Page 45 of Rent: Paid in Full
Since he’s turned to face me and I’m already on my knees, I tilt my head back and part my lips, letting my tongue show.
“Mouth. Hands. Ass. Whatever you want, Ry. It’s yours,” I offer. He shakes his head without breaking eye contact. He looks crazed. Wild and unhinged. Eyes hooded. Balls swollen and dick so hard it looks almost purple. “You’re your own worst enemy, you know that?”
“Oh, please,” he says with a sharp twitch of his head. “You think I’ve never heard that before?”
I start laughing. Can’t help it. He tries so hard to hide. Not just physically. He tries to hide what he’s thinking and feeling too. I get it. He has trust issues, and I get how he got them. I don’t want it for him. It’s just that it’s weird because, for me, what he says and how he acts don’t line up at all with what I feel when I’m with him. It’s jarring and confusing and attractive as hell.
He turns and heads out of the bathroom, stepping unsteadily over the puddles I’ve made on the floor. By the time I’ve cleaned up, he’s gone.
It’s late when he gets back. Really late. After midnight. I’ve been waiting for him for hours. Wondering where he is and with whom. Wondering what he’s doing and despising the scenarios that run through my mind. Rightly or wrongly, I’m in a fury about it.
“Where’ve you been?” I demand.
“Nowhere.” For someone who’s been nowhere, he sounds really fucking happy about it.
“I’m going to fuck your ass soon,” I tell him to take the wind out of his sails. “You might not know it, but believe me, it’s going to happen.” I regret saying it like that almost as soon as the words leave my mouth.
“That right?” There’s an odd tone in his voice. Calm and removed, not like him at all. I honestly can’t tell if he believes me, and that inflames me so much it takes everything I have not to turn the lights on and rip the covers off him right now.
“Yeah. I’m going to. I’m going to fuck you real good. I’m going to split you open and fuck you so hard you never, ever forget the way my dick feels in your ass.”
He doesn’t answer.
When I wake up, I feel bad about what I said. I went too far. I’m losing my shit, but that’s no excuse to harass him. I don’t know what the fuck’s gotten into me, but I don’t like it. I need to get myself together.
“Sorry about last night,” I say as soon as he opens his eyes and blinks into the light.
He sits up, looking confused, and takes a minute to find focus and swipe the back of his hand against the corner of his mouth.
“What are you sorry about? Threatening to split my ass open or bringing my virtue into question?” he asks sarcastically.
It’s so hot hearing him talk like this that I lose my train of thought for a second.
“Both,” I say when I recover.
“It’s fine. It’s what I expect from you.”
That angers me more than waiting for him last night did.
He thinks this is who I am? He thinks I do this kind of thing all the time? He doesn’t have the first clue about who I am.
“You think I’m like this? You think this isnormalfor me?”
He bobs his head slowly. “Yeah. Absolutely. I think you’re exactly like this.”
“I’m not.” He laughs long and loudly, face creasing and looking so goddamn sexy and complicated and impossible that I hear myself saying, “No more blowjobs. No more money. No more of this shit.”
“Fine by me.”
16
Ryan
It’s been a very weird few days. I’ve been acting super weird. Weirder than usual, and I think we can all agree that’s cause for concern. I can’t seem to stop locking myself in the bathroom, pulling my pants down, and craning my neck to see the almost perfectly round mark on my ass. It started out red, the outline of a set of orthodontically perfect teeth clearly visible. Then it went purple. Now it’s blue with a little hint of yellow in the middle.
It’s fucking embarrassing, but I can’t stop doing it.
And since my pants are down and my junk is out, it seems only sensible to rub the fuck out of my dick, all the while closing my eyes as tightly as possible and trying—unsuccessfully—to block out all thoughts of what it felt like to have Miller’s tongue inside me.