Alyssa

Isaac's gaze rakes over me, his mouth twisting with disgust. I know exactly what he's thinking. Tight clothes, makeup—things he always despised. Not because he cared about how I looked, but because I wasn't what he wanted. I realize now that no matter how hard I tried back then, I'd never be 6'2", muscular, and hung like a goddamn horse ready to shove my cock into his ass and mouth—you know, like the fantasies he hates himself for.

I cross my arms over my chest, ...