The Wrong Kind of Love

“A couple of nights ago, you were trying to slit my jugular with a disposable BIC….”

“Yeah. Well...you deserved it.” Her chest brushes against my arm when she presses up on tiptoes and places the paper on my jaw. The material of her shirt is thin enough I can’t ignore her nipples, and my dick reacts.

I latch onto her wrist to stop her from doctoring my face before she notices what’s going on beneath my towel. “I can handle a little blood.”

She ducks her chin and the blush on her cheeks is fuck-me-red, but she still hasn’t made an effort to pull away.

The longer we stare at each other, the more I fantasize about grabbing her by the waist, bending her over the vanity, and sinking my dick into her. A twisted form of sexual electricity charges the air between us, growing just like my cock.

“I’ll go….” Her gaze drops to the floor, and there’s no way she could have missed the bulge under my towel.

As messed up as this is, part of me wants to tell her to look at what she does to me then tell her to get on her knees and fix it, but before I can, she slips out of my hold and exits the bathroom.

She’s gone when I come out a few minutes later and so is the burner phone I left on the dresser. Like a fucking idiot. I pull on a pair of jeans on my way into the hall. God, I’m going to kill her. “Tor. Don’t you use that fucking phone!” I shout, my voice echoing through the foyer as I descend the stairs.

“You’re sorry? You're a spineless cunt, Euan...”

Heat floods my body. She called that sick son of a bitch.

I follow her voice down the hall to the laundry room, catching her just as she hangs up. “Are you fucking serious?” I snatch her arm and yank her back a step. That phone is untraceable, but she doesn’t know that. I’m livid at the situation, but if I’m honest, it’s not just the stupidity that’s under my skin. It’s the vein of jealousy ripping through me that she called him. “Do you have any fucking idea what you could have done? I don’t need the cops on my ass on top of everything else.”

There’s a moment where I can see it register on her face. A fleeting moment where a tiny shred of regret swims in her eyes, but then it shutters.

“Did you tell him you miss him, Tor?”

“Fuck you.”

I pin her against the wall, and lower my face to her neck. “Fuck me? Huh, Tor?” The heat of her skin against my lips makes me want to sink my teeth into her and mark her. And the brewing jealousy flares because that little shit Euan has had something I want.

Her palm lands on my chest. But instead of pushing me away again, she fists my shirt. There’s some magnetic pull between us, charged like static electricity. Primal, borderline barbaric. “Is that what you want, doll?”

“Jude…” Her breath hitches.

I grind against her, creating friction that has me imagining what her pussy would taste like, what that damn mouth of hers would sound like screaming my name. “You really shouldn’t want to fuck me, Tor. It’s gonna get us both in some deep shit.”

She drops her head back against the wall on a hard breath, then tightens her grip on my shirt tightens, pulling me closer. The woman is like a hit of heroin, promising to fuck my world up and give me one hell of a ride while doing. And I can’t fight the temptation any longer. I grab her chin. “You make me think bad things.” Then I slam my mouth against hers, sinking my teeth into her bottom lip on a groan. The second her lips part, inviting me in, I shove away. Because this is screwed up.

I take the phone still clutched in her hand and hold it up. “Touch one of my phones again, Tor.” I back away, dick hard and balls tight. “And see what fucking happens.”

It’s an empty ass threat and she knows it.

***

I beat one off last night and slept in my office. The crick in my neck tells me that was a bad idea, and my dick agrees. But I was one step away from fucking her, and while I keep trying to convince myself as long as it’s consenual it’s okay, I know like hell it’s not.

I pour myself my second cup of coffee, then sit down at the table to read over the headlines on my phone. The first one that pops up: Missing Medical Student from Vanderbilt University. Shit.

Twenty-five-year-old Victoria Deveaux was last seen leaving her boyfriend, Euan WIlliam’s house at University Apartments six days ago, although she wasn’t reported missing until last night. William’s told reporters she had planned to go to a friend’s cabin over spring break to study for upcoming exams, which is why no one reported her missing until yesterday evening. Beside the report is a picture of her smiling with a guy in a collared shirt that looks like a complete fuckwad. Euan. Lying sack of shit.