the button on his jeans. “I came down her throat.”
“That doesn’t matter. That’s biology. Someone sucks on your dick, you come.” I feel defensive for him. I hate that he thinks he asked for it.
His jaw ticks as he pushes his jeans down and off, leaving him naked as well as me. Both of us vulnerable and bare to one another. Soon I started waking up to her riding me, assuring me it was okay, that her husband didn’t care and she was on birth control so I could come inside her.”
I try not to vomit, thinking about this bitch acting like they were in a relationship when, in fact, she was a predator. She was supposed to protect him.
“I’m sorry, Rhys.”
“Don’t. Don’t do that.”
I shoot him a questioning glance. “Don’t do what?”
“Don’t pity me. I was fourteen. I could have told someone. I didn’t.”
“You were a kid. In their care.”
He walks to me, standing before me, this magnificent, gorgeous man. “Four months in, it wasn’t just us in my room.” My eyes widen, and he’s in a numb state again, looking right through me. “He would watch. And then beat the living shit out of me after I came. If she came too, he’d beat me more.”
I clutch my throat, my body reacting no matter how hard I try not to. I want to weep for him, but I keep the sobs at bay.
“Six months in, it wasn’t just her fucking me.”
I feel tears sting my eyes. “Rhys . . .” It’s a weak gasp.
“I thought he was just going to watch again.” His eyes close, and words can’t describe the pain radiating from him and going directly to my heart. “But he fucked me. For almost a full year. And I let them. I was small and weak from years of malnutrition and barely enough food to live when I lived with them, despite their wealth.”
His eyes open and scan my face as I struggle not to let the sobs wrack my body.
“They made it feel good, Blair. I came, every fucking time. My dick was hard for them.”
I shake my head from side to side. “That doesn’t mean you wanted it. And then he beat you. It’s all abuse, Rhys.”
He shrugs his large shoulder. His body bare, but for the first time, I don’t want to look anywhere except into his eyes.
“You didn’t deserve that.”
He laughs without an ounce of humor. “I was their fuckdoll. And when I was good, they bought me shit. Although they didn’t want to feed me much so I’d stay weak. I’d shove my face full at school and use their gym until finally, I added muscle.”
That’s why he works out so often, why he stays muscular. “That’s why you don’t like to be touched.”
“I’m fucked-up, Blair. Damaged. They made sex feel good when I didn’t want it, so I grew to despise sex. When I finally got big enough to fight back, I beat the shit out of Mr. Bradford and I threatened them both that if they came after me, I’d slit their throats in their sleep.”
Good.
“I ran, and they didn’t report it. I found a shitty apartment, and I tried my best to forget about them. I dated Quinn. I tried not to be a nervous wreck, but the first time I kissed her, I felt so fucking sick like I was going to puke that I numbed myself with anything I could get my hands on.”
“I don’t blame you for not wanting to remember.”
I go to him, keeping a small distance between our naked bodies. “So, you haven’t kissed anyone since?”
“Not that I remember. I had to be drugged or drunk out of my mind before I could get my dick to work. I barely remember any sexual experiences after that.”
I hate that he’s missed out on so many things because of what those sick motherfuckers did to him. “Rhys . . . you’re not damaged. They are.”
“I’m pretty fucking damaged, Blair.” He looks down at my body. “Look at you. You’re fucking beautiful, and when we have sex I rush as fast as I can to get off because I just want it to be over.”
The admission guts me even if I already knew that. “So, don’t.”
He looks at me, confused and angry. “Don’t?”
“Don’t rush. Don’t pull away from me. I’m not them.”
“It doesn’t fucking matter. I close my eyes, and I smell her fucking expensive, gag-inducing perfume. I feel his cock pressing into me.” I cry