Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
“Literally a blood-soaked shirt?” I lift a brow. “I threw it in the trash.”
He mumbles something under his breath as he throws the door open and shouts for his brother to grab a medical kit. I see Caleb run off just before I step inside.
Jude shoots me another nasty glare as he sinks to the recliner. “I didn’t ask for your damn shirt.”
“I didn’t ask for your shitty fucking attitude, but here we are.”
He lifts a middle finger. “In a language you can understand…”
I fight a smile. He’s such a dick, but…
“What the hell happened?” Caleb rounds the corner. “I thought you were just going to pick up some money?”
“I was. But some people are stupid fuckasses who think stabbing me in the thigh is gonna save them ten grand.”
I pluck the kit from Caleb’s hand before he can open it. If the job he did on my neck is anything to go by, I should stitch him up. Not that I imagine Jude gives a shit about scars. I bend over, and Jude scowls at my tits before turning his expression on his brother. “Caleb, get out,” he grumbles, and I bite back a laugh as poor Caleb leaves.
“Caleb isn’t even looking.” I roll my eyes at the caveman. “He’s not like that.”
Jude snorts. “Oh, trust me, he’s like that.”
I cut his jeans away, and my God does he bitch when I jab the needle into his leg. Without anesthetic. It takes all of five minutes to stitch up the gash, and almost as soon as I cut the thread, Jude’s pushing out of the chair.
“It needs dressing!”
“It’s a fucking stab wound, not Thanksgiving dinner.”
“You know what, fuck you, Jude. I’m trying to help you. You wouldn’t even let me drive! Had to swing your dick around and drive home while you're bleeding everywhere.” I toss something at him. Scissors, I realize when he swats them away. Oh, shit. He’s turning me into a damn psycho just like him. I’m not an angry person. I’m not. Before I can apologize, he’s up, his hand around my throat as he pins me on the sofa beneath him.
“Did you just throw scissors at me, woman?”
Adrenaline fires through me at the sudden movement. I could apologize. I could– my gaze flicks to his lips–but, a sick part of me likes him angry. “Obviously.” I lift a brow. “And what are you going to do about it?” It’s a red rag to a bull.
His fingers tighten on my throat and the flash of a smile crosses his face before his teeth scrape my jaw. “So fucking much.” He rips my bra down, groping my breasts as he bites and sucks at my neck. My back arches, my sensitive nipples brushing against his shirt. I’m not giving him a chance to find whatever small moral compass he seems to have been clinging to. I grab the waist of my jeans and shove them down.
“Fuck.” He grabs my legs, spreading them as he pulls his dick out of his boxers. “Do you want me to fuck you hard, Tor?” He yanks my underwear off, then leans down to swipe his tongue over my wet slit.
“You know I do,” I moan.
He circles my clit, and I claw at his shoulders, his hair, anything I can reach. Then his lips are on mine, forcing the taste of my pussy into my mouth. Without warning, his dick slams inside me. To the hilt. At the bite of pain, I realize I underestimated his sheer size.
“Fuck…” He buries himself deeper. “Your pussy…” I try to scoot away, but he fists my hair, holding me in place on a groan. “Oh, no, doll. You aren’t going any-fucking-where.” Then he shoves my legs beside my ears, picking up his pace as he drives into me like he’s punishing me. Something warm and wet meets the back of my thigh. I glance down at the blood spreading over the thigh of his jeans. I don’t even care that he’s ripped his stitches. And he’s so focused on driving into my pussy, he either doesn’t feel it, or doesn’t give a shit.
He sits back on his heels, smirking down at me as he pulls out, then barely pushes back in. In and out. In and out. Not enough. My ass presses into the couch cushion, seeking more depth as my hands fists the throw pillows.
“What’s the matter?” he asks, his thumb circling my swollen clit. “Wanna come?”
“Jude…”
A cruel smile curls his lips. “Beg me.”
I cross my ankles behind his back and I try to pull him into me. His palm lands on my throat and he pins me down. “I said, beg me, Tor.”
I thrash against him. “Just fuck me.” Another shallow thrust and I rake my nails down his chest hard enough to draw angry lines over his skin. “Jude!”