by LP Lovell
She thrusts her hips forward and my dick gets the slightest taste of her. I inhale and force her down on the desk, pinning both her hands back over her head. I rub over her breasts as I snake my hands down her body. I can’t wait the three seconds it will take to rip her fucking underwear off her. I push them to the side and shove my cock inside her tight, wet pussy, groaning as she grips me. I toss my head back, digging my fingers into her firm thighs. “Fuck, woman,” I hiss as I push into her deeper, just holding my cock there. Warm. Wet. Motherfucking tight. If I fucking move right now I may lose my shit.
She wiggles beneath me, her back bowing as she grips the edge of the desk. I drive into her so damn hard her body slides across the desk. Every time I push into her, she moves.
“Fuck,” I groan, wrapping my arms around her back and pulling her up.
She’s breathing so heavy. “What are you…” she gasps.
I eye the pair of underwear before I grab the sides and tear them from her. I’ve never been this desperate for a woman. All inhibitions are gone. This is nothing aside from a primitive need.
“I can’t fuck you deep enough like this,” I say as I drag her from the desk and pick her up. Her legs wrap around my waist as I thrust into her hard and deep. She moans and tosses her head back, her fingernails embedding themselves into my shoulders. She releases a heavy, sex-drunken groan, her eyes fluttering. I kiss down her neck, biting her every few seconds, and with each nip her nails grip me harder.
“Tell me you fucking want it, Tor,” I demand as I violently slam into her.
All she does is moan, and I stop, holding myself inside her and pressing into her as hard as I can. She grinds over me, trying to find release. I take the few steps it takes to slam her against the wall, pinning her so she can’t move. I’ll be damned if I’m not going to get what I fucking want.
I arch a brow and glare at her. “Fucking tell me.” She stares at me. It’s damn torture to hold myself in her, feeling her rhythmically contracting around me and not being able to fucking move. “Fucking say it!” I growl.
She fights against me, her hips bucking over me, and I press her harder into the wall. “Tell me.”
She locks her eyes with mine, her hands gripping the back of my head and pulling my face to hers. “I want you to fuck me like you paid for me.”
I lay into her, brutally fucking her against the wall. Within seconds she’s screaming, clawing at me like I’m taking her fucking life from her. Her pussy squeezes around my dick and I feel every muscle in my body tighten. Sweat beads on my forehead. My fingers grab at whatever part of her body they can find, and I bury my face in her neck, groaning as I come inside her.
Her legs slowly drop to the floor and we stand covered in the blood of a man that tried to kill her, sweaty and breathlessly pressed against one another. I grab her chin and force her to look at me. “The next time you slap me, I will hit you back. Don’t fucking test me.”
She yanks her chin out of my grip and pushes me away from her. “I may let you choke me, but hit me, and you’d best sleep with one eye open.” She scoops up her sweatpants, pulling them on without her underwear.
I glare at her as I pull my jeans up. “Don’t fucking slap me, and you won’t have anything to worry about.”
“Don’t be an arsehole, and I won’t slap you,” she huffs as she pulls on her stained top. Without her bra, her nipples are clearly visible through the thin material. She storms out of the office with a flick of her chocolate-colored hair.
I take a few hard steps into the hall. “Fucking losing your morals, huh? You think maybe showing your tits’ll get you fucked by my brother too?” I shout as she walks away. She doesn’t say anything, she just flips me the middle finger over her shoulder, her hips swaying defiantly as she disappears around the corner.
I inhale, my fists balling at my sides. I have to force my breaths to even out. That fucking woman gets under my skin like a damn rash. I turn and slam the door behind me so hard that the framing cracks. She does things to me no woman has ever done, and I almost hate her for it.
I’ve barely spoken to Jude for the last two days. I woke up this morning with him wrapped around me like a vine. My emotions are all over the place. I hate him, but I’m drawn to him. He tried to talk to me, but I’m so fucking angry at him, and I’m angry at myself. Jude could never be accused of being the understanding type, so in true Jude fashion he gave up after all of two sentences and left.
