Wicked Love

by Michelle Dare

  Micaela: I’ll be with the girls tonight. You don’t need to come over. I’ll see you in the morning.

  “Sounds good.” We eat our lunch, chatting about guys. Tamika seems to be crushing hard on Keirin, but she’s scared of getting involved with him. Miriam joins us moments later, and soon, we’re all giggling about hot guys and pedicures. For the first time in a long while, I feel just like any other girl.

  “So, when are you and Creed doing the dirty?” Miriam laughs, as Paula slinks into the seat beside me. Three sets of eyes are on me. I can feel them burning holes right through my shell, trying to find out more than I’m willing to admit.

  “I don’t know. We’re taking things slow. I just got out of a nasty relationship back home, and I’m not ready to dive headfirst into anything serious with another guy.”

  “You do know Creed is one of those guys you can’t put off for very long.”

  “He’s a horn dog,” Paula agrees, nodding wildly, as her ponytail bounces. Each girl is so different, with her own style and personality. But we just seem to match perfectly.

  Like Creed and me.

  The thought comes unbidden to my mind, and for a second, I allow it to settle. I don’t hate it as much as the night my father told me I have to be with Creed. Now that I’ve made my choice in the matter, I feel less worried. I don’t feel as if I’m a pawn in a game.

  And the fact that Creed has accepted my terms and respected my wishes makes a difference in how I feel. Still, learning about a man like him has been tough. There most definitely is a darkness in him. Something I can’t yet delve into, but I know one day, I’m going to have to allow myself to ask about his past.

  “I know, guys will be guys,” I tell my friends. “But he’s been good. And he knows if he tried some shit, I’d walk.”

  “That’s good,” Miriam says. “Don’t let him fool you with sweet words and expensive gifts.” There’s a hint of anger in her words, and I wonder briefly if she’s speaking from experience. But I don’t have a chance to ask when I notice the time, and I know we have to get back inside.

  We part ways since all of us have different classes, and before I get to mine, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Creed’s response makes me smile.

  Creed: As long as it’s just the girls. I don’t like to share.

  We’ve both had our qualms about this, but I’ve convinced him I’m not a cheater, and I’m not. When I told Creed I’d be willing to give us a try, I meant it.

  And he hasn’t been out with the guys, not even when his brothers have gone to the town over to house parties. He’s been good, attentive, but deep down, my fear of what Devon did to me still plagues me.

  My phone vibrates after I turned off the ringer. And it’s another message from Creed, which I quickly scan before racing into class.

  Creed: And I want my nightly phone call. Or else . . .

  Each night he doesn’t stay over at mine or me at his, we’ve spent hours on the phone. It’s only been a week and a half, but with all the time we’ve invested so far, it feels much longer. In a good way.

  I quickly tap out my response, Always, Mr. Haven. Always, and hit send before I settle into my seat and get out my notebooks. English Lit is my favorite class and learning about all the books Creed has in his library gives me an advantage because his knowledge of literature is astounding. And some nights, I can listen to him read to me and fall asleep in his arms.

  But the girls are right. I can’t put off sex with him for too long. Not only because he’ll start getting antsy, but because I am. No matter how much I wanted to deny it and how much I now fight it, I want Creed. And I’m going to have to indulge in the man who’s caught my attention very soon, or I may run out of batteries for my vibrator.

  “Are you listening to me?” Creed asks, causing me to snap my attention back to him. I’d been lost in thought, watching him lift boxes onto the truck parked outside my apartment block. My father was adamant that I had to move into the Haven home. Even if I don’t want to sleep in his bed, I’ll be able to have my own space. But I believe I’ll be beside him every night without a doubt.

  “Yes, of course.” I shrug, making my way into the bedroom the movers have already emptied. My life has been packed up into a truck, and I’m no longer living on my own. I doubt I’ll miss the apartment, but I will miss the freedom it offered.

  The door shuts behind me, causing me to turn to find Creed leaning against the wooden surface. His gaze tracks me, from my Chucks to my messy red bun sitting on top of my head.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Come here,” he says, crooking his finger at me, and my feet have a life of their own. Once I’m inches from him, his hands grip my hips, pulling me closer until I’m practically part of him. “I want you.”

  “Now?” My incredulous tone causes him to chuckle. “Here? The men are—”

  “They’re gone. I’ve just told them to meet us at the house.” There’s no arguing because his expression is filled with conviction.

  “There’s no bed.”

  “I don’t need a bed to make you scream my name,” he tells me. “Also, since you’re moving, the neighbors won’t know who we are after today.”

  Creed spins us around until my back is flush with the door. His hands grip my ass, lifting me against him, before pinning me between the cool surface and his hot, rigid body.

  “Can you feel that?” he questions, before rolling his hips against my core. A whimper of need falls from my lips when my clit throbs for more friction, but Creed doesn’t give it to me. “That’s what you do to me.”

