Page 68 of Sweet Venom

I thought he was intense a moment ago, but now his face looks taut, and his hand lands on my shoulder as the strap falls to my arm. “Did you just say fuck?”

I gulp. His voice sounds so low, it tightens my stomach with that uncomfortable feeling again.

“Answer me. Did you wear makeup and thisthing—” He tightens his grip on the strap. “—to seduce the four-eyed asshole so he’d fuck you?”

“So what if I did? I told you that’s none of?—”

His knee slides between my legs, pressing up against my core that’s been aching since he showed up. I grab onto the wall with both hands, my bag slipping down to the floor, its contents clanking on the tiles.

“Do you believe that little fucker would give you what you want? What you need?” His lips hover so close to mine, if I just tilt forward?—

No. What the hell am I thinking?

“He might not be filthy rich or a popular athlete, but at least he’s not a murderous stalker,” I say with a miniscule bravado. “He also happens to be my type.”

He doesn’t like that last bit, not even a little, because he’s increasing the pressure against my core, and I’m spiraling.

Because should it feel so damn good?

“Your type, huh?”

“Yeah. I prefer nerdy, normal guys.”

“You’ll prefer whoever the fuck I tell you to.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Fuck how it works.” He moves his hand to my nape and fists my hair, forcing my head back as he slides his knee back and forth, back and forth.

The friction is maddening, pulling at the same strings from the other night. Dark pleasure I don’t want to give in to mounts and mounts until I’m delirious.

“You’ll do as you’re told.” The low growl of his voice makes me shudder.

I glare at him. “Get a pet for that.”

“I have you, so why bother?”

“Just get out of my life, Jude! You don’t get to invade my space, then disappear and reappear as you wish. Just let me fucking be!”

“We’re making progress if I’m disturbing you to the point that you’re yelling.” He rubs his knee against my pants and I purse my lips, fighting, trying my best not to succumb to these strange feelings.

I know he can feel how hot I am, even though clothes separate our skin.

And I don’t want to give him the pleasure of seeing me like this.

But as the pressure mounts, my hips jerk uncontrollably, stirring a type of abandon I didn’t know sex offered.

My feelings and perception of sex are skewed. Maybe because I witnessed it my whole childhood in a negative light, where men used a woman, not caring how she felt. Or because it was transactional. Or because the men I’ve had sex with have never made me feel worshiped.

But, at any rate, my first real pleasure was on that kitchencounter, and my body’s felt awakened ever since, thirsting for…more.

After that time, darker fantasies I used to repress invaded my dreams and in all of them, there were these dark-brown eyes. I wanted to write about them so bad, but knowing Jude would find my most embarrassing thoughts and moments, I just kept them in my subconscious.

My dreams.

But it doesn’t help when he corners me—it triggers those illicit fantasies.

The need for something.