Throwing My Ex in the Slammer

My name is Brandon Westin, and I'm Carlisle Grayson's secretary and secret lover.

No matter how cold he acts toward me, how much he humiliates me, or how often he "lends" me off to other people, I still choose to stick with him without any remorse or complaints.

His friends call me a shameless lapdog. Carlisle calls me a twink, often blaming me for "turning him gay" and thus ruining his life.

However, when I finally choose to leave him, he looks at me with red-rimmed eyes and asks, "How can you say that you don't love me?"

I could hear voices from outside the bathroom stall. The group of rich heirs was making a lot of noise.

Meanwhile, I sat on the sink countertop inside the stall, every finger and toe of mine curled up. However, it wasn't because I was feeling good.

On the contrary, the only thing I could feel was excruciating pain.

Ever since Carlisle Grayson got drunk and slept with me three years ago, our relationship had changed from that between good friends into that of friends with benefits.

Carlisle often said that I was disgusting for liking men, as I was a man myself. He called me a twink. He hated me with all of his heart because I had supposedly turned him gay and ruined his life for him.

Yet, he never stopped sleeping with me and kept calling me over whenever he felt like it.

Every time we did it was like pure torture for me. It wasn't any different this time either, but I still willingly let him do whatever he wanted with me.

I stared at Carlisle's face, mesmerized, running the pad of my fingers lightly across his face as I was reluctant to shift my eyes away from him.

"You're so shameless, Brandon Westin!"

Carlisle reached out with his hand and covered my face in disgust. He often told me that he felt disgusted whenever he saw the face I made while he was doing me.

After he was done, Carlisle shoved me aside impatiently, as if he didn't want to continue touching me for even one second more if he could help it.

I was covered in a layer of sweat all over because I was in so much pain.

I hopped down from the countertop. However, I lost my balance and fell to the ground with a heavy thud.

The sound echoed loudly in the stall. Yet, Carlisle didn't even bother stopping in his tracks to check on me and left without looking back.

I shakily crawled to my feet and started cleaning myself, washing away the blood from my behind.

Carlisle was always very rough with me. He'd never care whether I was in any pain or if I'd get sick or hurt.

I just took my painkillers as usual and gingerly shuffled out of the bathroom like an awkward penguin to look for him.

The private room was somehow more lively than ever. When the