Page 38 of Break

My stomach twists into knots as their gazes pinpoint on me, trailing my every move. I wish I hated having all their eyes on me, but underneath the nervousness, there’s a tremor of excitement that thrums through my soul. How messed up am I?

“Just give me a minute,” I say with a strained voice, hoping they comply. I just need a moment to myself because my mind is a cluster of conflicting thoughts and feelings. If I can just sort through them, maybe I’ll know the right thing to do.

Or maybe there’s no right thing.

When they nod, I turn and hurry off to go inside, leaving them out on the sidewalk for who knows how long they’ll stay.

My steps are the only sounds I hear when I round the corner to my office. The training room is dark, other than the lights above the doors showing the exits. I push open the door and breathe in relief when I see my phone waiting for me on my desk.

As my fingers curl around my phone, the door behind me closes. The sound of the lock turning in place sends goosebumps over my back.

Of course, they’re here. What else did I expect from giving orders to men who believe they own me?

Is this it? Is this the moment where their patience is gone and they take what they want, what they believe they deserve?

Should I stop them? Or should I give in? Letting them use me as a deep and dark part inside me… wants them to.

Warm hands run over my arm as my body tenses beneath the touch. The tension swirls lower, and I want to loathe what it makes me feel, how my core reacts in a way it shouldn’t. Even the gentle fanning of his warm breath against the back of my neck makes my heart pound.

“Don’t do this,” I say, but even I don’t believe the words, the lie.

Perhaps it’s okay to have this need for lack of control. Perhaps there is control in that. Or am I just crazier than I thought I was?

He steps closer, his body morphing against mine, and the tension inside me builds. But it isn’t the one that forms my pleasure. No, it is one that tells me that the body that’s pressed against my back isn’t one of my tormenters but another.

I can never forget how their bodies feel, even after all these years. Even with how much they have grown, I’ll always know how they feel as they are carved into me.

I try to move away, but my desk in front of me blocks my movement. The soft touch on my arms strengthens almost painfully, and then a warm breath teases over my ear.

“This is how you want it, right?”

The voice should bring some relief, some hope. But as I feel his hard cock pressing against my ass, I wonder if he would stop.

“Jared, what are you doing?” I say while I try to worm out of his grip that only seems to tighten with every breath I take.

“Doing what you want, right?” he questions, but there isn’t any doubt in the sounds that roll from him. He’s doing exactlywhathewants.

“I don’t want this,” I grit as panic pounds through my veins and seizes my heart in a vise grip. “Let me fucking go!”

I manage to turn, or maybe he’s letting me. The lines are blurring and so is the grip on my own choices.

“I tried to be nice. I was always nice, Hope, and then these three come and just grabbed you,” he starts, and with his right hand he tries to tuck my pants down, but my thighs remain strained together, not wanting him to have even an inch.

“They don’t just grab me,” I counter, but I know that isn’t completely true as I remember how it must have looked when Jaxon took me to Dimitri’s room.

“I’ve seen enough, Hope, to know what you want from me. I believe my own eyes before I trust what comes out of your mouth,” he grits and forces my legs open with his knee.

I whimper as my hips strain, trying to push back as best as I can, but I’ll never be a match for a man as strong as Jared.

Is this what my life is supposed to be? A life where men part my legs with force because they want to? But when I start dating and ask for it, they look at me like I’m crazy. So, does that mean that moments like this are all I get?

I clench my jaw shut as I don’t want to believe my own thought, don’t want to hide in the safety of my mind like I did with my father.

It should be my choice to do this when I want!

So, I slam my fists on his chest, I scream at the top of my lungs until there isn’t enough air inside me to make another sound. I push, I pull on his hair, ripping out a few strands and clawing his scalp hard enough to make my nails hurt.

But all it does is give him space as the strength on my hips and thighs weaken and he slots his leg between mine, rubbing it against my crotch while he rips my shirt open, revealing the carving on my skin.

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