Page 125 of Embriagado

“You really don’t eat much, huh?” He took another bite. “No wonder you’re so thin.”

“I beg your pardon?”

With one hand still holding his burger that was the size of my head, he pointed at me. “I’m saying you need to bulk up.”

“I’m the perfect body weight for my height and age, thank you very much.”

“All I’m saying is one burger won’t kill you.” He winked, and I resisted the urge to stab him with my knife.

“Again, swallow before you speak.”

“That’s what she said.”

How childish.

Chuckling at his own joke, the idiot went back to his food, and as he did, I stole another glance at him. His handsome face wasn’t too damaged in the fight, but he still got some bruises, including the one I’d given him yesterday. Those stitches under his brow were a real shame, and I was sure tomorrow he’d have a black eye. It would be a problem if he showed up at the hotel with such a face, but I could always apply some makeup to his bruises before his shift started. Hold on a second—did I just think he was handsome? I tensed at the thought before shrugging it off. Denying he was good-looking would be a waste of breath, as he clearly was a catch, as some would say. Tall, fit, with unique-colored eyes and a good smile—when it came to looks, Mr. Rivas sure had it all. What a shame he was just another horndog. But then again, if that were the case, why did he choose a meal over me?

Placing my elbow on the table, I leaned forward, knuckles resting against my jaw as I examined him.

Since we’d met, all this moron had wanted was to fuck me. It worked well for my plans, as I used his basic urges to my benefit. That was, until he came up with this bizarre agreement. At first, sleeping with him in exchange for a win sounded simple enough. For starters, I knew it would motivate him even further than his already primal instinct to devour. Moreover, paying him through sex would save me money, meaning I’d reach my goal much faster. In fact, as unappealing as the idea of having him fuck me was, I believed I had the upper hand until I found myself in bed with him on top, and I just… froze. My mind was set on doing whatever needed to be done to pay my debt, but when it came down to it, my body didn’t align with it.

I’d probably slept with dozens, if not hundreds, of people against my will, so what happened tonight? I was sure it would be as quick and unpleasant as ripping off a bandage, but as I got on my knees in front of him and remembered the pain of having a cock forcefully shoved down my throat, I flinched. I thought it was too subtle to notice, but— I narrowed my eyes at him just as he sipped from his Coke, utterly oblivious to what was going on around him.

He noticed it.

This clueless idiot, who missed just about everything, not only noticed this slight reaction, but he stopped me immediately after.

Yes, I might have fucked hundreds of men in my life, but never before had one of them stopped on my behalf. I’d bled, puked, urinated on myself, cried, and passed out more times than I could count, but none of it ever stopped a man from taking what he wanted, until him.

It made no sense.

He was the same as the rest of them. A repulsive pig who just wanted to get his dick wet, no matter the consequences.

“Can I ask you something?”

Snapped out of my thoughts and not at all interested in whatever small talk he planned on, I tsked.

“Depends on the question.”

“What happened to you after that night?”

“What night?” I narrowed my eyes at him.

He ruffled his hair, and I noticed he always did that whenever he got nervous or embarrassed.

“I’m talking about the night I beat you up…”

I leaned back in my chair. “And why do you care?”

“I just do.”

Something about his dumb expression annoyed me. Probably because it wasn’t at all dumb, but genuine. Staring at me with those moonlight eyes of his, he looked like some eager puppy, and I caved in.

“I suffered a broken jaw, a broken eye socket, and several other fractures in my face, in addition to three broken ribs and a fractured wrist. I was disabled for six months after that, but thankfully had good plastic surgeons. Still, to this day, my jaw hurts whenever I smile.” Which happens to be a lot.

“So your scar… Did I cause it?”

My… scar?