  “Oh really? And what are you going to do with that, Creed?” I’m challenging him because it’s been far too long since I’ve been fucked, and right now, I want it. I crave it.

  His hand trails from my ass, lifting the soft material of my skirt, to find my panties. Those fingers that have taunted me nightly for the past two weeks torture me right now as he strokes my entrance gently.

  “Creed, please,” I beg, my head falling back against the door as he pushes past the material of my panties to find me soaked. Gently, he removes his hand and sets me down. I watch as deft fingers undo his jeans, and soon, his thick erection is jutting out toward me.

  Not so long ago, I had him in my palm, but that night, I wanted to rip his precious crown jewels from his body. Right now, I want to stroke him and watch as pleasure skitters across his skin.

  “I need to be inside you,” he grunts when I jerk his cock, teasing the tip with my thumb. “If you keep that up, I’m going to fucking mark that pretty skirt of yours.”

  I release him, allowing him to lift me again. My legs wrap around his waist, and Creed shoves my panties to the side. The cool air on my heated center causes me to shiver. Gently, ever so fucking slowly, he inches into me. We had the tests, we had the talk, and since I’m on the pill, I need to feel him just like this—bare.

  I claw my nails into his shoulders, earning me another dark rumble, and then he’s buried inside me. To the hilt. The thickness of him spreads me open, causing me to wince as pained pleasure shoots through me.

  He moves, pulling out, then slams back in. His body thrusts deep into me, filling me to the hilt. Creed’s cock takes up every inch of emptiness in my body. He fills the very gaping hole of my loneliness that has haunted me for so long. I can’t be sure of love, or forever because I don’t feel that yet. But for now, I enjoy him as much as he offers. He fucks me hard. He fucks me roughly. His fingers digging into the flesh of my ass as he holds me up. And my nails drag down his back, enjoying the feel of his flesh. And I’m sure if I looked, there’d be red slashes down his smooth, unmarred skin.

  But I don’t care.

  He hits deep.

  The pain.

  The pleasure.

  Sends me fucking soaring, and I do cry out his name. I moan it and whimper it and mewl it. I worship it because, in that moment, he’s everything to me.

  “I’ll never let you go,” he promises, as he grunts
his release inside me, marking me from the inside out.

  THE END… for now…

  If you want to venture back to Thorne Haven, dive into A Cut so Deep and meet Damien Thorne and his Wild Rose which is available on Amazon!

  Acknowledgments

  A huge thank you to the lovely team at Forever Romance for including me in this epic collection of stories alongside some amazing authors! I’m excited, and humbled to be a part of such a wonderful anthology.

  I’m so excited to have introduced you to Creed and his little mouse, Micaela. This will not be the end for them, and you’ll also be meeting the other boys, Brody and Keirin soon! The world of Thorne Haven is still full of secrets to uncover. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this short journey.

  To my editor, Candice Royer, thank you for always polishing my words on short notice.

  To my lovely proofer, Rebecca Barney, you rock my world lady! I know you fell in love with Thorne Haven, and I’m so thankful for your input.

  To my readers, thank you for always being there for me. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be living my dream, bringing you stories that you can fall in love with.

  And to all the bloggers who love and support me, thank you so much! You are invaluable with everything you do.

  Mad love,

  Dani xo

  About Dani René

  Dani is a USA Today Bestselling Author of a dark and deviant romance. She lives in the picturesque city of Cape Town where wine is plenty, and the views are spectacular. She's also a proud member of the Romance Writer's Organization of South Africa (ROSA). When she's not writing, she can be found binge-watching the latest TV series, or working on graphic design. She has a healthy addiction to reading, tattoos, coffee, and ice cream.

  www.danirene.com

  info@danirene.com

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  Voodoo Love

  JD Hollyfield

  Lust, deception and voodoo magic.

  Beware of what you wish for, wicked one.

  It just may come true...

  Copyright

  Voodoo Love

  Copyright © 2020 J.D. Hollyfield

  Editor: Word Nerd Editing

  Proofreader: Novel Mechanic

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  To Gina.

  Thanks for being my three of cups on this one.

  1

  Dry.

  Like the Sahara Desert.

  My eyelids can’t even muster enough moisture to open them. I’ve cried so much over the last two weeks, there isn’t anything left. So now, I lie in bed—our bed—my eyelids stuck shut, not a single tear left in me, and pretend everyone has forgotten about me as I wither away in self-pity and denial.

  Six years.

  Four of those dating, and two spent as his fiancée. Only to find out on the night of our rehearsal dinner he’s been cheating our entire relationship.

  There was no “oh shit, I just got caught” moment, either. No begging for forgiveness. There was only relief he didn’t have to live two lives anymore. He wasn’t sorry he completely crushed my world and ripped the rug out from under me and tainted every single memory we’ve ever made.

  That lying, cheating, piece of shit bastard was relieved.

