Page 68 of Thorns of Malice

It's us and our chemistry.

But is it?

The debate rages in my mind, but she kisses me until they fade away, and all I can do is fall prey to her.

Ivy tugs my hair, pushing her stomach into my erection. She reaches for my belt, unbuckles it, and unzips my pants.

A loud clank fills the air. Her warm hands palm my ass, and everything feels like we're right back where we left off.

"Did you miss your dirty slut?" she mumbles against my lips.

My cock throbs, but it pulls me out of my musings.

This isn't back then. It's now. I'm older and wiser, no longer caring about what anyone thinks or a sordid game with no point other than toxic destruction. I retreat from her mouth. "Ivy?—"

"Shut up and fuck me, Dax. Fuck your whore in every hole possible," she says, her eyes wild.

"Stop saying that," I order, but the devil in me feels more alive.

My erection throbs against her stomach, and she notices. She glances down, her lips twisting, asserting, "Yeah. That's what you like, Dax. You like little sluts. Now, call me your little slut."

I stay quiet, fighting my demons, wanting to give in, hating myself for it.

Ivy was never a slut or a whore. But every time she called herself my slut or whore, I loved it. It fed my ego. It gave me points on the imaginary game board. But it's wrong. She was pure and good.

I should have treasured every ounce of her.

Her eyes narrow. She hisses, "Say it."

"No, gorgeous. I'm not saying it."

"Say it," she bellows.

I stare at her. My blood boiling, erection pulsing, breath ragged.

She pushes against my chest. "Then get off me. I'm going downstairs to the people who understand what I need."

She spins to open the door. I push her against it. Once again, I cage my body against hers.

"Oh fuck," she breathes, the excitement in her voice, that I've missed hearing so much, creating a burst of adrenaline in all my cells.

I tug her hair back so her face is toward the ceiling.

She looks at me from the corner of her eye, breathing hard.

I put my lips near her ear, unable to stop myself. "Is this what you want, my little whore? You want that slutty, wet pussy of yours filled with my cum?"

"Yes," she breathes.

"You want me to fuck you so hard you can't walk for a week?"

Her voice shakes. "Y-yes."

I push past the thin whore-red thong, slide my finger inside her, and she shudders, moaning. "Your greedy little cunt's missed me, hasn't it?"

"Yes," she breathes.

"You want to be my naughty slut, don't you?"

---