Better When It Hurts (Stripped 2)

“Think you’re too good to suck my dick, but you’ll spread your legs for that fucker?”

I flinch at the mention of Blue, the realization that he could be in trouble. Because of me. Fucking history, always repeating. If Travis told on Blue to the police, that could cause trouble. If not with the cops, then definitely with Ivan. It doesn’t look great if the head of security gets arrested. Ivan may get involved with some shady stuff, but the Grand has always been by the book.

Maybe that would be the best, if Blue got fired. This kind of neighborhood, this crazy man? Blue shouldn’t have to deal with any of that. And I know now that he’s here because of me. He came back for me.

My voice trembles. “I’ll make it up to you.”

His smile is cruel. “I know you will, sweetheart. I fucking know.”

Five years later and I’m back in the same place, under the thumb of another man. Five years later and I’d still do anything to keep Blue safe.

The same fucking place.

“On your knees,” he says.

Oh God, I can’t do this.

I have to do this.

It’s an impossible choice, a war against myself. I hate how familiar it is, like a well-worn sweater. This is who I am—and this is why Blue and I could never have been together.

Slowly, painfully, gracefully, I sink to my knees. My lips move into a pout. “Whatever you want.”

I can be Lola for him, in a way I never could for Blue. She was made for this.

The blow to my face isn’t a surprise. He doesn’t want to get off. He wants to hurt me. He wants to humiliate me. I land

on my hands. Pebbles and old metal cut into my palms. My cheek is burning with the pain of impact.

“Look at me,” he demands, and I do.

It’s seductive and angry, sensual and fucking depraved. “You’re a pig,” I tell him, because that’s part of the game.

He laughs, his yellow teeth shining in the sunlight. It’s twisted, being attacked in the middle of the day. Twisted and just right for a woman who makes her living at night. “Yeah, I’m a pig who’s going to come down your throat, so what does that make you?”

The same thing I’ve always been—a whore. A fuck doll. I’m nothing at all.

So why did Blue want me? It hurts that he might want me, as if he doesn’t know who I am. Imagining the shock and disappointment he might feel when he finds out.

“Is this how you give it to that fucker?” he asks. “Out back when you’re on break?”

Something inside me turns to ice. This isn’t how Blue treats me. He’s rough and hard and even mean, but he’s never made me suck him off while I’m on break. He could have. I would have let him.

Or he could have made me, by pushing me down, by punching me. By forcing me, like this man.

Except I’m not going to let him.

“No,” I say. “I give it to him at his apartment, in his bed. Like we’re a goddamn couple.”

That makes him laugh again. He thinks it’s part of the game. He doesn’t realize I’m done. All my life I’ve chosen survival over dignity. I’d let a man fuck me if it meant staying safe.

Being fucked by those men wasn’t safe.

Blue thinks I’m worth more than that. Even if I don’t believe him, if I can’t believe him, I don’t want to disappoint him this time.

I stand up to move away. Surprise registers in his eyes for a brief second before anger resurfaces. His fist comes at me hard, and even though I move to block him, it’s no match. He punches me in the jaw, and I stagger back, hitting the wall.

“On your knees,” he says again, louder.