“Who hurt you?” I ask, and he exhales shakily. He gestures toward the door angrily. “Get out.” But I don’t listen. I just plant myself right in his kitchen and refuse to budge. “Who hurt you, Theo? Because it sure as fuck wasn’t me. What we just did was fucking consensual, and you know it.” His cheeks redden, and he shoves me again. And yeah, his dick might be bigger than mine, but I’m stronger. He can’t move me. “Who hurt you?” I repeat more softly, and he huffs. “Men like you!” he nearly shouts, and my chest aches. “It’s always men like you.” “Men like me?” “Yes, you heard me. Now get the
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