Drop Dead Queen (Corium University Trilogy 2)

“I’m more than thankful, and you know it,” I say.

“No, not yet, you aren’t, but by the time I get done with you, you will be.”

“I’m not having sex with you, Quinton, so you can leave.”

“You’ll do whatever the hell I say, and not because I tell you to, but because deep down you want this too. You want my cock inside you. You want me to fuck you like I hate you, so you can justify this fucked up relationship we’ve developed. I know because I want it too. I want to fuck you until I don’t remember who we are.”

Fuck, this shit is getting too deep, and I don’t have the emotional capacity to deal with it right now.

Jumping off the bed, I announce, “Fine, if it gets you to stop undressing and talking, I’ll go.”

I know I’ve fed right into his hands when his smile turns wicked. This man has no shame. I shouldn’t go with him. I should just let him fuck me and send him on his way, but I don’t want that.

I don’t want him to fuck me and discard me like I’m nothing, and knowing I feel that way is more terrifying than anything because it means…

I don’t allow myself to finish the thought. I grab the bag off the bed. “Wait in the hall.”

I’m not surprised when he does the opposite and instead leans against the nearest wall. “Shut up and get dressed. I’ve literally fucked your pussy, licked it, and come inside you all in the same night. I can handle watching you get dressed.”

I roll my eyes and ignore every word he just said. He is going to be the death of me, I swear. I should be shy about undressing in front of him, but I’m not. He’s seen parts of me no one else has; he’s touched me and licked me in places… Jesus, I cannot think about that right now. My cheeks burn at the memories ingrained there.

I tug my oversized T-shirt off over my head and toss it on the bed. Then I rip the bag open and find a silky white dress inside. The fabric looks sheer, but when I hold it up in front of me, I find it’s not. I’m thankful I hadn’t taken my bra off yet. It’s easy to ignore Quinton’s presence, but not when he’s staring daggers through you.

I’m just about to pull the dress on over my head when I hear a growl being emitted from across the room. I think maybe I’m hearing things, but then Quinton is headed right toward me, his steps echoing around the small space. Every muscle in my body tenses as I prepare for the wrath that is clearly written on his face.

He’s a foot away when he stops, and I flinch at the touch of his fingertips ghosting over my skin. I look into his face, which is contorted with rage—his jaw tight, and his lip curled.

“Who did this to you?” Venom drips from his words.

I shake my head and look down at the bruises Matteo left on my skin. They’re no longer purple, but a smattering of yellow and black. The lump in my throat grows tenfold.

“No one.” The lie rolls easily off my tongue. “I fell.” I don’t need Quinton to fight my battles, I remind myself.

I’m not sure it’s possible, but it seems his features have darkened more. He laughs, but the sound that comes out of his mouth is anything but that of a jolly, happy laugh. No, this laughter is filled with violence and rage.

“I am not fucking stupid. You don’t get bruises like this from falling.” He pauses, and though his voice is sharp as a knife, his touch is incredibly gentle.

I’ve never seen this side of him. Yes, he’s been territorial before and even possessive, but he’s never shown he truly cared outside of making sure I could take his cock once a week.

“I’m fine. Nothing happened.”

“Why won’t you tell me who did this to you?”

I nibble on my lip a second longer than I should. Hesitation is not what I need. “I don’t need you to protect me,” I half-lie. I wish I didn’t need him at all, but we both know that Quinton has been a gatekeeper to who knows what Matteo has planned. “But most of all, you getting involved would just make it worse. He already hates me.”

His hand drops, and a shiver slithers down my spine. It’s stupid, but I crave his touch more than I hate it. I crave his attention, even if it’s bad. I crave his comfort, even if he’s the one causing me distress.

“Fine. Don’t tell me,” he barks, but I’m pretty sure he’s figured out who he is all by himself.

Hopefully, he’ll just let it go this time. I don’t want anyone fighting because of me. I take that moment to change the subject and get back to putting the dress on.