Page 142 of His Pretty Little Duet

And he’s going to let me comfort him, so I ready myself for whatever he needs, for what is clear as day in his body?—

He tears himself away, taking one step backwards, abruptly ending my thoughts.

I whimper at the loss.

Steeling, he orders, "Now, be my good girl and wait in the bedroom for me."

Aurora's words resonate in me for a moment—"Just let him know he can be… when he's ready"—and they help guide me off the counter without allowing his dismissal to hurt my heart further.When he's ready."Yes, Sir."I sober my expression and respect his order, leaving him in his own company.

Entering the bedroom, I immediately slide my gown off and lay it on my pillow. Neatly. I walk to the mirror to confront the girl from the recording, unwilling to let another day go by that I am not therightwoman for him. To truly do that, I have toaccept who I am, believe in myself, and see what he sees… what Aurora sees, too.

How do I help him if he feels as though I can barely help myself? How can I be his emotional rock if he's always mine?

The shower turns on in the bathroom just as I meet my own gaze. Staring at my naked reflection, my figure a slim shape with soft curves, I repeat Clay's words of affirmation to myself.Brave.

Resilient.

Beautiful.

His.

Powerful.

My breath vibrates as I sit backwards on the edge of the ottoman, spread my thighs, and for the first time ever, I really look at what was worth more to my foster brothers than me. The part of me that was more prized than the whole.

Is it trust?I had asked Clay this a few days ago.Is it about trusting my own body?

My body lied to me.

It lied tothem…

When I held them to me, when I clung to their thrusts, when I barely fought back…

Tears scorch the back of my eyes as I press the tip of my finger into the crease at the top, sinking in until I hit the sensitive bundle of nerves, and then I slide down the valley. I twitch at the sensation. My skin flushes.

A single tear drops through my lashes. Continuing until I'm above the entrance, I push my finger in, curling my back to aid in seeking the depth I desire. The depth I'm accustomed to withhim…Moans sound through a tight throat—a whimper.

I whimpered for them.

The sound clogs my airway because that's a lie, too. The sounds of whimpers, mewls, yelps, cries, all lies, sointerchangeable, so ambiguous. Am I in pain or pleasure— how do I know?

When they pushed into me, I whimpered and they egged each other on, fuelled by my sounds.

I start to shake under the memory, holding it all in, and then—I don't. I spear my fingers deeper, leaning forward to aid the depth, loving the sensation while sobs racket through my trembling muscles. Tears burst from my eyes, spitting from the pressure in my head, and I sob it all out, because it wasn't my body that lied.

It wasn't my voice.

It wasn't—It wasn’tmy fault.

It wasn't my fault!

Panting, I sit back and slide my fingers from the wet depth of my centre. I breathe deeply. Think about the man who I belong to, and how he belongs—just a little bit— to me.

He thinks this is pretty.

I look at my pussy again. I'm pink inside.Pretty.He's right.There are pleats of rouge skin, not unlike a rose; there's a silkiness to the flesh, not unlike the satin feel of the petals.

My mind drifts to the elegant face of Aurora, to the softness of her caress as she brushed my hair behind my ear.

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