Page 62 of Retrograde

“Just him.” He frowns. “Why?”

It takes every ounce of my will to stop my voice from shaking when I suggest, “Let’s do it in there. He’ll hate it. It’ll be fun.” Rob’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. “Besides, that way no one can accuse you of abandoning your post,” I add practically.

“I don’t know.” He blushes deeper, rubbing the top of his head. “I don’t know if I like having an audience.”

Oh, look, a fully formed sentence!

“Only one way to find out.” I give him a fake but radiant smile. “I know I like it a lot,” I lie. “Besides, he doesn’t matter, does he? It’s not like he can tell anyone.”

He grunts in lieu of a verbal approval and gets up. The wooden door creaks as he holds it open for me, and that simple, gentlemanly gesture twists my heart with guilt.

It has to be done. There’s no other way.

You’re doing it for Corrado. You’d do anything for Corrado. Even this.

Panic constricts my chest as I step inside. The light comes on with the click of a switch, and Rob shuts the door behind us.

And there he is. My soul nearly leaves my body when I see him. There are three empty stalls on each side of the narrow, unevenly paved corridor. I can see him through the metal bars, chained to the rough brick wall.

The sight of him is devastating. He is shirtless, and his smooth, inked skin stretches tautly over the tight ropes and bulging mounds of his muscles. He’s lean, the bulk of him wide and imposing, but not heavy. He looks fast, ferocious, and completely lethal, like a weapon in human form, like someone born to pounce and kill. I swallow heavily when his eyes lock with mine.

“Well, well, well ...” Aron croons. “How the tables have⁠—”

I shake my head imperceptibly, mouthing a simple “don’t”.

He blinks hard but shows no surprise otherwise.

“What the fuck is this then?” he demands and then sneers when neither Rob nor I answer him.

I walk into a stall adjacent to his, standing so close to him that he could grab me through the bars if the chain wasn’t keeping him at a safe distance. He balls his fists, biting his lower lip. This close to him, I notice fresh cuts and bruises all over his bare torso. I can also see that he’s pale and covered with a sheen of sweat.

“Not nice being in a cage, is it?” I whisper quietly so Rob won’t hear me. “Now you know what it’s like.”

His lips ripple with a smile, amused lines appearing around his eyes. He holds my gaze, and the effect on me is as powerful as it is shocking. My knees turn to jelly, and there are flutters low in my stomach. I hold on to the bars for support with my left hand, keeping the right wrapped around my abdomen, holding the sleeve’s edge with my fingers.

“Hey, I’m not sure about this ...” Rob’s footsteps thud behind me, his tone flustered. “Can’t we at least go ... further away from him?”

“What?” Aron’s face falls.

“No, I like it here. Come on.” And then, with a venomous smile intended for Aron, I add, “I’m so fucking hot for it.”

Everything I said before sounded like a lie, so awkward I was shocked Rob didn’t detect my deceit—and that says a lot. But when I taunt Aron, it sounds completely real.

“No,” Aron grits through his clenched teeth. “Fuck no.”

“Errr ... how do you want to do it?” Rob asks uncertainly, loitering behind me and breathing loudly.

He’s clearly oblivious to the murder in Aron’s glare, because otherwise he wouldn’t do anything but run. On an instinctive level, I want to run too. The only difference is ... there’s a part of me that wants to be caught.

“Stand behind me,” I instruct Rob in a breathless voice. “Choke me with one hand. Play with my clit with the other. That’ll get me nice and wet and ready for you.”

Rob chuckles nervously like he still can’t believe his good luck. Aron’s face turns bone-white, and his eyes darken with rage until they’re like bottomless pits.

Rob steps close enough for his body’s heat to envelop me, his breathing quick and excited. Aron lunges forward in a feral, demented motion, straining against the chains until they creak.

“NO! DON’T YOU DARE⁠—”

“Not too tight, baby?” Rob asks, wrapping his fingers around my throat so gently that I can barely feel them.