Page 19 of Blaze & Ajax

The only time I’d ever been this filled with regret and self-hatred was when I got caught with someone I shouldn’t have been with. It had changed the course of my life forever, and I’d only regretted it because I losthimthat day, too. I should’ve regretted him, but I couldn’t. Strangely, my Dom healed me in a way and made me feel whole, even for a little while.

For the second time in my life, I hated myself for sitting on my knees for Ajax and then sucking his cock. He was the worst. Why did it have to be fucking Ajax who was the one I willingly dropped to my knees for? Surprisingly, he gave in and did it. It didn’t nearly meet my needs, but it would have to do.Never again. I couldn’t go back there. The humiliation and self-loathing were overwhelming.

Fuck, but I had to face him all the time. Now, he’d always see me as someone who needed to be told he was a fucking good boy.

My face burned, and my eyes watered as I walked home, needing to walk off the edge and irritation at myself. My humiliation was toxic and suffocating.

I swiped at my eyes when a couple of tears fell. The weakness that consumed me made it hard for me to breathe. I tried to be strong, to show the world that nothing fazed me. Instead, I was powerless, weak, pathetic.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I hissed.

Ajax didn’t get everything right because I hadn’t told him shit about anything, but… for a moment, I was at peace, at home. Sitting on my knees, giving in to complete servitude…

Fuck, when Ajax shoved me against the window, making me show the world who I really was… I didn’t know if I loved it or hated it. It was freeing. It was fucking mortifying.

No!

I hated it. I hated him.

Never again.

For most of my life, I’d been waited on hand and foot, with no direction or goals. Everything had been handed to me and then ignored. I’d been so lost, not knowing what I wanted to do with my life and having a mother who was completely indifferent to me and neglectful. She didn’t have any plans for me, either. I simply existed; no more important to her than one of her fixtures that decorated the mansion.

Not until him.

Goddamn fucking memories! I wish they’d shut the hell up, but they were getting worse. It was like I had an addiction, and Ajax gave me my fix, but like all addictions, it wasn’t enough. I needed more. If I didn’t get my fix, my memories would consume me.

“You’re a brat, Aiden,” he says, standing so much taller, looking down at me, unsmiling.

“Yes, sir,” I agree, because I would do anything for him. He gives me the structure and attention I so desperately need. I may be young, but I’ve always knownI needed this. He makes me feel wanted, like I matter. He never ignores me. Sometimes I’m a brat intentionally to get his focus on me.

He’s so beautiful with his wavy salt-and-pepper hair, groomed beard, and kind but stern blue eyes. He’s the epitome of confidence, power, and control. He’s everything I’m not and everything I want. I’ve had a crush on him for months now.

“This is how it’s going to go from now on. When you misbehave, don’t do as you’re told, or if you show any sort of attitude, you’ll be punished. If you’re good, you’ll be rewarded. How does that sound?”

“I want that so much, sir.”

“Excellent. You’re going to be such a good boy.”

I forced the memory out of my fucking head. He didn’t deserve to be in there. He’d abandoned me like everyone else. It was all a fucking lie!

I felt myself spiraling again. Ever since the day I’d kissed Ajax, I’d been slipping. I’d done just fine until him! Why couldn’t he have left me alone?

I dropped my half-finished smoke on the ground, stepped on it, and tightened the scarf around my neck, wishing it was summer again.

When I finally reached my apartment building, I opened the door that was supposed to have a code—but had been busted since before I moved in—and headed up the stairs. The elevator was busted, too… Piece of shit building.

Part of me missed the life of luxury. The other part couldn’t give two fucks. Still, this place was better than the streets.

I stepped into the apartment and inwardly groaned at seeing Cueball reading a book on the couch. He was always reading.

He’d see it. Healwayssaw. Cueball was a goddamn mind guru or some shit. He didn’t talk much, but he watchedeverything.

When he looked up after I shut the door, his amber eyes narrowed. Dark hair ghosted his bald head, which he would shave off soon.

What did he look like with hair?

What the fuck does it matter?

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