Page 14 of Toxic

A good person wouldn’t have let him kiss them in the firstplace.

His tongue finds my ear again with startling precision. I’ve always had very sensitive ears, and one hot, harsh breath undoes any of the ragged reasoning I was piecing together. Shocks dance along my nerve endings as the sound of his harsh breathing surrounds me, envelops me. My hands cling to his shoulders with a bruising grip that he doesn’t even seem to mind. I give a passing thought to his injuries, to asking if they’re okay—not that his hand over my mouth would let me—and then he shifts, angling his hips upward in such a way that the bulbous head of his cock hits my clit at just the right angle, making my world burstapart.

I forget convention, forget the rules, forget expectations. I even ignore the law. The laws that say I shouldn’t touch this man. Shouldn’t encourage his attention. Forget that he’s my patient. That he’s a convictedfelon.

A dark and dirty side of me emerges, and instead of pushing him away, I use my legs to pull him closer. He grunts in my ear, a harsh, sexy sound, and I arch my back, spreading my legs as far as they’ll go to accommodate his hips. My thighs burn, and my hips ache at the wide angle, but none of that matters as the warmth grows inside me. I become a wild, mindless thing, and all I know is Iwantmore.

Morepressure.

Morecloseness.

More aching, filthy,rawness.

His teeth leave marks where they bite into my shoulder to contain his sounds of satisfaction, his fingers are near-bruising on my mouth. I taste blood from where my teeth gouge mylowerlip.

Then he’s whispering into my ear, his voice like the devil himself. “You want it. You want it so fucking bad I can almosttasteit.”

Needy, animal sounds are my onlyanswer.

“I wanna give it to you, Tessa.” The tempo of his hips slows, and I nearly scream. “Let me give ittoyou.”

I would have if he hadn’t pulled his hand away from my mouth and replaced it with his own. Then his tongue becomes a metaphor for his cock as they thrust intandem.

I forget how to breathe. How to speak. How to think. How to care about anything but the steady drive of Gracin's length against me, his mouthagainstmine.

I didn’t know anything could feelsogood.

Then he wedges a hand behind my back, forcing my hips to tilt at the same moment one of the nurses laughs outside, just outside theunlockeddoor. . .

All the bad and all the wrong floods back in, and then his hand is at my throat, causing sparks to dance in front of my eyes. The hard, keen edge of pleasure cuts through me, and my head kicks back, slamming into the wall right before he swallows my long, silentscream.

I come down in waves and awareness flickers—hyper-focused on his hard length still pulsing against me. That’s a feeling I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget. He’s thick and long, and the hollowness inside me calls out for him to fill it. My mouth waters with it, even as the come down from the orgasm cools my lust. Following that, his arms are now around my waist, holding me to him—almost...tenderly, or what tenderly would be likeforhim.

Then, I hear the nursesagain.

Their voices are low but discernible; their conversation is about some television show or another—an ordinary conversation, as if the world hasn’t just shifted onitsaxis.

Gracin is watching me with those attentive eyes, and I have no doubt he’s seen the progression of emotions flash across my face. He sees too much. Understandstoomuch.

My body, which had just been red-hot, cools and with it comes thehorror.

Oh, God, what did Ijustdo?

I’ve had exactlytwo one-night stands in my life, and this is almost exactly how I felt after them, only infinitely worse. The high from the illicit edge is delicious on the rise and mortifying on the fall. Like the man himself, it’s both horrifying and addictive. He’s a drug personified. Adeadlyone.

I can feel the wrongness of what we did more efficiently than a vicious punch to the solar plexus. I’d almost prefer one. Violence is easy comparedtothis.

The wetness between my legs causes my underwear to cling, sparking an uncomfortable awareness of just how much I fucked up as Gracin backs away enough for my feet to drop back to the ground. Heat burns my cheeks and then drains away, leaving me cold and shaken and all toolucid.

I shift from foot to foot, trying to figure out what my next move should be and wince at the remaining ache from how wide he spread my hips to accommodate him. There aren’t words. The indecision isparalyzing.

What the hell do you do after such a monumentalfuckup?

The steady throbbing ache inside me still craves to be filled, even as shame threatens to drop me to my knees. I didn’t feel this bad the first time Vic beat me.The trembling in my fingers intensifies as shock fades and horror follows initswake.

He tips my face up with a finger, and my neck throbs in response, blood rushing to the place where his hand had been only seconds earlier. Vic has done that so many times before, but I’d never told anyone what I let him do to me. Baring my shame this way hurts deep inside, and I want to run. My eyes want to fill with tears, which I desperately try to lock up until I make it out of this room. I repeat that in a constant refrain. I’ll be okay as long as I can make it out ofthisroom.

I open my mouth to speak, but what can I say? I literally asked for it. Whatever repercussions come from what just happened, the only one I can fault is myself. When no words come, I skirt around him, subtly adjusting my clothes, the uncomfortable warmth of mortification covering me like a blanket, even though the center of me feels soverycold.