Page 148 of Vicious Addictions

His face looks troubled at the sudden anger in my tone.

“Is your heart so full of hate that you won’t even admit the truth? That you missed me as much as I missed you?”

“There was never anything to miss,” I bite out, more in control of my emotions now.

“Mina, stop,” he orders, hugging my hips to slam me against him. “I know you still feel something for me.”

“I feel nothing.”

“Stop, Mina. I mean it. Tell me the truth… for once.”

“I’m not the liar amongst us. That’s your department. If I tell you that I feel nothing, then accept that as fact.”

“Never,” he says with conviction.

“Then that’s on you. Not me,” I reply, placing my hands on his chest and pushing him away from me. “I came here to do a job. I didn’t come here for you. So whatever illusions you might have to the contrary, let them go. They only make you look like a fool.”

He steps back, his eyes filled with a gut-wrenching pain. Unable to face his anguish, and without revealing my own, I drop my gaze, focusing instead on searching the floor for the key. I need to get out of this bloody room as fast as possible.

“So you’re over it? Over us? Completely?” I don’t answer him. “I don’t believe you,” he says before pushing me up against the door again. “I’ll need proof.”

“Proof?” I cackle.

“Yes, proof.” He surprises me by cupping my face in his hands, his gaze locking onto mine. “If you feel nothing for me, then this shouldn’t hurt.”

That’s the only warning I get before his mouth crashes onto mine.

It happens so suddenly that my mind can’t stop my lips from yielding to his every demand. And it does hurt. The kiss is desperate, pleading. It’s angry, furious. It’s every promise ever broken. And the atonement that it demands.

I gasp as his hand starts slithering down my body and under my top, his hand grabbing my left breast with such force that I feel my pussy clench.

“Tell me this doesn’t hurt?” he demands after breaking our kiss and lowering his head to lick my nipple before sucking it into his mouth. “Tell me that you didn’t miss this. That you’re unfazed by all of it,” he repeats, grabbing my leg and perching it on his hip so that his hard cock rubs against my swollen clit. My head falls back to the door as I gasp for breath, my body too willing a participant in the madness. “Fuck, I missed you so much, Mina. So fucking much,” he says, sucking on my right nipple now while his other hand pulls down his zipper.

If I don’t put a stop to this now, he’s going to fuck me against this door within seconds. And though I have spent the last five years hating him, my body needs him more than it needs to cling to that hatred.

Jude spins me around, his deft fingers quickly unbuttoning my jeans, pulling them and my panties off in quick haste. I stare at the pile of clothes on the floor, inches away from our feet, when he grabs my hips, pulls my ass up, and knees my thighs apart.

He then leans in until his lips are at my ear, both of us moaning as his fingers find me wet and ready for him.

“Tell me you feel nothing again. Continue to lie to me if you want to. But this,” he says, dragging his fingers through my drenched pussy, “is not nothing. Your mouth may say one thing, but your pussy says another. It won’t ever lie to me.”

My chest heaves for breath, panting in anticipation of what he’ll do next.

“Tell me you want me, Mina. Let me hear you say it,” he orders, and when I don’t submit, he starts playing with my clit, my whimpers and soft wails his answer.

And when he aims the head of his cock at my entrance, I have to grab onto the door to keep my bearings.

“If you want me to stop, say it now, Mina. Or, by God, keep that beautiful mouth of yours shut so I can fuck you like we both want.”

My mind is yelling at me to stop him, to pull away from his grasp, but my body has already submitted to his demands all too willingly.

I let out a wail when his cock thrusts deep inside of me, my eyelids closing of their own accord. I had forgotten how good it felt to feel whole like this. Jude has always been the only one who could make me feel like this. Like he was the missing part of me.

“Fuck, Mina. You feel so fucking good,” he praises and laments all in the same breath.

His thrusts are slow and purposeful at first. As if he were acquainting himself with me for the first time. Memories of when I had given him my virginity come to me in full force. How beautiful he made me feel. How wanted and cherished. Just like right now.

Even when I hate-fucked him back at my penthouse, there was a moment of tenderness that I couldn’t deny. A fleeting moment of weakness on both our parts.

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