The Wrong Kind of Love

"Jude," I try to object, but he only kisses me harder.

Until I'm breathless. Until I feel his cock push against me. I tense, but he's right there, his soft voice soothing me, whispering that he loves me over and over as he slowly presses inside me.

“You’re so perfect,” he says, kissing the tears trickling down my temples away. “So gorgeous.” He slides in a little deeper, and I wait for the fear to come, but it never does. This is nothing like Tom. This isn't violent or degrading. This is a declaration of love from him to me. A promise. A vow.

“So mine,” he says, worshiping me with every smooth stroke, every kiss, every touch. He takes away the pain and replaces it with every little piece of himself.

His muscles tense and a low groan leaves his lips. "Fuck, I've missed you." His breath is hot on my neck, his touch soft, but demanding enough to let me know just how much he wants this.

My hands go to his back, my nails digging into his skin as a small moan slips from my lips.

"You're mine, Tor. No one can take you from me."

"Fuck me," I beg. "Come inside me." I need him to mark me, claim me, remove all traces of Tom from my body. "Please.”

Jude’s thrusts grow faster, less controlled. “Fuck, woman.” His forehead touches mine on a deep groan as he shudders and stills inside me. "You're mine, Tor.” He kisses me until all traces of Tom are swept away, and all that’s left is Jude. “No one can take you from me.”

And I believe him.

Jude

I fight the urge to gag as the smell of burning tuna drifts from the kitchen to the living room, the phone pressed to my ear as Gabe rattles off the plan to take down one of Tom’s men. “Pay the girl, and I’ll go tonight,” I say before hanging up.

“What girl?” Tor steps out from the hallway, looking like she might cut my balls off.

“A hooker.” I can see it all over her face. She opens her mouth, but I cover it before she can shout at me. “She’s just a decoy.”

“For what?”

“Gabe found a guy he thinks can get me to Tom.” I move past her to the entranceway and grab the gun from the table. “He likes high-end hookers.”

“I’ll do it.”

What in the hell? She can’t be serious. I slowly turn to face her. “Do what?”

“Be the hooker.”

Heat bleeds over my face. She’s lost her damn mind. “Hell to the fuck no.”

“Jude–”

“No! I’m using a real hooker because if she gets killed I don't give a shit."

Her face crumples. “Please don’t leave me here alone.”

I shove the gun in the back of my jeans, then move toward her, cupping her face in my hands. “You’re not alone, doll. Marney’s here.”

She pulls away from my hold. “It’s not the same. What if something happens to you? What if it’s some kind of trap to kill you, or a trap to get you away and Tom comes here?”

“It’s a hooker and a middle-aged sack of shit.”

She fists the front of my shirt. “I’ll stay in the car.”

“No!”

“Please, Jude. I only feel safe with you.”

My chest goes tight and my mind goes down a bad path. What if Tom happens to know we’re here? What if he comes for her and I’m not her to make sure nothing happens? Marney’s tough as shit, but he’s old and slowing down. And while I know he cares about her, she’s not his. She’s mine. “If you come, you’re staying right fucking with me.”

She nods. “Okay.”

I start to the door. “And you’re gonna see some shit that you probably don’t want to see.”

She follows me. “I know you do bad things, Jude. I’m fine.”

Bad fucking things...

***

My shoulder presses hard against the hotel wall as I move Tor a little farther behind me. I can't believe I let her talk me into this. “You stay right the fuck there. And keep your eyes closed,” I whisper.

“You said that twelve times already.”

Shadows block the light streaming underneath the door and the lock clicks. I hold my breath as the door slowly pushes open, and stops an inch in front of my face.

"Leave the lights off.” The escort leans against the door as she closes it. Mussa's attention is so focused on her he hasn't even noticed me in the shadows. The girl glances in the corner and his attention swings to me, gun raised. I pull back on the hammer. “Get out.” I jerk my head to the door and the girl Gabe paid off hurries out. My gaze swings back to Mussa. “Where is Campbell? I want an address.”

“There must be a misunderstanding. I don’t know a–”

I lunger toward him, ramming the barrel of the gun against his sweaty forehead. “Bullshit. I know you check in with him once a day.”