Page 21 of Filthy and the Beast

“Right.” I’m still hard, still dripping sweat. But after another deep exhale, I start the routine, squatting and stretching with Damian spotting me from behind.

“Is boxing fun?”

I let out a raspy laugh. “Fun?”

“Yeah.” He moves with me, bending as I squat. “Did you have fun when you were a pro?”

I consider the question. So much hurt and loss taints the memories, I almost forgot, but… “It was fun sometimes,” I agree. “Sure.”

Damian hums, pleased. He must like that for some reason.

Feels nice.

I come back to my senses. Try to will away the erection flopping around in my sweats.

“Speaking of fun,” he says. “I stumbled on an idea for a career. The only problem is it takes a lot of school, but despite that barrier, I can actually see myself doing it.”

“School is good.” Wish I had done some proper education, but I didn’t finish high school. “That’s a good thing.”

My muscles strain through another squat, my athlete’s brain training in on my form. My back hurts, but it’s not locking up.

“Good and expensive,” he says.

I should pay for his school.

The thought grabs me out of nowhere. It’s nonsense, and I shake it away.

Weird.

Don’t even really have the money.

“You’re smart. You’d make it pay off.” My erection finally gone, I stop stretching, wipe my face with a towel, and turn to face him again. “What’s the career, anyway?”

“Sex therapy.” He hands me a water bottle. “There’s a bunch of different kinds. There’s even this thing called sexual surrogacy, where people have sex with their clients. Isn’t that wild? I don’t think I’d want to be a surrogate, but talking with people about their sex lives and giving them advice sounds interesting.”

My ears ring.

My chest feels that way again. Hurts.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I blurt out.

Damian holds both his hands up. “Whoa. Big reaction. I understand. Lots of emotions wrapped up in sex. I’m just considering the possibility now. Maybe it’s not for me?” He turns his eyes toward the ceiling, pondering. “I’ve had sex with alotof people, so I have copious experience to draw from.”

I gulp from the water he handed me, not stopping until the bottle is empty.

There is no way in hell I’m paying for him to go to school and have sex with a lot of people who aren’t me.

I hear my own thoughts.

Fuck.

“Sex surrogate,” I say.

“Probably not that one.” Damian shrugs. “But sex therapist? It’s a way to help. Help a few more people achieve happiness and peace in their bodies, which is especially important considering how damaging and toxic our world can be. That sounds nice to me.” His eyes flash behind his glasses. “I like helping people.”

He says it so sweetly I'm caught off guard. I’m standing here fuming, wrestling through possessive impulses and instincts I don’t understand. But what the kid does with his life is none of my fucking business. He doesn’t owe me a damn thing.

He wants to help people, and here I am giving him a hard time about it.

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