WICKED PARADISE | JENLISA

NINE

JENNIE
***

IT TOOK LONGER THAN normal for her dark voice to slip past the lust-fogged haze of my brain. It took another moment for the trick to fully be understood.

I’d signed because one man a year for four years was survivable. I’d signed because I’d rather have a guarantee of an ending, than battle for the unknown escape that may or may not eventuate.

But…four men a month?

One a week?

One hundred and ninety two strangers who would touch me, fuck me, make me take this dreadful, heinous, body-stealing, mind-breaking, thought-silencing, rational-killing drug?

No!

No way.

In a flash of coherency, I launched at her.

One moment, I rubbed myself over my knickers in full view of this monster—hating myself, cursing myself, unable to fucking stop—the next, I toppled her backward and straddled her hips.

My coherency faltered, falling beneath the crippling, clawing greed.

God, I needed. I craved. I arched and spread my legs, pressing down until our groins connected.

I couldn’t control it.

It was as if tiny monsters ran in my bloodstream, turning me against myself, shredding my decency, my common-sense, deleting every ethic and moral I’d ever had.

I hated it.

I hate her.

I went to slap her, but she grunted, locking possessive hands on my hips.

The second she touched me, it was all over.

I quaked. Any remaining shred of who I was became tinder under a glowing lava of lust. It sparked, caught fire, incinerated me to ash.

My skin blazed. It burned. It hurt. It hurt so much to be bruised and bitten.

I couldn’t stop it.

My hand fell from the almost-slap, landing on her chest. I undulated on top of her, trying to get off, desperate to dispel the driving, suffocating need to come before she threw me away.

If I came, maybe I could get back in control of myself.

If I gave in for just a second, I might get free.

Please!

For a fraction of a moment, her gaze shot black, and she jerked me impossibly hard onto her. The seam of her zipper caught my clit. The violent pressure of being ground onto her made stars supernova in my core.

Yes.

No.

Fuck.

My eyes flared as I screamed at myself to run like a normal person, all while my body rocked against the impressively large steel in her trousers. I was crazy with need. And she was as horny as I was, yet she hadn’t taken the drug.

She’d turned me into this animal.

My lack of control turned her on.

Her stare trapped me in place. She drove upward with her hips.

Another whip of desire dragged an embarrassing cry from my lips.

My hate coiled with need.

My fury plaited with yearning.