  Okay, maybe the dam’s not completely dry. Wetness begins to leak from my swollen eyes.

  Six years ago, we met at Marlin’s Park at a baseball game. He was sitting in front of me, rooting for the opposite team. The sun was blazing, the beer was flowing, and before we knew it, his friends were flirting with my friends and we were…well, we were in the public bathroom having the best random, rivalry sex. We talked shit the entire time he had me pressed up against the nasty public stall as he fucked me into oblivion.

  It was hot, drunken, totally-out-of-character-for-me—did I mention hot?—sex.

  You can judge me. I judged me. Who the hell meets a guy and spreads her legs four innings later for a hot, muscular, terrible-taste-in-sports stranger to ram her so good, the players in the outfield may have heard her moan? Me. That’s who. Because I was young and careless. And he was like no one I’d ever met.

  Now I wish he was no one I’d ever met.

  Our one-day stand turned into multiple days and a shared apartment, dog, and mutual friends. Everything had fallen perfectly into place for us. We had similar interests, and where we differed made us stronger. He had his designated areas in the apartment where he could put his sports memorabilia, and I had mine. We worked. We were happy. We were in love. Or so I thought.

  As they say, time flies when you’re having fun. Four years zoomed by. Not that it was all bells and whistles. Like any couple, we started to learn what didn’t work for us. One was messy, while the other was overly tidy. One worked all the time, while the other spent too many nights sitting around watching dinners turn cold. And out of nowhere…time slowed down. I guess we weren’t having fun anymore.

  I started becoming jealous of his busy work life and his work buddies he spent more time with than me. We fought about him not making time for me, and he’d argue his job was what would secure our future. In my head, I had to ask what future? I barely ever saw him and we weren’t having sex as much anymore. To be honest, his interest in me had taken a dive, and I’m an idiot not to have seen the signs earlier.

  You know, if your younger self knew what your older self knew now, she’d tell that naive idiot to run for the fucking hills—fast.

  But I wasn’t very athletic, so I stuck around. I hid behind all the neon signs and played dumb. Because I wanted our happily ever after.

  The first time he got physical with me was the first time I accused him of cheating. He’d left his phone out, and when I went to grab it to read the incoming text, he pushed me. Pushed me. I stumbled back and fell into the coffee table, severely bruising my tailbone. He realized his mistake too late and spent the entire night explaining why he panicked and put his hands on me for checking his phone.

  “Are you cheating on me?”

  “What? No! Why would you think that?”

  “Why did you get like that when I was going to check your phone? What are you hiding?”

  “Babe, nothing. It’s just…I’m setting up a surprise for you and didn’t want you to ruin it.”

  Anyone want to guess how many surprises I almost ruined? Too damn many. He really should have been a bit more creative with his lame excuses.

  And then there were all the war wounds from his temper. The countless number of bruises on my arms from when he handled me too roughly, to the sprained ankle when his anger was in full force and pushed me down our stairs. He was sorry. He was stressed at work. He didn’t mean it. He loved me so much, it made him crazy. His weak apologies were like cheap band aids barely covering the damages he inflicted.

  I never pictured myself in a relationship where violence was a concern. I never imagined I would lower myself to make excuses for a man I clearly knew was cheating. But my heart seemed to hate me, and I listened to it, so I kept on keeping on, staying with a man who was violent, n
ot in love with me, and unfaithful.

  I wanted to stay. I wanted to take the hits just to keep him. How stupid was I to confuse abuse with love? Four years into our relationship, I finally decided to call it quits. I’d been beaten and battered. Broken down mentally and physically. And I couldn’t lie to my friends and family any longer.

  But James was a predator. He could smell out my fear, panic. He always knew when I was ready to run, and he was always ready to make me stay. Maybe that’s why he pinged me that day at the stadium. He saw a weak girl who just wanted to be loved—one who would endure anything to have it.

  Weakness is not a crime, but it should be. Why the hell did I think him putting a ring on my finger would change him? I was too caught up in a fairytale, thinking he had to love me if he wanted to marry me, that things would get better. Hello? Didn’t anyone else’s momma embed in them you can’t teach an old dog new tricks? Mine sure as hell did. So when I said yes, with overjoyed tears running down my cheeks, I knew…I had finally lost my last marble.

  The wedding planning kept me happy and busy. The wedding planning also kept him busier at work and away. Keeping up? Nothing changed. It just went more under my nose because I was in La La Land, picking out flowers and cake flavors.

  The night of our rehearsal dinner was when our barely held together life snapped in half. That dam cracked and flooded my entire being, washing away my blinders. During dinner speeches, his mistress showed up, making a scene about him being a cheater and being caught. The ringer was: I wasn’t the other woman she was referring to. There were more. And more. I ran out of fingers and toes keeping track of all the names. He wasn’t just cheating on me, he was cheating on the whole damn town!