Page 55 of Explosive Prejudice

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “You had no problem when Llorón bought you gifts.”

“Shut it,” I hissed.

“Why? I’m just telling the truth.” He then bent down and picked up a piece of paper from the ground. Holding it in front of him so it covered only half of his face, he smiled. “How about this? Can I give you gifts now?”

His audacity to treat this whole matter so lightly was infuriating. It made me think even less of him, but also envy him. If only I could have treated it as a joke, my life would be back to normal. But instead, I was stuck in this ongoing loop, unable to let go of all this rage.

“Is this some kind of a sick joke to you?” I asked, my jaw tense.

He tossed the paper aside, showing off his flawless face. “No. Although, I do find it hilarious. I mean, what are the odds that, from all the people in the world, we ended up wanting each other?”

My forehead creased as I ground my teeth together and stepped closer. “I don’t want you. Not in the slightest.”

His pupils flared as he, too, moved closer. “That’s a lie.”

“It isn’t.”

“So punch me.”

“What?”

He fisted the hem of my shirt and pulled me closer. “I said, punch me.”

“Let go,” I warned through gritted teeth, but he only held me closer.

“Come on, Diesel. Punch me. Hit me. Make me hurt.” The way he said those words while looking me dead in the eyes made him seem so desperate, and it crushed me. The same way as when I found him on that hotel balcony or picked him off the Venetian floor. Seeing his hurt stirred my insides and pushed me into action without stopping to think.

Moving my hands, I grabbed his wrists. “Let. Go.”

“You know, I suddenly remembered I had a question for you.” He grinned, his hands holding me tighter. “Who’s Carmen?”

My eyes widened with shock as my sister’s name slipped through his venomous mouth, and my blood boiled with anger. How the fuck did he know her name?

“Ha,” he chuckled. “Now you’re angry.”

“Shut your damn mouth,” I warned, well aware that I was falling into his trap, but my rage was stronger than me.

As he looked at me underneath lowered eyelashes, his lips curled into a fake smile. “Those flowers you put on her grave were really swee—” He didn’t get to finish his sentence before I had him on the ground, with me on top, pinning him down with my weight.

“You really like having me on my back, don’t you?” he sneered, and I had to take a deep breath and tore my eyes away, only so I wouldn’t break his face.

Suddenly, I felt his fingers sliding underneath my shirt, moving along my hips and back. When he reached my scar, a shudder ran through me, and for a second, I was sent back to that one night we shared and how close we were.

“You know, I still have the gift you gave me.” His voice was low and seductive as he removed his hand from my scar and moved it to hover over my chest. “I even wore it last night when I imagined you fucking me again.” His eyes were focused on my lips. “I thought about you putting those lace stockings on me, only so you could tear them apart with your teeth.” He pushed up his hips, grinding his hard dick against me. “I thought about you fucking me raw, pumping me with cum like your slut, and ruining my pussy with that huge cock of yours.” Biting on his bottom lip, he let out a soft moan. “Fuck, that’s making me so horny.”

Considering the state of my stiff cock, that idea made me horny, too, and that was a big fucking problem. He was everything that was wrong in this world, and yet, my body reacted to him in ways that should have been forbidden. But it was beyond me. Somehow, his words consumed me to the point I questioned my sanity.

Now I imagined him in that position, needy and desperate for my dick while wearing the lingerie I had bought for him. My skin heated, and my cock throbbed in my pants, pushing hard against his. I’d already seen him like that, soaked in pleasure, but the idea of him touching himself only yesterday while imagining me… fuck. An urge I didn’t welcome threatened to take over, and I made the mistake of looking him in the eyes. So bright and blue. Eyes so full of pain that still held me hostage.

“Just admit that you want me and that it’s killing you.”

For a second, I remained frozen, but then I shook my head, freed his hands, and got up as if his touch could kill. Forcing myself to think about anything other than having my dick buried balls-deep inside his ass and making him cry, I moved my hand over my face and sighed in frustration.

“Just… stop buying me gifts.” I didn’t look at him because if I did, he would see how right he was. Because right now, I wanted him so bad I could die.

Diesel

He didn’t stop buying me gifts.

---