Page 111 of The Boy I Loved
My throat tightened as I swallowed, my gaze pinned on his features. He was extremely good looking, and if he hadn’t been such a horrible person, maybe I’d be more into him. I was still sore from being with Tristan at the end of last week, which made my discomfort that much more prominent.
Mason braced himself on his forearms, using his hips to pound into me again and again. He wasn’t as ruthless in his assault as Tristan was, but he was more precise with every stroke. Pleasure swam within my abdomen, building and building until I was on the brink of exploding. The room was filled with my whimpers, his grunts, and our heavy breathing.
“That’s it,” he praised again. “Relax that pussy for me.”
Shame warred with the arousal I felt, making for a confusing combination. His ministrations slowed, his blue eyes alight withdesire as he peered into my own. I knew he was close; I could feel it in the way his body tensed, and his breathing deepened.
“Don’t cum in me, please,” I begged.
He scoffed in response. “I’m not fertile.”
That was news to me, and could also be a lie, but he had no reason to lie to me. It wasn’t like I could stop him if he truly wanted to do it.
Another groan rumbled through his chest and spilled from his lips. His body finally stilled, shaking as he released inside of me, filling me with his warm cum. I tried to fight the grimace, but it was no use. I was too weak to fight much of anything these days. He collapsed on top of me, his heaving chest pushing into mine as he worked to regulate his oxygen.
Once he’d calmed down enough, he rolled off of me and then made his way off the bed altogether. He scooped up my shirt and fucking used it to wipe his dick with it before he tossed it at me.
I flinched away from the fabric, my lip curling in disgust. Who the fuck did he think he was?
“Thanks for the fuck.” He smirked, snatching his boxers off the floor and tugging them up. “I’d give it a B minus. It was like fucking a doll. Maybe next time you’ll actually try.” He put his jeans on next and then his shoes.
My mind whirled as I processed what he’d said, confusion tumbling through me. Next time? Did that mean he wasn’t clearing me from another session? Before I could even think of asking anymore questions, he was turning on his heels and heading for the door.
I might just hate him the most right now.
Tristan was a close second. Hell, maybe they were even.
Blowing out an agitated breath, I pushed myself off the bed, gathered a new change of clothes, and headed for the bathroom. The cum was dripping from me excessively, sliding down my thighs, and making me feel sticky.
Sexual frustration tore through my system, but I knew it would fade. Mason hadn’t gotten me off, and part of that was my fault. It wasn’t like I was an active participant. Maybe that was a good thing, though. At least he couldn’t take that from me.
Pain shot through my stomach—tinypin pricks of a needle as it worked over my skin with persistence. I tried to open my mouth. For what? I wasn’t really sure. To scream maybe. But no sound would come out. I felt completely paralyzed and disoriented, caught on the brink of falling deeper into sleep and waking up altogether.
The pain only intensified though, making my decision easier. Slowly, I cracked my eyes open. Nothing was there at first, only shadows and spots dancing around my vision.
It took a few moments, but when my vision finally cleared, shock punched through my chest. A muffled cry fled my defenses as I squirmed on the bed. I couldn’t move. It felt like my body was pinned down, something sharp pressing against my wrists. Wiggling my fingers, a dull throb pulsed through each hand.
“Please,” I whimpered, my eyes filling with tears.
Tristan smoothed my hair back, a small smile tugging at his lips as another man sat in a chair beside him. I didn’t recognize the other man. He wasn’t old but wasn’t that young either—late thirties if I had to guess. There was a stitch of concentration between his brows, his back bowed forward as he continued the assault on my stomach. A loud buzzing filled the room, making me flinch away from it and the sound.
“This will help you,” Tristan stated. “No other man will touch you after this.”
My lower lip wobbled and a current of despair filled me. I couldn’t tell what was being tattooed onto my skin, just that it couldn’t be anything good. The pain was almost unbearable, like a thousand pricks of pain stabbing me over and over again followed by a wave of agonizing heat.
“We couldn’t get any numbing cream in time,” Tristan explained. “It was a last-minute decision.”
I couldn’t focus on what he was saying. My chest was rising and falling in rapid succession. I’d always wanted a tattoo, but on my own terms—something that was meaningful. My mind flashed back to that yellow butterfly I’d seen all those years ago. That was what I wanted. It was small, delicate, memorable, and sentimental to me.
“Don’t worry,” Tristan continued. “It’s almost done. You woke up sooner than I thought you would but…” He shrugged as if it didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.
I felt slightly disoriented, and my neck itched. Heat covered me from head to toe, like someone had cranked the heater to the highest setting.
The man continued to work, the pain still there. Funnily enough, I was growing accustomed to it. But the fear of what he was putting on my skin was still at the forefront of my mind. Struggling again, my thumb grazed the back of my shirt. My hands were bound, tugged behind me on the mattress. Whoever had tied them together—Tristan if I had to guess—did one hell of a job. My ankles were bound as well, preventing me from bending my knees the slightest amount.
“You seem confused,” Tristan continued on with an amused smile. “You went to bed early last night. I came to your room, shot you with a sedative, and we’ve been working all night.” He sounded infuriatingly proud of that fact, his eyes lighting up with excitement.
I blinked, trying my best to get rid of the tears filling my eyes, but it was no use. They tumbled over, sliding down the side of eachcheek. I couldn’t even wipe them away. Struggling against my bindings some more, a pained whimper fluttered past my lips.
