Debt

by Nina G. Jones

I fucking hate him and I want him so bad.

I have never liked or even loved anyone the way I hate Tax Draconi.

He wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me in forcefully, the tips of my toes barely make contact with the floor as I land against his hard chest. “I’m here because I dream about you, the taste of your pussy, your moans, your cries, the way you beg for me...” I instantly become wet as his warm breath, spiced with just a hint of brandy, caresses the shell of my ear. “Because as soon as I leave after having you, I want you again. And then even when I have that, it’s not enough. When I see another man look at you the way I do, I want to kill him. I want to swallow you. I want to consume you. I want to possess you. I want you.” His other hand reaches around and cradles the nape of my neck. It feels so small in his grasp, like he could snap it with the jerk of his wrist. His lips brush against my collarbone as he whispers the last words with a rasp: “I want more.”

🥲

I watch her, while I battle with the fact that I just spent the night in bed with a woman I have spent the last ten years of my life plotting to kill.

😈