Trust in Me by Skye Warren Page A

was better at faking this than I would have thought. Better than I was even. I’d gotten lost in the moment, thought it was real. Until he said those words, words I knew could never be true, and it all came crashing back to me.
    I couldn’t believe I’d made him fuck me like that. Was he disgusted by me? He should be.
    I had no cause to ever complain about my lot as a whore, even in my head. Because the fact was that as soon as I’d wanted someone and had the means to force him, I’d done it. I made Tyler use his body to get what he needed just like Carlos made me use mine.
    Jerkily, I pulled off the bed and grabbed my clothes. I relished each stab of pain from the fabric as it snagged on my open wounds, knowing I deserved even worse.
    “What is it?” His chest was still heaving, and his eyes were still bleary and sated as he looked at me.
    I shook my head. It wasn’t his fault. I wanted to tell him that, explain that it was me that had screwed him over, that he shouldn’t feel any shame about what happened, but my mouth wouldn’t form the words. And he’d done it for me. Even if I forced him into it, he’d pleased me and I wanted him to know how much it meant to me, at least.
    “Thank you,” I finally choked out. “Thank you for doing this.”
    Then I fled the room.

 
     
     
     
    Chapter Nine
    All men liked blowjobs, but Carlos had a special affinity to them, particularly the choking, gagging kind. That’s what I was doing with my head between Carlos’s legs when Tyler walked in. My leaking eyes had surely made my mascara run, and the entire bottom half of my face was covered with saliva and pre-cum. Even without a mirror, I was disgusted with myself. I was almost grateful for the thick cock in my mouth, shielding the ugly sight of my face as it did.
    Tyler cleared his throat. “I need to have a word with you.”
    Thank you for doing this, I mocked myself ruthlessly with the words I’d spoken to Tyler last night. So polite. We could write an etiquette column for the gangbanger set.
    “Yes, come in,” Carlos said impatiently. “Ignore her.”
    God, if only Tyler could ignore me. I wouldn’t be offended. I’d be grateful. But I was pretty sure it was impossible. Not only because of the loud, messy blowjob, made worse by Carlos’s hand ramming my mouth onto him, harder and deeper, but because of the slutty get-up I’d worn to entice Carlos into using me. The draping top, just a wisp of fabric, showed off the scars on my back. Carlos liked to see them.
    From the corner of my eye, I saw Tyler perch on a nearby chair, as awkward as a choir boy watching his first porno. He’d give himself away like that. No bona fide human trafficker had a problem watching a slut get roughed up. He might as well flash his FBI badge. We were both losing our ability to fake it, which was the only thing keeping an undercover agent and a whore alive.
    I needed to distract Carlos before he made Tyler for a cop.
    I sucked in deep, far back into my throat where I couldn’t breathe, not even through my nose. My lips kissed the base of his cock, my face smashed into his stomach. Then I swallowed, gratified by the low masculine groan that reverberated through the air and through his cock. Gratified because it gave Tyler a chance to compose himself.
    Unfortunately, he didn’t take the hint.
    “I want to go over the schematics one last time before tomorrow’s run,” Tyler said. “Let’s take it into the office.”
    God damn , I knew what he was doing. Exactly what I was doing. He was trying to distract Carlos to give me a break. But hell, I didn’t need a break from this. This was all I was good for. This was all I could offer Tyler, the services of a slut.
    “Sure,” Carlos said, as if he was finishing up a card game or something instead of shoving his dick into a throat. “Hold on.”
    He pushed me down deep again and held me there. My body instinctively jerked and flailed in a futile attempt to get free, even though I