“Don’t want me what?” Kingsley asked.
“I don’t want to embarrass you,” S?ren said, and Kings
ley laughed out loud at the abject absurdity of that statement. “You don’t want to embarrass me? An hour ago, you
stripped me naked, told me to get on my knees and confess
to you the most shameful sexual fantasies I’ve ever had in my
life, and you say you don’t want to embarrass me?” “That’s different. Who we are in private has nothing to do
with who we have to be out there. Do you want people to
know what you are?”
“Your lover?”
“Not that.”
Kingsley thought about the question. Alone with S?ren
he became a slave, a slut, a groveling nobody who submitted
to sexual torture and said thank you for the privilege. Having sex with another boy didn’t embarrass him. It was everything else that did.
“Non, it’s true. I don’t want people to know I like being
hurt. They wouldn’t understand it, and they wouldn’t understand you. They’d think you were a monster.”
“I am a monster,” S?ren said as he bit the center of Kingsley’s back.
“Yes, but no one knows that but me. It’s our secret. But…”
He sighed heavily and pressed his back against S?ren’s chest.
“I’m afraid they’ll find out soon enough anyway.” “And why is that?” S?ren demanded.
“Well, you see…” He braced himself for S?ren’s wrath.
“I’m pregnant.”
Kingsley bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing as S?ren
sighed so heavily with disgust the cot vibrated. Then Kingsley felt something in his back, something that felt like a foot. That foot pushed, and Kingsley landed hard on the f loor
right on his ass.
“Oh, no,” he said as he hit the hardwood beneath him with
bruising force. “I lost the baby.”
When he looked up over the edge of the mattress, he found
S?ren’s face buried in the pillow. He’d never seen S?ren
brought to tears by laughter.
“Don’t cry,” Kingsley said, rubbing S?ren’s heaving shoulder. “We’ll try again.”
Kingsley couldn’t hold off coming anymore. Surely enough
time would have passed by now. He came inside Phoebe with
such force he grunted in near discomfort.
He pulled out of her and grabbed her robe from the f loor
to wipe himself off.
“Hey, that robe cost a thousand dollars,” she said as she
stretched out on the bed, naked and happy. One hand teased
her own nipples while another slipped between her legs. His
semen dripped out of her, leaving a wet stain under her hips.
If she didn’t care about the silk sheets, he knew she didn’t actually care about the robe.
“Now it’s a thousand-dollar cum-rag.” He tossed it back
on the f loor as he zipped himself up.
“You’re terr ible.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, and she lazily sat up. “I hope
that was to your liking.”
“I like that you laughed.”
He grabbed the gun and shoved it in the waistband of his
pants again.
“What?”
“I said…” She left the bed and came to him, putting her
arms around his neck. “I liked that you laughed while you
were fucking me. It made it feel dirtier, like you really were
some psycho maniac raping me.” She grinned up at him. He
should have found her attractive, this thin, graceful beauty
who looked twenty-five but had probably said hello and goodbye to thirty-five a long time ago. Once upon a time he found
her attractive, but today she repulsed him. He wanted to take
her arms off him, but it wouldn’t do to upset her. He needed
her. More accurately, he needed her husband. Robert Dixon
was working his way up. He’d be mayor someday if he continued on his current career trajectory. Kingsley would love
to have a mayor in his pocket.
So he smiled at her, played nice and let her kiss him. “I laughed because I was remembering something.” “What were you remembering?”
“I don’t remember,” he lied.