Chapter Four #4
“Come sit at the island,” Ash says, his voice soothing. He guides me away from the living room, away from the scene of the crime, and pulls out one of the barstools.
I sink onto the leather seat, wrapping my arms around my naked torso. The cold marble counter presses against my side. Ash moves around the kitchen, a cabinet opens and closes. Water runs from the tap. A few seconds later, a glass of water slides across the island into my line of sight.
My hands tremble so badly when I reach for it that water sloshes over the rim, splashing onto my knuckles. I manage to take a slow sip, letting the cold liquid wash away the lingering, musky taste of Ryker coating my tongue.
Ash steps into my peripheral vision. He doesn’t say a word, just leans in close and presses a warm, damp towel to my mouth.
The heat soothes my aching jaw. I squeeze my eyes shut, holding my breath as he gently wipes away the sticky mess from my lips, my chin, and the front of my neck.
He doesn’t make a big deal out of it. He treats it as though he’s just wiping up a spilled drink, offering quiet dignity.
“We’re just going to rest tonight,” Ash tells me, pulling the cloth away. He rests a hand on my bare shoulder. “Nothing else, okay? You’ve had a long day.”
I nod, still unable to look him in the face. My chest tightens with gratitude.
He leads me down the hall to his bedroom, the same room I showered in yesterday. It feels a lifetime ago. The plush beige carpet sinks under my toes. Ash opens his dresser and pulls out a fresh pair of gray sweatpants and a clean white t-shirt, tossing them onto the edge of the mattress.
“Take your time,” he says, gesturing toward the master bathroom.
Ducking into the bathroom, I shut the door and exhale raggedly.
The silence rings in my ears before I turn the faucet on, splashing hot water over my face and scrubbing my skin until it turns pink.
Grabbing a spare toothbrush, I scrub my teeth twice over, furiously spitting minty foam into the sink in a desperate bid to erase the memory of a guy thrusting down my throat.
When I step back into the bedroom wearing the borrowed clothes, the overhead lights are off. Only a small bedside lamp gives a warm, dim glow over the beige walls. Ash is already in bed, lying on the edge of his side, scrolling through his phone in a dark t-shirt and pajama pants.
He folds the blanket back on the empty side, silently inviting me in.
Climbing onto the mattress, my sore, tense muscles finally get a break as I slide under the warm duvet. The bed is ridiculously soft. It envelops me in warmth, the scent of sandalwood and clean laundry surrounding me. Ash clicks off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness.
He stays on his side of the mattress. He doesn’t reach for me. Doesn’t test boundaries. The space between us feels intentional, a physical boundary he’s setting so I know I’m safe. And I do feel safe. Lying here in the quiet dark, enveloped in soft sheets.
Minutes stretch out. The only sound is the faint hum of the city traffic drifting through the windows. My mind races, replaying the last hour on a torturous loop. The weight of Ryker’s hand in my hair. The rough, demanding slide of his cock. The gagging, the tears, the utter helplessness.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I whisper into the dark.
The sheets rustle as Ash shifts onto his side, facing me in the pitch black.
“You don’t have to,” Ash replies softly. His voice is low. “I meant what I said earlier. You can walk away whenever you want, Jax. No one’s forcing you to stay.”
I swallow hard, staring up at the invisible ceiling.
He thinks I’m scared of them. He thinks the rough treatment terrified me, that Ryker pushed me too far, too fast.
But that’s not what’s keeping me awake.
The thing really scaring me is that I didn’t hate it.
I was terrified, yeah, and my jaw still aches, but the whole time Ryker was forcing himself into my mouth, my dick was rock hard.
I was leaking precum, aching for release, turned on by the dominant, aggressive way he used me.
I don’t understand why. I spent twenty-two years believing I was a hetero guy from a devout family.
I didn’t know I had this twisted, subservient craving hiding under my skin.
I’m afraid of what it means about me. I’m afraid of what else they’re going to pull out of me.
I keep my mouth shut, burying that terrifying realization deep inside.
Ash doesn’t press for an explanation. He lets the silence settle over us again, wrapping around me, warm and protective.
The steady rise and fall of his chest nearby slowly chips away at my racing heartbeat.
My tense muscles finally start to uncoil.
Exhaustion pulls at my eyelids, dragging me down into a dreamless fog.
I’m still uncertain. I’m still a bundle of frayed nerves and panicked confusion.
But as the warmth of the bed seeps into my bones, I let myself hold onto one reassuring fact.
Whatever crazy, terrifying things are going to happen over the next three days, at least Ash will be the one guiding me through them.