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I gasped when he pressed a finger against my clit.

“No. Don’t stop.”

I had no idea why I said that, no idea why I wanted this. But… I did. I loved an experiment. Of course, none bought me such pleasure, but…

“You sure?” he asked, his voice softer, kinder.

“Yes.”

I had touched myself a million times, thinking about Yara… but this, this felt different.

I closed my eyes, trying to think of Yara, but the eyes that looked back at me were Enzo’s.

He pushed me to bed, bunching my dress up my thighs, pushing my legs apart. My body stiffened for a breath. Was this when I would feel the fear?

I didn’t, not when he placed a kiss on my closed eyes.

“I’m going to make you feel good, Trish. Do you want to feel good?” he asked again. “Do you want this?”

“Yes.”

“Hold on then.”

I bit back a moan when he rubbed a finger against me, but it was harder to do that when all I wanted was to scream.

“You are so fucking quiet, Trish. I want you to scream if you love it, and I want you to tell me what to do, how to do it if you don’t like it,” he said, pushing his fingers in and out. “I want you to tell me how to pleasure you. And if you want me to stop, just tell me.”

I bit my lips.

This wasn’t supposed to feel… feel like this. This was supposed to disgust me, but it didn’t.

I was confused. I was perplexed. But the feelings were all a hazy mess. I couldn’t look at it clearly, not when my mind was so clouded from whatever Enzo was doing.

“I—I like it,” I gasped, my breath coming out in a broken gasp.

“Good. What else do you want?”

I hated men. I hated their touch; I hated their scent, their presence. I had used men and discarded them promptly. I… considered them lesser than I was.

The hate was so ingrained in me that I only saw them as either a predator or prey.

But somehow Enzo’s touch wasn’t revolting. Somehow my body was forgetting the bad things and starting to recognize how good touch should feel… how it could be, when someone gave you exactly what you wanted.

Like this. Exactly like this. Soft and tender. Pleasurable.

“Do you want me to stop?” Enzo asked, looking up when I didn’t answer.

Robert Miller didn’t stop when I begged him to stop. I screamed, but no one heard me. I begged, and he only moved faster. I cried, and he told me I deserved it for wearing that tight dress.

I didn’t even have breasts. I didn’t. I…

If I had killed him for that, without being a coward, Tany would have lived. If I had told the sisters about it, Tany wouldn’t have jumped from the terrace.

I blamed myself for Tany’s death. I loved Yara for killing the man who broke my sister and me.

“Trish?” He looked up, and I had no idea what he saw in my face. His smile slowly withered before he pulled my dress down, his fingers smoothing the creases. “What’s up? Why are you… shit, did I do something wrong?”

I shook my head.