Trey - Shandi Boyes Page 0,77

tell her to tilt her head to the side and stay still. “I don’t even want to see you breathing.”

“Okay,” Saige breathes out slowly before straining her eyes to peer at me standing over her, lost on where to go next.

“Don’t look at me. Face your eyes to the wall.”

I wait for her to do as told before dumping my cap, shirt, and jeans onto the floor. Once my boxer shorts join them, I tug at my dick, begging for it to get with the program. He’s not even at half his strength, not that Saige seems to mine. She licks her lips while staring at the piercings down the shaft like they were put there for her pleasure.

“I said to look at the wall.” I slap her thigh hard enough for her to yelp before crawling up her body, praying like fuck my cock will sniff out the needs of her greedy cunt and stand to attention.

When the heaviness of my dick rests on the aching bud between her legs, Saige moans, and something inside me snaps. “I said to shut the fuck up! God, what is it with you women not knowing how to keep your mouth fucking shut? It isn’t hard to follow directions, is it!”

I flop onto my back before throwing an arm over my eyes. The throbbing of my brain against my temples is brutal, but it’s the silence it fails to arrive with that’s driving me mad.

Instead of taking the hint that I’m not interested, Saige positions herself onto her knees before she gathers up my cock in her hands. Yes, I said hands. Even in my pissy mood, I’m not ashamed to admit she’ll need more than two hands to handle me.

When her lips hover an inch above the crest of my cock, I growl out a set of words I never thought I’d say, “If an inch of my cock gets in your mouth, I’ll fucking kill you where you kneel.”

With menace being the highest of all the emotions in my voice, Saige’s backside sinks back until it’s resting on the balls of her feet, and my cock slips from her grasp. “Then what do you want me to do—”

“Get out.” When she remains frozen on my mattress, unblinking and mute as I wanted her to be only moments ago, I scream again, “Get out!”

After scurrying off the bed, I grab Saige’s wet bikini bottoms from the floor of my bathroom, her grubby nightie from the foot of my bed, and her arm before forcefully marching her to the door. Once she and her belongings are deposited in the corridor, I slam the door shut, grip the sprouts of blond hair peeking out the top of my head, and scream like I’ve never screamed before.

It’s a silent, gut-wrenching scream that sends my heart’s racing beats to my ears as quickly as my brain thumps my temples. When it does little to ease my agitation, I shift my focus to my room. This place was once my sanctuary, the only place I ran to when I was lost.

Now it feels empty, cold, and silent.

So very fucking silent.

After upending my bed, a drawer full of clothes, smashing my television into the wall, and taking a knife to my mattress, I shift my focus to my headboard and bedside tables.

They’re destroyed in a nanosecond, leaving me nothing left to ruin.

While running a hand over scars that will never be hidden, I crouch down to suck in some big breaths. I’m spiraling so hard if I don’t take a moment to breathe, I’ll destroy more than replaceable furniture.

I wasn’t like this at the hospital. I felt cooped up and caged, but normal.

Well, as normal as a man raised in this lifestyle can be.

I don’t know how long I stay crouched for. It isn’t long enough to dispel the rage tearing me in two, but long enough for Eight to think it’s safe to come in. He fetches up the nightgown Saige left outside my door, dumps it into the laundry basket in my bathroom, then commences straightening out my room.

Although my first thought is to help him, something navigates me to my untouched bathroom instead. I remove the stained nightie from the laundry basket, raise it to my nose, and suck in a lung-filling breath for the first time in months.

“Who is she?” I ask Eight after pulling down the grubby sleepwear from my face and storing it into the drawer he just righted. “Who is