Ross smiled lazily, like a king addressing a conquered queen.
"Simple," he said, spreading his arms as he lay back casually on the bed, not moving an inch. He looked perfectly at ease, completely confident in his control over everything and everyone in the room.
"I want you to make me feel good."
Brenda flinched, her face contorting in pain and humiliation.
Ross tilted his head, studying her, and then added with a mocking lilt, "You remember how to make a man feel good, right?" His voice was dripping with amusement, as if this situation was nothing more than a lighthearted game to him.
The seconds dragged on, stretching unbearably thick between them.
Brenda stayed frozen, paralyzed by shame and despair, until a low moan of pain escaped from Thomas's bloodied lips. That sound—the sound of her son suffering—shattered the last remnants of her pride.
