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“Of course, sunshine,” I mouth against his lips, never resting them there permanently the way I want, but only enough that I can pretend to have the life breathed back into me. “Anything you want.”
“How did it go at the gym?” he asks as I start up the stovetop.
I only wince a little at the lie. It’s just that I don’t want him to worry. I also don’t want him to question why I sometimes feel the need to beat someone to a pulp every month, particularly more often if one of his boyfriends is hanging around. “Yeah, it was good.”
He kicks out his legs adorably, watching and not offering to help me as I grab the chicken from the fridge. “So, I’m trying that new dating app I told you about.”
The damn chicken nearly slips from my grip. I turn my back on him and my fingers tremble as I unwrap the chicken and run it under cold water. “That’s great.”
“And I bought that pretty new lace piece I saw online. You know the one, right? You said the color matched one of my eyes.”
Oh, I knowexactlywhich piece he’s talking about. It’s the one he showed me after storming into my bedroom at five in the morning because he was too excited to wait. It was ridiculously expensive, but we live frugally with steady jobs, and he said he was obsessed with it. That same two-piece lingerie set withfucking thigh-high stockings and a garter that I jerked off to minutes after he left, just picturing what he would look like in it.
“Awesome.”
I let him go on and on about the hits he’s gotten on the dating app and the wonderful qualities of all these men who are a literal recipe for getting past the Pearly Gates. I keep my mouth shut, though, because I don’t think anything I could say would be remotely pleasant. Fuck me, I just fought, but I’m itching to go back into the ring again.
When I’m done cooking, I bring him and the food over to our rickety excuse for a dining room table. Instead of sitting opposite me, he plops down on my lap, still talking a mile a minute, and I wonder how he manages to inhale what I cooked for him. All the while, I think about how perfect this is. How domestic. It’s just the two of us, happy together, and I wonder why it can’t be anything more. But the thing is, I do know why.
I’m a fucking coward.
Once he’s done eating, I pat his hip to let him know to hop off my lap. “Want to watch a movie?”
Right on cue, he yawns cutely, stretching his arms over his head, nearly exposing his fucking perfect little cock. “I might fall asleep.”
Again, I can’t help it. Basically throwing the dishes into the sink, not caring that they clatter as if they’ll break, I seize him. I tug him against me, where he hums happily against my chest, purring as I stroke his hair with one hand and grab his ass with the other.
“If you fall asleep, I’ll carry you to bed,” I whisper, kissing his forehead.
“Okay,” he mumbles and hugs me tighter. “Can I also get a foot rub?”
I chuckle against the top of his head, kneading one ass cheek. “Yes, Skylar. I’ll give you a foot rub.”
He perches his chin on my chest, gazing at me in a way someone might call adoring, and smiles. “Thank you, Cass. You’re the best.”
I almost grimace. The best but not the only one. Nottheone. Not the person he wants to share his life with. Not the man he’ll call his lover forever.
I’m the person he’ll curl his body around at night sometimes when he’s feeling lonely, never noticing the tears pooling in my eyes when he gets up. I’m the one who’s there for every wayward thought, awkward selfie, and dumb-ass reel. I’m the one who compliments him, loves him, cries over him.
He takes from me and takes from me until I’m stripped bare, and I come back every time for more.
Forever and always.
CHAPTER THREE
Cassius
I’m always so hardit hurts.
As I set up my equipment for the night, my eyes keep wandering over to Skylar. I don’t know where the fuck he got his outfit, but I thank all the gods that exist that he did. He’s perfectly edible with his skimpy, sparkly crop top and mini shorts. He skips off toward the exit, probably to bother Butch, and I drool at the sight of his cute little ass wagging. Sure, I’m always watching Skylar, but sometimes it leaves me like…this—horny and weak—for hours. I know he doesn’t try to tempt me on purpose, but what does he expect when he looks like utter perfection?
And like a love-struck horny fool, I can’t get enough.
I groan as I adjust myself, trying to think of the nastiest things to get rid of this hard-on, but nothing works. Now, my mind is wandering. I picture showering with him again, but only with a different ending. I imagine taking his small wet hips in my hands and fucking into him until he cries. Railing him so brutally, releasing every ounce of my frustration on his perfect body. Pulling that purple hair back until he begs me to stop, even though we both know he’d enjoy the fuck out of it. Somethingrough and animalistic—feral—and oh-so-sinful. A contrast to his beautiful delicateness?—
“Can you stop that, please? You’re kind of turning me on.”
My head whips up when I finally notice Elton standing in front of the stage. I don’t know how long he’s been there, but with the way his eyes are zeroed in on my crotch, it must have been long enough.
