Page 15 of Brutal

Right. Gentle.

I feel a small twinge of pain, then Hunter says, “I hope you used condoms. I’m not treating you for STIs.”

“Uh.” Brutal sounds slightly chagrined, but he goes on, “It’s not too risky, right? I mean, it was just her ass. I won’t fuck her pussy without a condom.”

There’s an exasperated sigh from Hunter. “Drake, do you really believe you can’t catch an infection with anal sex?”

Brutal hesitates. “Um, well… I mean… Elena said she was clean, all right?”

I can’t help it. I snort in derision, because even in high school, I knew about that—and that had been with me having no interest in sex with any classmates.

There’s a slap to the inside of my thigh. “Okay, I’ll be more careful. Jesus Christ. I’m not paying you for the judgment here.”

“You’re not paying me at all,” Hunter says. He stands up, and sighs. “Don’t do anything stupid, Drake. Like…”

I finally look at them. Hunter is staring directly at Brutal, who stares right back in outright defiance.

“Like what?” Brutal finally asks.

Hunter purses his lips. “Like your little habit. You’re done with it, right?”

Habit? What habit?

“Of course I’m done with it,” Brutal says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I got tired of your lectures and stopped.”

Even I can tell that Hunter doesn’t believe Brutal, but he doesn’t press the issue. Instead, he packs up his things and hefts his bag. “She does have an IUD, like Giulio promised. That is not an invitation to fuck her without a condom. I’ll get everything tested and send you the results.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Brutal says. “Thanks for the help.” He turns to me. “You stay put,” he tells me. “Just like that.” Then he turns, escorting Hunter through the door and leaving me to wonder just what kind of habit they’re talking about. It has to be something about the pills.

I stay as I am, with my legs spread wide, just as he’d ordered. There’s no point in antagonizing him by disobeying something so simple.

The old me would have been eager to cover up.

Who the fuck am I anymore?

The smug look on his face when he returns almost has me wishing I’d moved because it’s so obnoxious. Everything about him is smarmy and irritating… but if I play my cards right, maybe things won’t be so bad here.

“Good girl,” he praises me, like I’m some house pet. “I like you like that.” He steps in close, running his fingers between my thighs, right over my clit.

At least he knows where it is. Most of the men I’d serviced over the past few months either had no clue or gave zero fucks. Probably both.

I keep my breathing steady as he massages my clit, and I consider just letting all this happen. He’ll use me, pump into me with or without condoms, then put me back into the cage.

I look him in the eyes. He smirks at me, rubbing my clit even harder, and I wonder if he’s ever made a woman come by touching her in his life. “You like that?”

“What habit?” I ask, not letting any emotion enter my voice.

His hand freezes, and he narrows his eyes at me. “What?”

The harshness of his voice should probably be enough to make me back down, but my voice remains steady as I repeat, “What habit?”

Brutal scowls, pulling back. “None of your fucking business, Mimi.”

“Drugs of some sort,” I say confidently. “Pills that you hide all over your house. And your office?”

I’d known several people at college—often the finance majors—who took Adderall semi-recreationally. It helped them focus, it made them great at studying, or whatever other excuse they gave as to why they should be exempt from all the drug regulations.

It could be a harder drug, too, the stuff that’s supposedly popular with all the fortune 500 types.