Painter’s Obsession

12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

Byron

S o far, meeting Prince Charming has done nothing but leave me with a sour taste in my mouth, a pounding headache, and a raging erection. The worst part? I don’t want to bury my cock into Linda’s warm, willing cunt to fix it. No, what I really want is to put distance between me and whatever twisted game that asshole is playing before I do something I’ll end up regretting.

The dew-soaked grass squishes under my feet as I trudge away from the trailer, and I curse when I realize I’m wearing my black slides and socks instead of my boots. Wet socks. As if I needed another reason to fantasize about strangling Ren Sato—preferably with my hands. Or maybe my cock.

From the corner of my eye, I catch the flash of headlights as his high-end car pulls out of the shitty parking spot by my trailer. I bite my lip, watching until his taillights vanish into the distance. Only then do I turn back home and make my way inside.

The second I step through the door, the scent hits me—him. Expensive cologne, sharp and infuriating but somehow intoxicating. The air is saturated with it, wrapping around me like a second skin, and I hate how it makes my pulse race.

Walking down the narrow hall, I freeze as the image of his muscled back slams into me, unbidden. The way the dragon tattoo curled and shifted with every powerful thrust, every flex of his body as he took her—it’s burned into my brain, no matter how hard I try to shake it.

“Fuck,” I mutter, slapping the side of my head as if that will erase the memory. It doesn’t.

The thought of him being with my sister should be enough to kill this sick fascination. If anyone’s off-limits, it’s the smug prick she’s head over heels for. He’s bad news for her—and worse for me.

I can barely move around with my cock as hard as it is, but nothing a cold shower can’t fix. Quickly, I strip out of my sweats, white t-shirt, and wet socks, tossing them into the hamper like they’ve offended me. Wrapping a black towel around my waist, I step into the hall and head to the bathroom I share with Gabs.

Turning the water to the coldest setting, I hang my towel behind the door and step into the icy stream. The cold rush hits my inked body, but it does nothing to cool the burn beneath my skin. The need is still there, clawing at me, raw and insistent. My cock throbs, hard and unrelenting, and I know I won’t make it through this shower without giving in.

Groaning, I wrap my hand around my length, resting my head against the cold tiles. The image of Ren’s back muscles moving as he thrust into her flickers in my mind. But instead of her, it’s me he’s fucking, pounding into me with that same relentless energy.

“Fuck,” I growl, the shame coiling in my stomach, twisting with the raw need. The visceral arousal tightens my bodybuilding , and my strokes become rougher, faster, fueled by the memory of his tongue darting out to clean the spit off his face earlier. Only now, it’s not spit—it’s my cum, thick and coating his lips.

The thought alone sends me over the edge. My release is quick and violent, my breath ragged as I spill over my hand. The shame rushes in immediately, hot and suffocating, but I scrub the evidence away in the cold stream, hoping to wash the sickness from my skin.

I need him out of her life. I need Ren Sato out of mine.

Once I’m done scrubbing away the shame, the disgust, and my sins, I step out of the shower and dry off. Slipping into black joggers, I skip the boxers—I haven’t worn them since prison. Freeballing at night is just one of those habits I can’t shake, a quiet rebellion against a past that still clings to me.

My body shivers as memories creep in, unbidden. The sting of the belt. The pain. The welts. My dad’s voice, sharp and venomous, echoing in my head.

“Mi hijo no es maricón. No.” Another swing. I wanted to scream from the sting, but I didn’t. I clenched my fists, ground my teeth, and took my punishment. For being sick. For looking at what I shouldn’t.

“No son of mine will grow up to be a fag.” He’d snarled those words, and they’ve been branded into me ever since.