Page 120 of Thorns of Malice

She closes her eyes as if in pain.

"Tell me."

The agony never leaves her face. She confesses, "Everything's been getting worse. I can't promise you what you want me to, nor do I owe you my vow. You had it ten years ago and broke it. And now..." She opens her eyes. "Now I physically don't know if I can ever give it to you again."

It feels like I'm breaking. It's a statement I hate, but I can't argue with her. She's right, and it hits me hard.

I did have her.

It's my fault we're so broken.

She's never going to forgive me.

She slides her arms around my neck, one hand in my hair, pushing me toward her. "Do what you do and fuck me, Dax." She slides her tongue back in my mouth, and I give in.

I'm in a world between Heaven and Hell where I'm fighting to do the right thing, but I've lost all sense of what that entails. All I know is I need her as much as she needs me. But my reasons are different. And I want hers to be the same as mine, but I wonder if they ever will be again.

"Use me. Make me feel how only you can," she murmurs.

"I love you. I want you to know how much I love you," I declare, my stomach flipping. I'm not used to saying it and meaning it like I do now.

Her face softens for a moment, then hardens. She warns, "I'm not into love, Dax. I'm your filthy whore who you created exactly to your liking. So let me use you and get what I need, or I'm going to him."

21

Ivy

My threat hangs in the air, building the tension between us to the point my veins buzz out of control. There's one thing I need, and nothing else matters until I get it.

I need him to fuck me.

Dax studies me; he's frozen, grappling with his decision, confusing me. This isn't the man I'm used to seeing. The old Dax took what he wanted and didn't care about anything or anyone else.

I threaten, "You or him?"

His internal debate ends. He tugs my head toward his, consuming my lips and tongue, propelling me into a world I never want to leave.

It's our place. Our secret existence that could burn to the ground, and we'd still never leave. And while the flames burned around us, our bodies would stay merged as one, fighting to own the other, dying to steal every last inch of the other's soul.

He moves me toward the kitchen, unbuttoning my jeans and shoving them down, then propping me up on the counter.

My legs curl around his waist. I reach for his belt, unfasten it and his pants, and shove them over his hips.

A loud clang sounds as he slides into me with full force.

My back arches. I moan with relief, clinging to him tighter.

He tugs on my hair, kisses my neck, and demands, "Is this what you want, baby girl?"

"No! I'm your dirty slut."

He slows his thrusts, raises my shirt over my head, and releases my bra, yanking it off my arms. "Is that what your greedy, slutty pussy wants, baby girl?"

"Harder," I order.

"Tell me who you are," he demands, dipping to my chest and sucking my tit.

I whimper.

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