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The carpet met my knees as I slid off the couch. I moved the coffee table back. This wasn’t just for me. I could tell by Giancarlo’s rapid breathing and darting glances that I needed to do something for him. Sex was all I knew. I doubted he wanted to eat any food I made even though we’d now skipped breakfast and lunch.
Giancarlo grabbed my hands, and I wiggled them free.Please don’t get rid of me.
“What the fuck are you doing now?”
I stared at his clothed cock. “Giving you a blow job.”
He grabbed my wrists. “I’m not normally a man who turns down decent head, but what the fuck?”
“Let me do this.” I yanked against his hold, but there was little give, even with one of his hands bleeding.
“Stop, Ash. You just screamed at me about being passed around and used like that. Come on.”
I shook my head as I tugged at his pants. “I know that!”
Giancarlo grabbed my wrists more tightly. Blood raced down his hand, rolling over his arm. Shit, I was messing up even more.
“I’m sorry. I’ll get a towel.”
Giancarlo’s hold tightened, and I was forced to stay between his legs.
“What is going through your head?”
A lot of everything.How did I go about explaining the chaos that was in my brain? There were no right words or expressions to give him. A whimper fell, and Giancarlo brought our foreheads together. All I could see and smell was him. I latched on like it was a lifeline as my racing thoughts calmed.
“Kid, you’re scaring the fuck out of me, and that’s saying something. I’m most people’s nightmare.”
A laugh bubbled free out of me. I closed my mouth to stop it before it became full-on giggles.
“You saying I’m not terrifying?” Giancarlo asked. He cocked a brow as he pulled back a little.
“No, you are or were.” I shrugged. I had no idea when I stopped fearing him or if I ever really did. I feared the things he could do to me but not Giancarlo himself so much. I tugged on his pants again, and he groaned.
“Ash—”
“I only want to touch you. Yes, I’m afraid of being passed around or being sent to the brothel. But doing this stuff with you—” I stared at my hands, each word pulled from the deepest parts of my soul.
“What?”
The sound of the door shutting and high heels hitting the floor drew my attention. An African American woman with cotton candy pink curls walked in. She had on light makeup that highlighted her beauty. A butterfly jumpsuit hugged her curves. She was so pretty she could have easily been a model.
Is she here for Giancarlo?I knew he liked both women and men, but I never thought about him having a girlfriend.Is he cheating on her? Am I the side piece? Wait, side piece. I was bought in a damn auction house.
My head was a mess, and it was only getting worse the longer I kneeled there.
Fuck, I’m kneeling in between Gin’s legs. I scrambled back, but Giancarlo caught me and tugged me up.
“Hey, where are you going? We weren’t done talking.”
I looked at him and then at the supermodel.
Giancarlo sighed. “Doc, you couldn’t have waited five more minutes?”
She shook her head, the pink curls dancing around her face. “No way. Not after the call I got. I expected you to be sprawled out on the floor, bleeding to death. Again.”
Embarrassment made my cheeks hot, and I looked away from her. “Uh, sorry.”
I hadn’t cried in years. Once the dam had broken, it felt damn near impossible to quit. I was surprised I’d stopped at all. I was almost tempted to tell Giancarlo to threaten me or beat me like my father. I’d stop crying then.
