Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
But then his fingers dug into the muscles of my shoulders, and he started to massage me harder, more intensely. “Oh God. That feels good,” I found myself saying instead of questioning him. It felt like he was taking care of me, rewarding me. I shouldn’t want that. I didn’t but it was okay to enjoy it in this one moment, wasn’t it?
“You helped win a case today. That was very good, Jared. And you got everything from my list and made us such a good dinner. You deserve a treat.”
I dropped my head forward and I let him massage me, let his fingers dig into me. Already, the tension in my muscles started to melt away. Some of the fuzz in my head began to soften and clear. It was almost like I wasn’t Jared anymore. Wasn’t the guy who’d been overwhelmed earlier, but I didn’t know who I was, either.
“We’re friends, right?” Kieran asked.
“Yes.” This felt so good, I would be anything to him in this moment if he just continued touching me. Caring for me.
“Then I’m going to tell you something and I want you to trust me, okay. Don’t move. Don’t argue. Just listen.”
“I’ll listen to anything you want if you keep doing that.” Jesus, I could probably come, this felt so good.
“That’s what I want to talk to you about. I think you’ll do whatever I say even if I stopped. I think you need it.”
My heart damn near exploded as the videos slammed into my brain. No. No, no, no, no. “What—”
“Shh. Just listen. It can become too much, can’t it? Life. All the choices and decisions and always knowing what to do?”
It could. God, it fucking could. That was normal. Everyone had to feel that way sometimes. No one had a completely easy life. “No shit…sometimes I wish I could just unplug from it all,” I admitted what felt like a perfectly normal reaction.
I groaned when he dug his thumbs into my shoulders more. My body was putty in his hands.
“Tell me what it feels like.”
The way he said it, my brain rejected the notion of not doing exactly what he said. There wasn’t even a small part of me who wanted to deny him. “It’s overwhelming. My head spins. Sometimes it’s like there’s too much noise in it, too much to focus on. My pulse goes crazy. I feel…alone. Like I’m not tethered to the earth.” Had I truly just admitted that to him? I squeezed my eyes shut as though it could hide the shame.
“What else, Jared? I know that’s not it. I want you to tell me more. You can be good and tell me more, right?”
“No.” I shook my head. What I felt wasn’t his business and I knew I could handle myself. I’d been doing it my whole life.
“Yes, you can. It’ll help and I think you know that.”
Deep down inside of me, I did know it. I wanted to tell him more. I wanted to be good for him, because even the thought soothed the aches inside of me. “Sometimes I just shut down. It’s easier to do nothing than to do something. Then I feel guilty for it. For skirting my responsibilities.”
“You’re doing so well, Jared. You’re being such a good boy telling me this. You like it when I give you things to do for me, don’t you? When you know exactly what you’re supposed to do, what your responsibilities are. Exactly where your place is.”
“Yesssss.” Oh God! It was true. I liked it when he told me to cook for him or told me what to purchase at the store. When he told me when to come over. It had somehow, grounded me—the schedule and the rules. “What’s wrong with me? That’s not normal. I—”
His hands closed tighter on my shoulders when I tried to pull away. It wasn’t painful, and I didn’t think he would truly hold me against my will but he was letting me know he didn’t want me to move. “I’m not done. I didn’t ask you to move yet, did I? And there’s nothing wrong with you. Sometimes it is too much and that’s okay. Sometimes you need responsibilities and rules so you feel secure, right? Am I right, Jared?”
He continued to say my name as if he wanted me to know he saw me, as if he was trying to get personal with me. “Yes,” I admitted it, even though I tried to hold back the truth. He was right. How did he know these things when I hadn’t even admitted them to myself? These things that were quiet whispers in the back of my mind.
“It makes you feel like you’re being taken care of, doesn’t it? Like someone cares about you enough to give you those responsibilities.”
It took me a moment to realize I was crying. That tears were streaming down my face and falling to my thighs, just as I’d cried with the porn the last time.