“Okay, let me get this straight.”
I’m trying to cover James better with the sheets we dragged out of bed. After being discovered by Nate—who, by the way, isn’t entirely aware of the meaning of knocking on a door before entering—I had to dodge his punches like a champion. Of course, many of them hurt me just the same, my bloody nose and sore side the best evidence of that. But fortunately, he didn’t leave me unconscious. If you can call that a victory.
He didn’t even let us put on any clothes, so we had to use the covers—still stained with semen—to not walk around naked, with our p*****s hanging out in the living room, where he finally demanded that we meet to have a “proper talk”, in his own words. My boy’s face is disfigured with the shame and humiliation his overprotective brother is p
