Page 26 of Gambler's Fallacy

Tell me to be gentle.

He shakes his head quickly. “Don’t be gentle,” he pants. “Don’t… Don’t be gentle. Please. I need…”

I push in, penetrating his tight hole. The spit barely helps at all, and it’s a rough, dry squeeze to get inside him.

It’s so fucking good though, especially when Seven cries out and pushes against me, urging me to continue.

His hands are pressed against the wall, fingers splayed and covered with blue paint, but he doesn’t seem to care any more than I do.

All he wants is this, every bit as much as I do.

I pound into him ruthlessly, not giving Seven a chance to relax or meet my thrusts. He only has to take it, his torso flat against the wall, his mouth parted in desperate cries.

I don’t last long, not with this frantic pace I’m setting. It’s anger and frustration and the sheer hotness that is Seven taking it. I let the pleasure take me as I slam into Seven and empty my load into him.

Seven shudders at the feeling, but he doesn’t touch himself.

I pull away and watch my cum trickle out of Seven’s ass.

There’s blood there, too.

Shame floods into me, and I stumble a few steps back. “Shit. Seven, I’m sorry.”

He looks over his shoulder at me, blinking several times. “What?” he asks, and his voice is slurred. “Why are you sorry?” he echoes myown words back at me, but unlike him, I have every reason to apologize.

“I used you. I forced you.” I clumsily tuck my cock back in, but I’m completely filthy. “I’m no fucking better than he is.”

He shakes his head, but he leans hard against the wall without bothering to pull his pants up. His forehead is pressed against it, too, getting as covered with paint as the rest of him. “I wanted it,” he says. “I wantedyou. I always want you.”

“I tore you up,” I point out. “Crap, we need to get you clean. Showered. I… I don’t have ointment… Fuck. Fuck, I’ll go buy some?—”

He startles and spins around to face me. “What? No! No, you can’t leave me here.” There’s very real panic in his voice now, the fear he should’ve had directed at me instead directed at the idea of being left alone.

I deflate and rub my brow. “Okay. Um. We can still shower. I did buy a first aid kit. Maybe there’s something there I can use. You can chill on my mattress after; I’ll do all the painting.”

“But I’m fine,” Seven says, finally pulling his pants up. He’s still a complete mess, blue from head to toe from where I’d shoved him against the wall and fucked him so hard. “Just… blue.”

How the hell is he okay with all of this? I would hate me—hell, a lot of partnershadhated me, for being too rough. I was more than “too rough” with Seven. For all that I got on Caleb’s case for being a bully, I’m the real problem.

I take a step toward Seven, and he doesn’t back away. “Do you want me to help you shower?” I ask quietly. “I can wait outside the bathroom too, if that’s better.”

His expression flickers with confusion. “Havoc… Why are you being so weird?”

He really doesn’t get it. I sigh and shake my head. “Okay. Never mind. Let’s get cleaned up. And start over on the paint job, if your ass isn’t too sore. You really don’t have to help though, you can sit there and keep me company.”

So I don’t think about everything, so I don’t keep worrying aboutmy mother even though there’s not a damn thing she’ll let me do to help.

“I think my ass would be less comfortable sitting down,” he points out. “But I really do want to help.” He glances at the wall. “Wow, we made a real mess, didn’t we? Should we wait to clean up until we’re done?”

“You don’t want it to dry on your skin,” I point out. “It’s fine. We’ll fix the wall with a few extra coats of paint.”

I extend my arm out, and despite everything, Seven steps into my personal space without hesitating.

I knew he was fucked up, but I don’t think I realized to what extent until now.

I have to get myself under control.

I can’t do this to him again.

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