Page 50 of The Contract

I, on the other hand, am tracking him like a fucking animal. There’s no subtlety in my body language. I might be invisible in a dark alley, but not here.

I was never good at faking. I can only manage it for short periods, and only because I know that everything I’m locking away will have a chance to be unleashed.

My parents should be grateful to Noah instead of hating him. What they wanted, for me to pretend that nothing happened,that two years in hell could be shut away behind a locked door and cease to exist, was impossible.

I can either choose my outlet and somewhat control how I unleash myself, or shit will just happen. Like the night I almost killed my father.

Noah understood that. The day I turned eighteen, he was waiting outside my parents’ building. He saved my life. He probably saved a lot of other lives too. Sort of. The body count is still about the same, but at least the rules dictatewhichbodies.

The rules with Tristan are different. That’s a different outlet. A different part of me. One that’s also fucked up. It’s not like I don’t know that.

That’s why I need rules. That’s why I needed him to sign the contract. That’s why he has, through his safe word, thefinalword. The ultimate control.

But that’s all I can offer him, that with that word I’ll stop. But until that word crosses his lips, he’s mine.

I’m both thrilled and furious that he’s trying to escape me now. My cock is rock hard. It shouldn’t be too obvious in these pants, but I don’t actually care if it is. All that matters right now is catching Tristan.

I’ve closed a lot of the distance between us, but he still gets through the doorway ahead of me. I almost break into a run, but I hold back until I reach the hallway—then I really chase him.

At the sound of my footsteps, he breaks into a run. He reaches the bathroom ahead of me. I can’t let him get that door locked, so the instant he throws it open and darts inside, I hit the button on the remote.

My dick jumps when he cries out. I easily catch the door before it shuts. I find Tristan on the floor.

“Fuck you, you fucking prick!” he snarls at me from his curled up position.

I turn off the vibration and lock the door. It’s a private bathroom, low lit and spacious, empty except for us.

I hook an arm around Tristan’s middle and haul him up. He doesn’t fight me as I yank off his jacket then haul him toward the sink. He half collapses against the counter. He’s trembling there, his eyes sheened with frustrated tears, as I reach around him to undo his pants. I clamp a hand on the back of his neck as I yank them and his underwear down. Blood drips from my under my sleeve onto his neck.

I admire the base of the plug sitting flush against his hole.

“I hate you,” he gasps as I twist it inside him.

“Why?” I ask. My cock is raging for sex, but I’m calmer now, calmer than I have been all day, maybe for several days.

He glares at me in the mirror. “Why do you think, you asshole?”

His anger doesn’t stop him from moaning as I pull the plug slowly from his ass, watching, captivated, as his hole stretches hugely around the bulb of the teardrop. When I pull it free, his hole flutters. His body convulses. I set the plug on the counter, standing it up so he can see the slick, glistening thing that’s been pleasuring him for the last hour and a half.

I want to finger his hole. It’s sloppy with lube, so fucking tempting. But I need to answer his question first.

I haul him upright, hooking one arm around his torso, lightly holding the other at his throat. The mirror goes low enough to reflect back to him the sight of his own cock, stiff, flushed and leaking. It juts up in front of his crisp shirt and white waistcoat.

“I think you hate me because I see the truth of you, and I make you see it too. And it’s hard to come to terms with the fact that what youreallywant, what youreallyneed, is base and raw and fucking primitive.”

Tristan’s eyes are tormented, but they’re dry now. He swallows hard. I feel it against my hand.

He doesn’t want to believe me. That’s fine. I can prove it.

I take my hand away from his throat to undo my pants and shove everything down, baring my stiff, aching cock. Then I yank his hips back. He bends over, clutching at the counter. His eyes squeeze shut as I set my cockhead against his slick, sloppy hole.

I wait. It’s not easy. I want to slam straight into his tight heat, but I wait.

And he does exactly what I expect. He starts to push back. His hole starts to stretch around my fat tip. He’s panting. He’s shaking.

I’ve tortured him enough. I impale him with a single, hard thrust. He lets out a sharp cry and I groan freely, throwing my head back, reveling in the hot, slick grip on my cock.

Then I start to fuck him. It’s rough and raw. The sound of my cock in his lubed ass is sloppy and filthy and perfect. His moans are punctuated by each hard thrust into his body. I’m grunting like a fucking animal as I rut inside him.

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