When did this become the norm? When did I stop finding this abhorrent? When did I stop finding him abhorrent?
I’m sitting on the bed watching a game with Caleb. I still have no idea what the hell is going on, no matter how many times Caleb tries to explain the rules to me.
“For the millionth fucking time, woman, it’s a penalty if you step out of bounds! That’s what the flag is for.” He throws his hands up in exasperation.
The door flies open and Jude steps in. “We’re going out. Move,” he commands before leaving the room.
“So cheery,” I mumble to Caleb.
He shrugs. “It’s Jude, what do you expect?”
True, very true.
A few minutes later and I’m following Caleb down the stairs. I still don’t like walking through this house, or being near his uncles. I can feel their eyes on me, watching me. I don’t feel safe unless I’m with Caleb or Jude.
Jude looks up with a glare. “You ready?”
“Yeah, calm down.” Caleb grumbles, grabbing a set of keys from the table we’re passing by.
I start to ask where we’re going, but I decide I’d rather not know because it’s not like I have a choice in the matter anyway. We go out to the car and I climb in the front passenger seat.
We’ve been driving for at least thirty minutes, and Jude does his usual strong and silent thing whilst Caleb and I bicker over the radio station.
“I am not listening to this grungy shit!” I shout at Caleb, elbowing him as he leans between the two front seats.
He laughs and grabs my arm, pinning it to my side. “Let me guess, you want some fluffy English crap?”
“English crap? Because of course, I’m British, therefore I must only listen to my own kind. Idiot.”
“Stop flirting with each other!” Jude reaches over and turns the station. He stops on some hard-core metal. “Shut the fuck up. Both of you.” He turns the volume up to the point I can feel my eardrums rattling in my head. Jude is drumming his hands over the steering wheel, nodding his head in beat with the music.
“Fucking degenerate thugs, the pair of you!” I shout over the music, crossing my arms over my chest.
He doesn’t look at me. He just turns it up even louder. Ass-hat. I turn my face to the window, dutifully ignoring him. The world outside is pitch black; there’s no moonlight, no street lights. Where the hell are we?
Jude takes a sharp right turn, and I slam up against the door from the sudden movement. The car bumps over the uneven road and I peer out the windshield, trying to see where in the hell we are going.
“Is that dirt? Are we on an unpaved road?” Oh, my god, he’s taking me out to the woods to bury me. I turn to Caleb. “If you let him kill me, I’m coming back to haunt you, fucker.”
He rolls his eyes and smiles.
Jude ignores me, still banging his hands over the steering wheel to the song.
Within minutes we’re pulling into a gravel lot. The building in front of us is nothing but painted cinder blocks, a Confederate flag tacked on the dented metal door. The entire lot is littered with motorcycles and a few pick-up trucks. There are several pudgy men in leather vests and bandanas standing to the side of the door, smoking cigarettes.
This is not a place I want to be.
Jude slams the gear into park and turns back to Caleb. “Don’t let her out. Don’t let anyone come up to the car either.”
Reaching under the seat, he pulls out a gun and hands it to Caleb. He reaches back, pulling his own gun from the waist of his jeans and placing a bu
llet in the chamber. “If I’m not out in fifteen minutes, you leave, got it, Caleb?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, he just opens the door, and I watch him walk up to the door and disappear inside.
I spin around to face Caleb. “What does he mean if he’s not out in fifteen minutes? What the hell is he doing? Why have you got a gun? Who does he think is going to come near the car?”
Caleb sighs as his eyebrows pull together in a frown. “You know not to ask questions, Ria.”
“He’s your brother, Caleb, go get him! Stupid arse.”
“You want me to go and get him. Seriously? You have met my brother, right?”
I sigh and slump back in the leather seat, crossing my arms over my chest.
The minutes seem to drag by as I wait for something to happen. I don’t know what I’m expecting, some kind of shoot-out. I glance nervously at Caleb, who has his finger over the trigger; he’s nervous too, fidgety as he stares at the front of the door.
“Come on, Jude,” Caleb mumbles. I glance at the clock and my stomach knots when I realize it’s already been ten minutes.
