like mockery now. Nothing about this was normal. Nothing about him was normal.
She shoved his flaccid cock into her mouth again, trying to finish what he’d started. What he’d never be able to finish because he was broken in ways he was only just beginning to understand.
“Get off me!” He shoved her away, causing her to fall back. All the heat coursing through his body moments before was now concentrated on his cheeks and neck. He pulled his pants up with shaking hands, his shirt clinging to damp skin.
I shouldn’t be here.Not with her. Not like this.
He stared at the Elora look-alike, the resemblance even more noticeable now that she looked confused and scared. Just like he must have looked all those nights with Gerard.
The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. He hadn’t come here because he wanted her, or wanted Elora. He’d come here because some sick part of his brain had gotten them confused—desire and trauma, power and powerlessness, wanting and being wanted.
He’d thought he could prove his reaction in the barn was normal attraction. Instead, he’d proven the opposite. He couldn’t separate what Gerard had done to him from anything resembling healthy desire.
On shaky legs, he walked toward the door.
He couldn’t do this.
He needed control, but this wasn’t it. This was just Gerard’s poison spreading through him like an infection, making him into something he didn’t want to be.
