Page 49 of Madness & Mercy
My face burns. It’s true. My cock is still straining against nothing—leaking, aching,throbbingfor friction he won’t give me.
“Tell me what you were doing out there,” he says again, voice lower now, dead serious. “Tell me the truth.”
I shake my head. “You don’t get to interrogate me like this.”
“Oh, but I do.” He leans closer, mouth barely grazing my jaw without kissing it. “I gave you a bed. You gave me lies.”
His lips brush my earlobe. My breath catches.
I hate him.
I hate him.
I hate him.
Ineedhim to touch me.
“I can do this all day, Julian,” he whispers. “I’ve broken men in less time than it’s taken you to beg.”
“I’m not begging.”
He smiles against my cheek. “Not with words.”
He moves again, this time, down to my thigh, where his fingers barely skim the sheets.
And still, no touch.
I buck again, my frustration boiling over into something feral. “Goddammit—”
“You want relief?” he says, stepping back. “Tell me something real.”
I grit my teeth so hard it hurts. My pride is a pit of fire in my throat. I’ve survived interrogations that tore flesh from bone. Butthis?
This slow, burning denial?
It’s fuckingworse,somehow.
I have to give him something. But if I lie through my teeth like last time, he’ll know. So, I settle on a half-truth.
“Fine,” I bite out, chest heaving. “You want the truth? Here it is.”
He waits.
“I’ve been watching you for years.”
His eyes flicker, a small shift, but it’s there. I keep going.
“I knew who you were before. I knew your name. Your habits. Where you live. Where you fucked. I kneweverything.”
A tense beat passes. Two.
“I was never just some random guy.”
He stares at me like he’s trying to see through my skin.
“And why?” he asks quietly. “Why me?”
I swallow hard. “Because I wanted to know what kind of man you were.”