Just when I’m about to beg Caleb to go in there, the door swings open and out walks Jude. He comes around the front of the car, and he looks pissed. He slings the door open and slouches into the seat as he starts the car. He puts the car in reverse, the wheels spinning up dust as he backs out onto the dirt road.
“You call Marney and you tell him to have John Duglas killed. Fucker didn’t pay and now he’s pissed me off,” Jude growls, and slams his foot over the accelerator.
He grits his jaw and hunches slightly as he presses the pedal. I glance down, and in the dim light of the dashboard I can see a dark patch spreading over his right thigh. I slam the button for the interior light, and brush my fingers over the darkening patch. They come away sticky and red.
“Pull over!” I shout at him. Caleb leans forward between the two seats, glancing at the growing patch of blood on Jude’s thigh.
Jude shoots me a look of absolute defiance, then shifts the gear.
“Fucking pull over you crazy fucking dickhead!” I growl. I swear to god, he has a fucking screw loose.
“Do you want to die? Because if I pull over that just might happen. There’s a few guys pretty pissed at me back there, if you hadn’t noticed,” he says, his eyes darting down to his leg. “You know, stab wound and all.”
I look at the speedometer. We are going one-hundred miles per hour down this fucking gravel track. I shake my head, his entire thigh is now covered in blood. “You keep going and you’ll pass out and crash this fucking car. Pull over. Caleb, you drive!”
He winces, then groans. “I’m fine.”
“Jude,” Caleb starts.
“I swear to god, Jude, do not fucking push me right now!” I know I sound hysterical, because I am bloody hysterical.
He takes a hard left turn and the car fishtails; my entire body crashes up against the door, almost knocking the breath out of me. The tires scream as they hit pavement, and he speeds down the road, going well over one-hundred and ten now. The streetlights bounce off the metallic paint of the car hood and I can see the pain etching its way over his face.
“It’s just a cut. I’m not bleeding out for fuck’s sake, please shut up so I can think,” he yells, and I watch his knuckles turn white as he grips the steering wheel.
Stubborn arsehole. Fuck this. I undo my seat belt and lean into the back, snatching Caleb’s gun off the back seat where he left it. He moves to stop me, but I point it at him.
“Sit the fuck down, Caleb,” I snap.
He cocks an eyebrow, a nervous smile pulling at his lips as he holds his hands up. I turn and point the gun at Jude. I don’t put my finger over the trigger, because quite frankly, I’m more likely to shoot myself than him.
“Pull. The fuck. Over.”
His jaw twitches and he glares at me from the corner of his eye. “You’re gonna shoot me if I don’t? You’re a fucking lunatic. You put the damned gun down right now, or…” He winces from the pain that must be shooting up his leg.
“I am so not fucking around right now. I don’t give a fuck whether you bleed out. I just don’t want you taking us out with you. Now pull the car over, you selfish fuck.”
With a sudden movement, he grips the barrel of the gun and snatches it from my hands, flipping it around so that it’s now aimed at me as he’s driving. “Don’t fuck with me. I’ll pull over in just a minute when I find a place we won’t get shot in, okay?”
I glare at him. His face has gone pale and a deep frown has etched onto his features. He’s losing blood, and as much as he likes to think he’s invincible, he’s clearly feeling it.
“You’re being unreasonable,” I huff.
The car swerves into a petrol station parking lot and he shoves the gear into park. “Caleb, hurry the fuck up and get in,” Jude groans, grabbing his leg as he lifts himself out of the driver’s seat with a grimace. He opens the back door and lays down across the leather seat. He punches the back of the seat and shouts. Caleb puts the car in gear and pulls away.
I turn around and squeeze myself between the front seats, perching on the edge of the back seat next to Jude. I turn on the interior light for the back and quickly find the tear in his jeans where the blade went in. I rip the material open to reveal the bloody mess that is his leg. He grits his teeth, and his leg twitches.
“Hold still,” I tell him.
“Don’t fucking touch it and I’ll be still,” he says, and jerks his leg away.
