Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 103637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Putting his hair in order was like meditation. But he was eventually done arranging it into twin braids and left the grooming room, at a loss. He could go home and enjoy some free time, but after the abduction attempt the short walk back to the clubhouse felt unsafe. What if Luke came for him in person this time? Drove by and pulled Arden into the car, without Mike being there to save him or anyone to witness the abduction?
Arden hated how jumpy he’d become. As if that one night, that one time Luke had crossed his boundaries changed everything about his personality. Not that long ago, he used to be confident, outgoing, and never feared to walk around Reno at night, even though in hindsight, that had been reckless. Luke hadn’t just hurt him physically. He’d broken Arden’s trust, taken away his sense of safety, and that was what Arden hated him for most. He’d always believed that if he didn’t like something his partner did, all he needed to do was tell him. It had always worked before. Even with Luke.
Until it didn’t.
They’d had sex countless times before, so why had Luke not been able to wait for that fuck he craved? Why didn’t he want to enjoy something else that Arden was willing to give? Why had Luke chosen to force... to rape him as if Arden were a dog who needed to perform the desired tricks no matter what?
Arden had thought about that terrible night too many times to count, and the conclusion he came to was that Luke had never truly cared for him. That for him Arden had always been only an object to satisfy sexual desire. Not a partner. Never a lover or a friend. Maybe not even a person.
Arden did have feelings for Luke, feelings that had been torn to shreds within the fifteen minutes between the moment Arden had realized Luke wouldn’t take no for an answer and Arden smashing a lamp on his head once he was free. Luke had been his man, and that had entitled him to respect and warm feelings, not sex on demand. Yet no matter how many times Arden raged about those painful moments, he was still left with a sense of loss.
He’d been hypersexual from an early age. He’d had boyfriends, watched porn, and hung out with strippers. His drawing hobby expressed his obsession with dicks, sex, and people entwining their bodies in filthy ways. He’d identified as slutty as if it were a badge of honor, and even now, despite all the anguish he’d been through, his libido was as alive as ever, which was more frustrating and confusing than losing interest in sex would have been.
The itch was always there, but he was now afraid to scratch it. Luke had hurt him only once, but the waves of that pain kept hitting him again and again, as if trying to wash away his identity. He was the same boy he was two months ago, yet at the same time he wasn’t.
There was a waiting area at the main entrance into the gym, which must have been renovated not that long ago. The walls and carpet were a pleasant grassy shade, and the gray reception desk added to the serene atmosphere. Arden passed a vending machine selling sports drinks and protein bars and took one more glance at the sun-parched road outside, deciding to wait for Mike after all… which made him walk up to the swing doors to the main gym and peek through the glass partition to find out if he was even still there.
Mike had been exceptionally easy to spot, since it was the middle of the day and most regulars were at work. His chest looked so buff under the tank top, and as if that wasn’t impressive enough, he was doing bicep curls with a huge dumbbell.
And Arden wasn’t the only one staring. A team of three young women exercised on treadmills, which had been strategically placed in front of the free weights section, and each of them seemed more focused on the hot beefcake than with their own training.
Mike wasn’t leaving anytime soon.
Arden was done with exercise. His pastel hair was groomed into lovely braids, he’d put on some basic makeup and looked way too cute to spoil it with sweat. He sank into a gray chair across from the reception desk and opened his sketchbook, intent on spilling his filthiest fantasies on the paper. He might not get the real thing, but this would be good enough for now. Masturbation via art.
He’d start with Mike’s dick, because it had low-key been on his mind constantly since the shower. Hell, he could just go for it and draw that fantasy of Mike pinning a boy—okay, him—to the tiles.