Page 67 of Thorns of Malice

She whimpers.

"Tell me you want me and only me. I want to hear it," I order.

"I need it," she mutters.

She needs it?

What isit?

My heart stutters.

I put my face in front of hers, keeping her wrists pinned to the door. "No. Tell me you want me. Not just sex.Me."

Her expression changes. I hate it. There's hatred meant only for me, something so deep and profound I feel it in my soul. It mixes with lust, flaunting her cravings, tugging at my heart.

Is it the drugs, or does she hurt as badly as I do and wants to get back what we had?

"I need it," she says again.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

"Don't get a conscience now, Dax."

I open my eyes. "Don't you get it?"

She nods. "Yeah. I'm your dirty whore. Your sexy little slut with a pulsing, wet cunt, standing in front of you, needing your warm cock inside me. Is there anything you think I don't understand?" She glares at me.

My dick hardens. I loathe myself for it, but it does. This defiant Ivy is so different from the naive, innocent girl she used to be. The new Ivy heats my blood just as hot though.

She threatens, "Either fuck me, or I'm going back downstairs."

"No, you're not."

She scoffs. "So I'm your prisoner? Is that what you're going to do? Keep me locked in here? Will I be your sex slave to use whenever you want?"

I clench my jaw.

"Let me go. You lost your right to boss me around," she hurls.

I don't move.

"I said let me go," she orders more forcefully.

I release her wrists.

She pushes against my chest.

I don't budge, sliding my hands over her cheeks and kissing her again, unable to stop myself or let her walk away.

She's definitely not going back into the office with the others.

I'll kill all of them if they touch her ever again.

Her whore-red lips that tortured me for ten years, consuming all my thoughts, press against mine. Her tongue urgently flicks with a need deeper than anything I've felt from her before.

It's the drugs.

No, it's her.

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