Page 78 of Once Upon a Fable

“Not until you give me sunlight.”

He groaned as a bead of pre-cum glistened on the tip. His hips thrust forward as his hands latched tighter around my shoulders, pulling me into him. “Suck me.”

I turned my head away, my hands landing on his thighs and pushing against his pulling. “No.”

“Do it!”

“No!” I strained to look up. Along his body to his eyes. His ripped and scarred body. His muscles etched beneath his shirt, his biceps threatening to shred the rest of the material dressing him.

With a savage growl, he ripped a hand off my shoulder and reached for his cock. For a fraction of a second, he wrapped his fist around himself and angled it closer to my unwilling mouth.

But then, he dropped himself as if he were laced in poison. He shook out his hand as his cock bobbed and his thighs clenched with dissatisfaction. His balls had drawn up so tight against his body, I couldn’t see them amongst his hair.

He shuddered and glanced at his hand again, almost as if he expected to see his skin being dissolved from daring to touch himself.

I froze.

What did that mean?

I could touch him, suck him, pleasure him, yet he couldn’t touch himself?

His tortured eyes met mine, no longer guarded by a shield but open for my rifling. Something terrible had happened to him. Beyond terrible. Something so painful, so intrinsically linked to self-pleasure that it’d forever destroyed his ability to masturbate.

I didn’t need to ask.

I knew.

And with a feral groan, he knew I knew.

He slapped me.

His palm bit hotly against my cheek, making me gasp with shock.

He stumbled backward, wrenching up his slacks. “I...I—” For a second, he looked like he’d be sick. As if physically raising a hand to me had driven him into a space he couldn’t breathe.

My cheek blazed, but the discomfort was nothing compared to the bruising he’d left behind from strangling me. He’d done far worse than slap me, so why did this abuse torment him the most?

“I...I can’t stay here.” With drunken steps, he bolted away from me and ripped open the door. At the last second before he disappeared, he looked over his shoulder, his manic stare meeting mine.

He swallowed hard, hate tangling with horror and horror knotting with need. If there was a word for the state of pain he was in, I would’ve said harrowed. He was harrowed and wanting and completely screwed up from a past that echoed with agony.

His lips pulled back, anger drowning his panic. “When I return, you will doexactlywhat I say, without fucking question. Just try to say no to me again.” He fisted the door handle, stalking over the threshold before snarling, “And eat your goddamn food!”

The door slamming ricocheted in my ears long after he’d gone.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

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I’D TOUCHED MYSELF.

She’d made me angry enough, lust-fogged enough to grab that grotesque thing between my legs andtouchit.

Oh, God.

The urge to vomit came strong again, bringing with it a chariot of memories, all screeching to be noticed, pounding fists at the barricaded door in my mind.

I fell to my knees the moment I bolted from her cell.