Page 20 of Good Boy

"Look at me," Weston ordered, and I obeyed, gazing up at him through a haze of tears. His eyes bored into mine, dark and demanding. "You're mine, understand? No one else gets to have you. No one else but me."

He twisted his fingers in my hair as he buried himself in my throat. "That's it, take it. Take it all, you little cock slut."

His thrusts grew erratic and his filthy praise sent heat pooling in my groin. I was so hard it almost hurt, but I didn't move to touch myself. Within seconds, warmth flooded my mouth as he came with a deep-seated growl. I swallowed desperately, not wanting to miss a single drop, and locked my gaze with his. He ran his fingers through my wet hair and pulled my lips away as he tugged. A beat of silence followed, our bodies coming down from the high as the stream of water pounded on the shower floor.

My mouth was full of the bitter, salty taste of his cum. I swallowed reflexively, shuddering at the intimacy of it, this final claiming.

Weston stroked my hair, his touch deceptively gentle. "Good boy," he murmured. "My perfect little slut."

He bent down and kissed me. It was gentle, a stark contrast to the way he’d just taken me. He kissed me like I was something precious and fragile, something special that belonged to only him.

Lies. All lies.

He withdrew, leaving me bereft. I stayed where I was, dazed and aching, as the shower turned off. The tile was cold against my heated skin.

Weston emerged, toweling off casually. Our eyes met, and for a moment something flickered in his gaze. Regret? Guilt? It was gone in an instant, replaced by cool indifference.

"Not bad for your first time."

"First time? I've been swinging and sucking dick since I was seventeen,"I said as I moved across the room, leaving tiny puddles in my wake.

His lips tipped into a smirk. "I know, but this is the first time you sucked your uncle’s cock."

"And the last," I deadpanned.

"Oh, come now, don't act shy. You were desperate for it." He cupped my chin. “Admit it. You loved having your mouth stuffed full of my cock."

"Maybe.”

"Maybe, what?"

"Maybe I liked it." The words were torn from me. Utterly humiliating, and undeniably true.

Weston pulled a slow smile across his lips. "Good."

He left without another word, and I was alone with the ruin he'd made of me. I should have felt disgust, horror at what had just happened. Instead, there was only a bone-deep satisfaction and a craving for more. I hated that I liked it. That I liked to be touched by my own flesh and blood, but fuck, it felt so good. A different type of good. No matter how hard I fought, I knew I was his to use and discard as he pleased, and I didn't want it any other way.

* * *

The next morning, I dressed in the suit Weston had picked out for me, sliding the expensive fabric over my skin. I hated suits, always have—they represented everything I despised about my family and the world I'd grown up in.

But this was different. As I straightened the tie and looked at my reflection, I couldn't deny the weird thrill that went through me. Because I knew how it would make Weston look at me.

Like I was his. Like I belonged to him. Damn, I was fucked.

I found Weston in the kitchen, standing at the center island with a spread of food in front of him. Fresh fruit, oatmeal, pastries—more than either of us would eat in a week. But excess was the Ashbourne way of life.

He was dressed in another dark suit that accentuated the lean muscle of his physique. I stared at him, heat stirring in my gut as I remembered the sight of him in the shower last night, expensive clothes plastered to his body while the water streamed down. Displaying the hard lines of his abs, the veins that corded his arms—

"Enjoying the view?"

I blinked, meeting Weston's gaze to find him watching me with a raised brow and his lips tipped up at one side.

"Just thinking I should return the favor," I said, stepping closer. "Since you got quite the view last night."

"Is that so?" His smirk widened, but his eyes flashed with heat. He reached out to straighten my tie, smoothing the fabric down my chest in a slow caress. "Perhaps if you're good today, I'll give you another opportunity to put that pretty mouth of yours to good use."

A shiver ran down my spine at the promise in his tone. I wet my lips, watching as Weston's gaze dropped to follow the movement. Cynthia heels grazed the floor as she rounded the corner to the kitchen. She dressed just as I expected her to—in dark pants, paired with a cream-colored blouse and open-back sling heels. The look screamed money. Neither one of them could leave the confines of their home without letting the world know who they were.