“Man up, Jude. It’s just a scratch. Jesus.” I look more closely at the wound, which is still bleeding, but not too much.
His eyes narrow and harden on me as he bites down on his bottom lip. I know he wants to curse at me, but all he does is pull in a heavy breath and groan.
“Caleb, do you have a cloth or anything in here?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Don’t think so.”
I roll my eyes. Helpful. I yank my jumper over my head and wad it up, pressing it against his leg. He lets out a stream of curse words as I push down on the wound.
Grabbing my ponytail, he yanks my face down toward his. “That’s not a fucking scratch, and it fucking hurts!”
“You’re being a baby,” I say slowly, and he pulls harder on my hair. “Five minutes and we’ll be home. I’ll stitch you up and find you some painkillers, okay?” I hope it’s only five minutes, because he’s still losing blood, and due to the fact that he wouldn’t pull over earlier, it means that he’s now lost a lot.
“What the hell happened, Jude?” Caleb calls from the front.
Jude sucks in a breath. “He didn’t have the money. Again.” We hit a pothole and the sudden pressure on his leg makes him groan. “I threatened him and he didn’t like it. I guess he figured stabbing me would show me he was serious. Well”—his breathing is falling uneven now—“he fucked with the wrong person.”
By the time we get back to the house, the backseat is saturated with blood and Jude is drifting in and out of consciousness. Caleb manages to pick him up, but even then I have to help him with Jude’s massive weight. Jesus, what the fuck does he do to weigh this much?
As soon as we walk through the door, the house is a flurry of activity with serious faces all around. I guess it’s not often that Jude gets stabbed.
Once he’s in their medical room, I’m shouting at Caleb for various supplies. Much to my surprise, they have a stockpile of medication. I inject him with Morphine before looking at his leg. The wound is deep but clean, a simple clean-and-stitch job. The painkillers knock him out pretty quickly, leaving me to stitch his leg easily.
After I’ve cleaned his wound up, a couple of the guys take Jude upstairs and put him on his bed. They flash me wary looks but leave the room when Caleb ushers them out. They still don’t trust me, and I don’t trust them. Maybe they think I’m going to kill Jude. A couple of weeks ago I might have, but now...now things are different. Twisted. Warped. Wrong, maybe, but I won’t kill him.
/> Caleb squeezes my shoulder once before leaving the room. At least he trusts me. Jesus, if I was going to kill him I would have done it by now. Okay, so there was the time I held a razor to his throat in his sleep, but, well, we know how that ended.
I cover him with the duvet before heading to the bathroom.
“Tor.”
I spin around. His eyes are half-open, and his head is turned on the pillow.
“Are you okay?” I ask quickly, worried that he’s in pain.
He smiles and pats the bed next to him. “Come sleep.” His voice is slurred, and he sounds drunk.
“I just need to wee, and then I’ll come to bed.”
“Wee.” He laughs, impersonating a British accent, which he still sucks at. “You sound so girly...and British.” This is so not Jude, the drugs must be working a treat.
I shake my head and go to the bathroom, leaving him chuckling to himself.
When I get back his eyes are shut and I think he’s asleep, until I get into bed.
“You’re back.” He smiles and swats at me.
I sit on the bed with my back to the pillows. “I’m back.” I have to force the giggle down my throat.
He twists his head to the side and looks up at me, pinching a stray piece of hair that’s fallen over my shoulder.
“So pretty, Tor. Pretty and innocent and British.” I try hard not to smile, because never in my wildest dreams did I ever think Jude could be cute, but he is so bloody cute when he’s drugged up. “You have a sexy voice.” He grins at me.
I glance away from him and cover my mouth with my hand, trying not to laugh. “Is that so?”
He closes his eyes and falls back against the pillows. “Mmm. And you have a dirty mouth.” He trails a finger along my bottom lip, his eyes intently staring at them. “I like you.” His eyes lull shut then pop back open, and he clears his throat. “I like your mouth, I mean. I like it so much I think you should stick my cock in it.” He laughs again and his hand drops to the bed beside him like dead weight.
