Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 128356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
But I’m already moving.
As if walking on nonexistent ground, I’m completely drawn to the girl I should’ve stayed away from but couldn’t.
Not since the very first time I saw her.
Or the second.
Or the hundredth.
There’s something about Violet Winters that calls to a strange side of me. It might have to do with the disturbing memories that plagued my sleep after Julian said she chose to be his lab rat and risk death just to escape me.
Or distant memories of soft hands that turned brutal or tears that couldn’t be wiped away.
No matter how much I’ve tried to separate the two, Violet and my childhood memories seem to correlate.
A part of me is rebelling at that thought, writhing and falling and rolling and revolting at the very thought of those memories that I erased a long time ago.
The murmurs.
The screams.
The blood.
They’re getting louder and more vicious, screeching and ripping at the bandages with bloodied fingers.
But the moment I touch Violet, they fade into the background, their slimy forms retreating and vanishing from sight.
She goes still, even as I push her against the wall, twisting and securing both her wrists behind her back with one hand.
Her body slowly relaxes as I lean into her, my cock raging hard against her ass and my mouth a few beats away from her cheek.
I’m breathing harshly and so is she, her inhales stuttering, her lips parting, begging to wrap around my goddamn cock.
But even with her erratic breathing, she’s not stiff.
I know she recognizes me even before she whispers, “J-Jude?”
“Mmm.” I nuzzle my nose in her hair and briefly close my eyes as the scent of her rose shampoo overloads my senses.
Why the fuck am I even sniffing her hair?
“What are you doing?” she asks in a small but clear voice.
I grab her jaw and speak so close to her lips, I touch them with every word. “Going through your list of fantasies one at a time. You wanted to be ambushed and used, remember?”
She trembles, but her body melts against mine, her fingers twitching. “That’s not…”
“Blue,” I say.
“What?”
“Say blue, and I’ll stop.”
Her breathing cracks, then her lips accidentally touch mine, and she purses them but doesn’t say the word blue and, instead, nods.
Because she’s defective just like me, my Violet.
I always thought we shared a fucked-up connection, and it’s about time to see how fucked up it can be.
“This is about to get dirty. Buckle up, sweetheart.”
25
VIOLET
My heart is about to jump out of my throat.
It thumps faster, thudding against the walls of my rib cage, slipping through the bones, and cutting itself on the edges.
Because holy hell.
I knew Jude would come find me. He made it clear this morning after the very public display in front of the entire campus.
The moment he devoured me, I realized he isn’t done with me.
In fact, he never was.
And now, he’s breathing against my neck in the dark, his hot exhales making goosebumps erupt on my skin, rushing beneath the surface and stealing my own breath.
He looms over me, towering behind me taller and broader than the darkness.
And, for a moment, I forget my irrational fear of the dark.
I forget about how I squeezed my eyes shut and slammed both hands to my ears in a fruitless attempt to silence the darkness.
Because right now, I’m plagued by tremors and warmth.
And I can’t chase away this reaction I have whenever Jude touches me. My brutal awareness of him is heightening, lengthening, and becoming so maddening that I find it hard to breathe.
His large hand slides around my spine, his fingers grazing my skin beneath the hoodie as he unbuttons my jeans.
My toes curl in my shoes, and a yelp rips out of me when he shoves the jeans down, a sound of tearing fabric echoing in the air.
“Mm.” He grabs a handful of my ass, and even though it’s over my panties, my heart throbs and so does my aching pussy.
Am I turned on by his manhandling?
How can I be this horny because he actually did ambush me, shove me against the wall, and is touching me this roughly?
Blue.
That’s the word I need to say to stop this.
So why am I pressing my lips together, refusing to even think about it?
Slap.
I go up on my tiptoes as Jude kneads the ass cheek he just spanked, then he does it again. Slapping, then kneading, alternating between my ass cheeks.
And again.
And again.
Mixing pain with sensual pleasure.
I’m trembling all over, unshed tears blurring my vision, but they’re more like pleasure tears, really, because I’ve never been this wet before.
“I want to make your skin red and fill it the fuck up with my bruises,” he whispers in dark words near my ear. “I want to mark you so thoroughly that no one dares to fucking touch what’s mine.”
His words should appall me.