Page 32 of Explosive Prejudice

“Yeah,” he said, as if giving me lingerie was as normal as me giving him a slice of vegan cake.

“W-why?” I couldn’t hide the surprise in my voice.

“Well.” He got up and moved to stand before me. “I had a shitty day today.”

“Oh?”

“An incredibly shitty day.” He offered me his hand, which I took, and helped me to my feet. “And you know what made me feel a little bit better?” He turned me around, so now my back was plastered to his chest.

“What?” My skin prickled with goose bumps as I felt his breath graze my neck.

“Thinking about us talking today, with you wearing this.” His fingers tangled with mine before he slipped the garter belt out of my hold and brought it to my hips to see if the size fit.

The way he held me right now while asking me to wear lingerie for him took me by surprise. It wasn’t that I didn’t want it, but it came out of nowhere. For three weeks, he’d done nothing sexual with me, and suddenly, his breath danced in the shell of my ear while his fingers wandered up and down my body, awakening all of my senses and putting me on edge.

He then placed his hand on my stomach and pressed me against him until I could feel his hard cock digging into my ass. The pressure was almost too good, and I wished we were both naked.

“Something wrong?” His voice was filled with self-satisfaction.

“I thought you didn’t want to fuck me.”

“Of course, I want to fuck you, Llorón. I mean, I just bought you lingerie to wear for me.”

“So, why don’t you?”

He spun me around, so now I faced him. His black mask did nothing to make him look less like a sex god, and I cursed whoever made him this hot.

His mouth pulled into a half smirk. “There’s a big difference between wanting to do something and doing it.” His hand traveled up my body until it rested around my neck. “Don’t you agree?” He gripped me a little bit tighter, and fuck.

Ever since Diesel strangled me that night in their old school, the thought of being choked hadn’t left my mind. I knew all about edging and breath play, but I didn’t want any of that. I wanted someone to brutally and mercilessly hold me by the throat, for them to try and choke the life out of me. Rough sex was always my solution to get lost and forget my pain, but this craving took it to another level. It was a step I was too afraid to take. There was a moment I thought Jordan could do it for me, but he was too good. Even though I knew he’d do anything I wanted him to, I couldn’t bring myself to ask something so dark from him. It would have been too risky for him. Too destructive.

Could it be that Nero had figured out this was something I wanted? Or was he teasing me? Even if he knew, it didn’t matter. He’d just told me there were things he wanted but would never do, so perhaps this was my sign to let this dangerous thought go.

Pushing my wants aside, I stepped away from his touch and took the laced G-string out of the box. “Okay, I’ll wear it for you.”

Diesel

“Why did you have a bad day?” Llorón asked while I helped him put on the stockings. He didn’t need help, but I still told him to come and stand between my spread legs while I remained sitting on the edge of the bed. One of his feet was on my knee while his hands were holding on to my shoulders, keeping him balanced.

“It doesn’t matter,” I said as I slipped the stocking on his toes, brought it over his heel and up his calf, and slowly slid it up to his thick thighs, all while admiring his beautifully smooth sculpted muscles.

“But it does.” His eyes, peeking from behind the slit of Dion’s mask, shone like rare diamonds. “I’ll answer yours if you’ll answer mine.” He smirked.

Somehow over the past month, we’d developed this small questioning game. True, I hated playing games and told him so right from the start, but this one stuck. It was beyond me how this had even happened, me wanting to know everything about this enigma of a man, but many weird things had happened recently. Such as buying the man in question lingerie. I’d never even thought that lingerie was sexy, and when a girl wore it for me, I couldn’t have cared less. But when I went to buy flowers for Carmen and saw this piece hanging in the display window of a store right next to the florist, I couldn’t stop thinking about how good it would look on my Llorón.

That was another weird thing.

Llorón was constantly on my mind. When I went to sleep, in my dreams, in school, with other clients, he was always there. Our conversations followed me everywhere; each word he said stayed way longer than it should have. He was brilliantly fascinating, and I enjoyed being in his company. I longed for it almost every day because despite being different, we were also alike. So alike that I didn’t even care that he was one of those rich people I loathed so much.

“Come on. Tell me why your day was bad,” he argued again.

“Mhmm, fine.” Pressing my lips to his thigh, I gave him a soft kiss and then looked up to meet his stare. “It’s ’cause of the rain. I hate it.” And it was also my dead sister’s birthday, but I never told him about her, so I kept that detail to myself.

“That’s it? You hate the rain?”

Reaching for the box, I pulled the white-laced garter out.

“Up.” I tapped Llorón’s thigh and waited until he raised his feet enough for me to slide the band up his leg. “You already asked one question.” I smiled and ensured the adjustment straps were set right before clipping them to the lace garter.

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