The Wrong Kind of Love

Rodney shifts to my side. “How much for her?” he asks, his gaze shifting back to Tor.

I don’t even give myself enough time to fully process what he’s said before I grab him by the back of the head and smash his face into the bar. Drinks and glasses smash. “I don’t like what you just insinuated.” I drag him from the bar and shove him against the wall, pinning him against it with my forearm.

People around me shout while Rodney claws at my arms. “Learn some fucking respect,” I say before I let him go and he slumps to the floor.

Someone groans behind me, and when I turn around I see a guy on the floor, his knees bent to his chest and his hands tucked between his thighs cupping his junk. “What the..”

Tor shrugs, readjusting her sunhat. “He was about to bottle you over the head.”

That shouldn’t be hot, but my dick sure as hell thinks it is. “Let’s go,” I say, glaring at Rodney, who’s rubbing his reddened neck, on my way out.

As soon as we get outside the sky box, I turn and pin her against the wall. “You shouldn’t be getting in the middle of a fight.” It takes everything in me not to rip her clothes off and fuck her up against this wall.

“Didn’t want him to ruin your pretty face.” She trails her fingers over my cheek on a smirk. “It’s your only redeeming feature.”

“My face isn’t my best asset.” My lips brush hers before I move her away from the wall. “And you damn well know it.”

We make our way out of the stadium and to my truck. I’ve barely made it out of the parking lot before Tor goes for my belt. “Maybe you were right.” She undoes my fly and pulls my hardening cock out. “This may be your best asset.”

I fight back a groan, my grip on the steering wheel tightening as she sucks the head into her warm mouth. “Fuck, doll.”

Then she takes me back all the damn way, and my foot lays a little heavier on the accelerator.

“There’s something about watching you get into a fight that really does it for me,” she says, flicking her tongue over my tip.

“So you’re into the criminal type?”

She deepthroats me on a low moan and I nearly lose my shit. Damn, those lips. I knew they served one hell of a purpose and I am reaping those benefits right now. I fight to keep my eyes open, nearly running a red light as she works over me, her hand matching the rhythm of her mouth.When I slam on the brakes, she looks up at me. “You wanna come? Beg me.”

Of course she would. Fisting her hair, I yank her head back. “I don’t beg, doll. That’s what you do.”

Her brow lifts as she rubs a thumb over the bead of precum rolling from my dick. “Then you don’t get to come.” She starts to shift across to her seat, but I pull her right back down into my lap.

“Suck my cock, like a good girl, Tor.”

Her tongue traces over the vein and my dick twitches at the sensation. “You didn’t say please.”

She makes another swipe over my shaft, deepthroating me then pulling me right back out when I groan. “Fucking please,” I say, just as the light turns green and I press my foot over the gas.

“Was that so hard?” And then she takes me all the way back in her hot mouth. I thrust up, fucking her mouth as I take a hard turn.

“That damn mouth of yours.” I groan, picking up the pace before I blow my load. “Shit.”

I let off the accelerator a little and Tor sits up, smiling at me as she wipes the corner of her mouth.

Damn, this woman is going to be the death of me.

Jude

I shuffle past the stack of forged college transcripts and a medical diploma awarded to one Tor Pearson, stopping on the New Zealand passport. It’s the best I can do to give her the life she deserves. Giving her my last name is the best I can do to hope she one day understands how much I cared about her, while hoping she’ll never forget me.

Had Tom not put her here, she would be in some rotation in an ER. She’d be making plans for summer break. Talking to her sister about what hospitals she’d applied to. But instead she’s here, reading a children’s book and smiling at the man who helped fuck everything up for her.

I place the envelope on the dresser. Part of me knows damn well I should go ahead and tell her, but that selfish-ass part of me won’t allow it. I want a few more moments of this. A few more minutes where I can pretend I deserve someone like her. So instead of handing that envelope to her and telling her she’s leaving.