Read Online A Dangerous Game by Rick R. Reed - Free Book Online

used him and stolen from him something he’d never get back? He thought of his mother and how much more awful what she went through must have been, with complete physical penetration. But damned if he didn’t feel like he’d been a thing, a device to use, to degrade.
    It was dehumanizing.
    During those long hours, waiting for dawn to filter into the apartment, Wren experienced a gamut of emotions, ranging from depression to despair to rage. What he had felt for Devin, whether it had been as friend, lover, or fuck buddy, was now all gone, replaced by hatred.
    It was all Wren could do not to go into the bedroom and do something in retaliation to the man. He didn’t know what it would be—if he would spit on him, punch him, strangle him, or just scream at him, telling him what a user and asshole he was, with no respect or dignity.
    But all he did was wait for the grayish-pink light of dawn to tiptoe into the apartment. When it did, Wren rose from the couch and went into the bathroom. He took a piss and stood over the sink, splashing water on his face and pulling at his hair until he thought he looked halfway presentable.
    Back in the living room, he dressed silently, his fingers trembling as he pulled on a T-shirt. Just as soundlessly, he slid into his jeans and sneakers and then gathered up his few belongings. Finally, he tucked everything into his duffel bag.
    He looked around the apartment he’d thought was going to be his home for a couple of weeks at least, and the light revealed nothing out of place. The near-overflowing ashtray on the coffee table was like a pimple on pristine skin.
    Dude. Do not tell me you are going to be courteous enough to empty that tray. Wren’s hand hovered over the aluminum ashtray, and he finally did pick it up. He tiptoed into Devin’s bedroom with it and stood there, near the doorway, watching Devin sleep. The sheet was pulled halfway up over his stomach, leaving his magnificent, perfect pecs exposed. Wren was stunned to see that, even though the guy’s mouth was open and he was snoring somewhere in the decibel vicinity of a freight train, he had a hard-on. It was plainly outlined beneath the sheet’s thin fabric.
    Without making a sound, Wren moved slowly and cautiously over to the bed. He dumped the ashtray gently on Devin’s crotch and tiptoed away, leaving the ashtray itself at the foot of the bed.
    At the door he whispered, “Thanks for nothing, you dick. Don’t say I don’t clean up after myself.”
    He grabbed his duffel and continued to the front door without making a sound, then slammed it behind him, hard enough to rattle the frame.
    Immature, yes, but it did make Wren feel better.

Chapter Six
     
     
    “HONEY, WHAT are you doing here? I thought you were gonna stay with your friend Devin.” Linda peered out at him from the doorway of her new apartment, hair tousled, sleep in her eyes. She did not look happy. “What time is it?”
    “Sorry. I think it’s only a little after six. Did I wake you up?” Wren whispered in deference to the early hour.
    “Well, yeah.”
    Wren hadn’t wanted to bother his mother, and now he wished he had found a Starbucks or something to hang out in until a decent time. Just as he had, Linda had moved in a hurry over the weekend. It was amazing how quickly a life could be stripped down and transported.
    But he didn’t want to miss her before she started her new responsibilities at the hotel, which she had told him would encompass daytime hours. “I no longer have to say I’m just a bartender. I’m in management,” she had boasted.
    “Things didn’t work out with Devin,” he blurted, trying to peer around his mother, who stood in the doorway with the door only halfway open. The remainder of the space was blocked by Linda’s petite form. She held a pale blue satin robe closed at her chest. Okay, this was weird. So Wren asked, “I’m sorry it’s so early and all, but are you gonna let me in?”
    Linda leaned close, whispering.