Page 22 of Broken

My head blanks at that question.

I did what?

“What are you talking about? I didn’t send you a dick pic. I sent it to—”Oops.

Asher pulls out his phone as I start to tell him about my sexting with Aston, but stop when he shows me my own dick.

“That’s not my best angle.” I look at him over the top of the device, and I swear I can see Asher’s desire to strangle me in this moment.

“Why are you sending pictures of your dick to anyone? Have you learned nothing from a viral sex video?” Asher starts patting my pockets and pulls out my phone.

“Hey!” I object and try to get it back, but much like when we were children, he holds it out of my reach. “Give that back!”

“Has this dude signed an NDA?” Asher asks as he reads through my messages. Shame and embarrassment fight in my stomach and heat my face and neck. “And seriously, change your password. I got it on the first try.”

“Give me my phone!” I yell, my fists clenched at my sides. “You have no right to go through my stuff!”

Asher faces me once again, our chests pressed together and our eyes locked. “Who was your first?”

“My first what?” I cock a hip and square my shoulders. “Blow job? To give or receive? Dick pic? To send to or to get from? First boyfriend? First public fuck? You’re going to have to be more specific.”

Anger and something I can’t put my finger on flares in his eyes. For once, I’m getting under his skin. It doesn’t feel as good as I had hoped, but it’s better than the tears.

Asher leans in and speaks through gritted teeth. “Virginity. Who took your virginity?”

“Colin,” I say with as much menace as I can manage. Asher hated Colin from the day I met him at fifteen. His lip lifts, and he bares his teeth.

“You let that self-absorbed asshole touch you?”

I lift onto my toes, loving the shift of power in this moment. For once, he’s off-balance, not me.

“The video that went viral, Colin was the one fucking me.” It’s intoxicating watching the fury fill his eyes.Now you know a tiny sliver of what I’ve been feeling for years, you son of a bitch.I don’t know if I should be satisfied or feel bad for his obvious distress, but I’m not dwelling on it. He deserves to hurt too. He did this to us.

Asher shoves my phone into his pocket and lifts me over his shoulder, carrying me like a sack of potatoes.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” I beat on his back, the rum in my stomach threatening to make a reappearance. “What happened to my rum? I think I’m gonna be sick.”

At the path to the pier, Asher drops me to my feet and shoves my stuff at me, then pushes me to walk in front of him. “Get your ass back to the villa, or so help me, Elliot, I’ll tie you to the fucking bed.”

I huff and slide my phone into my pocket before heading toward the pier. I can’t get away from him, and I hate that I don’t really want to.

CHAPTERELEVEN

Asher

The image of Eli’s dick will be forever etched into my memory. I should delete the picture he clearly sent to me by accident, but I won’t. For years I’ve wondered about him, what he smells like, how he tastes, how he sounds when he comes. I’ll be jacking off to that picture later, I’m sure.

A big part of me hates that he was sending it to someone else. Some fucking hookup that probably doesn’t give a shit about him past using him to come. Shit is about to change, and he may not know it yet, and he may not like it, but that boy is mine. He’s always been mine, and he always fucking will be.

Even though he hates me.

I will find a way to make him see that me leaving was for the best. It hurt him, it was shitty, and I have a lot to make up for, but I can do it. I helped take care of him, held him when he had nightmares, when his parents’ lack of attention crushed his young heart, and I’ll help heal him now.

“Elliot.” Using his full name is such a foreign thing to me. The only time I’ve ever used it was when I was mad at him, and that didn’t happen often. In the villa, he spins around on me, cocking a hip and folding his arms across his chest like a shield. “Are you sober enough to remember this conversation?”

“I can handle my alcohol,” he bites out with more attitude than is necessary, using it as a weapon. Part of me has missed it. I loved the verbal sparring matches we used to get into. Watching his face heat with passion as we went back and forth in front of Marcus without him knowing what we were really doing set my blood on fire.

“I’m sorry.” My words hang in the tense space between us. “For everything.”