What kind of question was that? Of course, I wanted answers. Questions had been brewing in my mind since the morning he left that tray on the bed right after he took my virginity and ran. If he thought I was letting this go, he had another thing coming.
Apparently, my expression said it all, because he steeled his jaw and his stare grew dark. “Okay, but for every answer I give you, you give me something in return.”
“What kind ofsomething?”
“That depends on how deep you want to go.”
There was a hint of something in his tone. A challenge? A veiled threat? Lust? I wasn’t sure. I just knew I wasn’t backing down.
“Deal.”
How bad could it be?
“You should know the deeper you dig, the darker it gets.”
“And? I’m not afraid of the dark.” It was only a half-lie. I wasn’t afraid of the darkness in general. I wasn’t even afraid of the darkness I would find in him. I was only afraid of the darkness I might find inme. What if deep down inside he was the monster my brother claimed he was, and I wanted him anyway? What did that say about me?
Caspian lifted a brow.
I gave him a look. “What?”
He smirked. “Nothing. Start digging.”
“Why does my brother blame you for his accident?”
He let go of me and took a step back. “Because it wasn’t an accident. Your family lied to you.”
What?My family didn’t lie. We were the epitome of a Norman Rockwell painting. The evidence was in every framed photo that hung on the wall and every memory of my parents smiling and clapping at my recitals. My father had been in politics my whole life, and people loved him because there wasn’t a pile of skeletons following him wherever he went. The only time anything had ever felt “off” was after Lyric’s death. What happened to Lincoln had nothing to do with me, so why would they lie?
But I knew Caspian was telling the truth, and the fact that I didn’t even question it spoke volumes about where I’d placed my loyalty.
Caspian cut off my train of thought, answering a question I didn’t even ask. “Probably to protect you, which I agree with, even though I hate it.”
“What really happened?”Why would they need to protect me?I was so tired of people “protecting” me.
“That’s number two, and you haven’t paid up for the first one yet.”
“Fair enough. Your turn.”
“How many times have you fucked yourself with the dick I sent you? Withmydick?”
With his dick.Hot flames licked at my core, lapping and twisting, until I was wrapped in a web of lust. I was certain my body language gave me away before I ever answered. Heat traveled from the back of my neck to my cheeks. My walls clenched from the mere memory of it, and my whole body vibrated with need. This time I wanted the real thing, not a rubber imitation.
He didn’t show it, but the low tone in his voice told me he was just as affected by his question as I was.
“What kind of question is that?” My voice was hoarse with need.
The kind a man who sends you a mold of his cock asks.
He repeated his question slowly. “How many times?”
Lying to him was futile. Besides, I didn’t care if he knew. Iwantedhim to know. “Almost every day.”
His expression changed in an instant. His features sharpened, and his eyes darkened. Pride. Possession. Lust. It was all there in deep seas of whiskey gold. The more he looked at me, the sharper my breaths became, the hotter the fire burned within me. That look alone nearly sent me over the edge.
Then he reached down to palm his cock—his unmistakably hard cock.
A tremor racked my body, and I swallowed hard.