Page 20 of Left In The Dark

“What are you doing?”

“Taking care of that for you.” He licks his lips and slides his other fingers under the waistband of my sweats, sweeping them over my cock before I pull his hand out and toss it away.

“I didn’t ask you to, did I? You can’t just do what you want whenever the fuck you feel like it, and you should really learn to keep your hands to yourself until someone gives you permission to touch them.”

“I . . . You were getting turned on by me,” he says pointedly. “So I thought it was implied . . . you know . . .”

“I wasn’t getting turned on by you.” I release my hold on him and he cups his wrist with his other hand. “It was an involuntary reaction. My cock got hard from the action alone. Had nothing to do with you.”

“You kept watching it. You couldn’t stop. That has to mean something. Surely, you could have exited the site and gone to someone else after I left.”

I slam a fist to my thigh, my jaw locking tight. “I told you. It has nothing to do with me wanting you. I saw you acting like a whore who had zero respect for himself and that’s what turned me on. What I liked seeing. You’re so desperate for attention. Always needing validation that you’re wanted and needed. Yet here you are, repeatedly throwing yourself at the guy you used to degrade. Used to treat as lesser than you. Used to talk down to. Someone you saw as beneath you.”

“I . . . I don’t think you’re beneath me.”

“No, because you think I’m sexy now, isn’t that right?” I stroke his cheek and he shivers.

“Yeah . . . or no . . .”

“Which is it?” I cock my head, running a thumb over the seam of his mouth. His tongue darts out a little, as if he’s eager to taste me. Maybe he should. But only when I want him to. On my fucking terms. I’ll use him the same way he uses those toys. Once he’s worn out and I grow bored, I’ll toss him out.

“Yes but . . . it’s not . . . we were kids before. People grow and change.”

“No, people like me grow and change. You, on the other hand, have and will always remain the exact same.” Unless someone gives him no choice. Someone like me. Smiling, I push my thumb between his lips, rubbing over his tongue.

He begins to suck, swirling his tongue around the thick digit, and I click my tongue, pulling my hand back. “I didn’t tell you to do that, did I?”

Mouth parting, he shakes his head. “No. I’m sorry. I can go now.”

I hold on to his knee when he tries to get up. “I didn’t tell you to do that either, but if you’re ready to leave, you can . . . unless . . . you really don’t want to.”

His gaze bounces between me and the door, and his feet stay cemented to the ground. “I don’t want to.”

Who knows, being told what to do by the right person might be what he’s needed all along. Someone other than Hayden. Someone who makes him think he actually has choices. Who’s to know if I really would have let him walk out that door? And am I really a bad person if I keep him here and away from hurting anyone else? If I keep him from being corrupted by a person worse than Hayden? Aren’t I just doing the world a favor by protecting others from somebody who’s so easily influenced by the bad company he keeps?

“I didn’t think so. You haven’t been of use to me yet, but you want to be, don’t you?” My eyes hold onto his, my voice deep and grounded.

His head slowly moves from side to side before turning into an unmistakable nod, and I click my tongue when he tries to reach for me again, blocking his hand. “What did I say? You don’t touch or come toward me unless I tell you to.”

“I’m sorry.” Shame spreads across his face and the corners of my lips turn up higher.

Oh, he needs this. To be put in his place. He thrives on order, doesn’t he? Hates himself for it too. Oh, the conflicted look in his eyes is delicious. I guess he was right about not liking himself after doing what others told him to do. He did it anyway, needing to because of what he lacked at home. Left to his own devices. To figure shit out for himself. Feeling overwhelmed by too many choices with no one to tell him which direction was the right way to go.

I can show him. No, I don’t want him like that, but I’d rather be the one corrupting that pretty head of his instead of allowing Hayden to. But like I said before, it doesn’t have to all be for selfish reasons.

He digs his nails into the bed, tucking his bottom lip inward. So, so lost. Yes, I’ll show him where to go, and he’ll love it so much he’ll keep coming back for more. Then, when he’s alone in bed at night, he’ll curse himself and everything around him for allowing a man who I’m sure he still thinks isn’t worth a damn to own him. He came here for a quick lay, to make me a dirty secret, and he’ll be leaving with my invisible shackles pulling him back to where I am.

“Tell me why you’re sitting there and not moving?” I ask, spreading my legs.

He eyes the bulge in my pants. “I’m waiting.”

“For what?” I lean into him, our mouths inches apart.

He sucks in a breath. “For you to tell me when I can move closer and touch you.”

All I hear is that he wants me to tell him. “That’s right,” I encourage.

“So, will you?” His eyes peer into mine.