Twisted Hate (Twisted, 3)
Twisted Hate: Chapter 23

Jules and I barely made it into my house before I was inside her again.

We’d already had sex once tonight. That should’ve taken the edge off my need, but I was addicted to this. To her. Her taste, her smell, the little breathy moans she let out every time I thrust into her and the way her pussy clamped around my cock like it was made for me. I wanted all of it, all the time.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this ravenous over a woman. It would’ve been concerning had I given a single fuck, but I subscribed to the philosophy that we should enjoy the good things while they lasted. And I was enjoying the fuck out of myself…with one notable thorn in our encounter.

“Who was the guy, Red?” I slowed my thrusts so I could reach between us and stroke her clit. A dark smile curled my mouth when her head fell back and her lips parted at the touch.

I’d been distracted by Jules’s obvious provocation at Hyacinth. Now that I was home, something clawed at my chest when I remembered the way her old friend brushed her hair out of her face. It had been an intimate, knowing touch, the kind you only gave someone you’d slept with.

Given Jules’s reaction when he left, she hadn’t been thrilled to see him, but that didn’t stop the irrational beast inside me from rearing its ugly head.

“What guy?” she gasped. She was a mess—hair tousled, lips swollen, skin slicked with sweat and marked from my teeth.

It was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen.

I ignored the strange pang in my chest and lowered my head until my lips brushed hers. “Your friend from the club.”

Jules hadn’t provided any details other than the old friend line, and I thought that would be enough. But it was an hour later, and I still couldn’t shake my irritation at seeing them together.

She stiffened. She had her limbs wrapped around me while I braced her against the living room wall, and I felt the tension in every part of her body.

“He’s what you said. A friend.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Are you really talking about another guy while you’re still inside me?”

“I’ll do whatever I like when I’m inside you.” I pinched her nipple, hard, in punishment. “How close of a friend is he?”

Her eyes glittered with amusement even as her mouth parted at my rough touch. “Jealous?”

“Not even a little bit.”

It mirrored our conversation at Hyacinth, and like at the club, I scoffed at the suggestion I was jealous. I didn’t get jealous, especially not over women. People got jealous of me.

“One week into our pact and you’re already breaking the rules,” Jules purred. “I expected more of you.”

“I’m. Not. Jealous,” I snarled, emphasizing each word with a hard thrust inside her.

Her breath hitched. “Could’ve fooled—”

Jules let out a muffled whine of protest when I clamped my hand over her mouth.

“I only want to hear you when you’re begging and coming, Red.” I smiled at the indignation in her eyes, but the smile disappeared a second later when sharp pain lanced into my palm.

I yanked it away with a shocked hiss. She fucking bit me!

“My bad.” A lazy gleam of satisfaction replaced her indignation. “Your hand was in my way.”

A growl rose in my throat. I pinched her nipple again until she let out a sharp cry, her face screwed in pleasure and pain.

“That’s what I want to hear,” I said.

I picked up speed, my cock pistoning in and out of her in a punishing rhythm until she lost her words to a string of moans and came again.

Jules’s head fell back, her mouth falling open in a breathy scream from the force of her orgasm. Fuck. The sensation of her cunt rippling around me was too much to take, and I came right after with a loud groan.

My blood pumped with a mixture of lust and anger, and I sank my teeth into the curve of her neck while the high from my orgasm faded. Her cinnamon and spice scent filled my nostrils, drugging me almost as much as the sound of her delicious cries.

“For someone who claims to hate me so much, you sure scream a lot for me.” I lifted my head and rubbed my thumb over her blossoming hickey with satisfaction.

The primal, territorial part of me loved that I’d marked her. I wanted to shove it in her old friend’s face and declare her off-limits unless he wanted a highly unpleasant meeting with my fist.

Just because I didn’t like Jules didn’t mean I wanted anyone else to see her like this. Body languid, face drowsy with contentment as she stretched against me. None of the prickly armor she wore in public.

This was a side of her only a select few got to see, and no one else was invited to the fucking club.

“It’s a scream of disgust, Chen,” she drawled. “I’m sure you’re used to those.”

I withdrew from her and chuckled when she almost collapsed on the ground without me holding her up.

She glared at me, eyes spitting fire.

“Then it seems you have a disgust kink, because you can’t get enough of me.” I tossed my condom in the nearby trash can and pulled on my pants. “No more tonight, Red, or I’ll have to start charging per orgasm. But if you want more of my cock, I could be persuaded, depending on how nicely you beg.”

“Fuck you.” She snatched her dress off the floor.

“Hmm, not your best work. You might want to practice the nicely part.”

My chuckle morphed into a full laugh when she stormed past me toward the bathroom, her head held high.

She was so easy to rile up.

Since Jules was taking forever and a day in the shower, I used the opportunity to clean up the mess we’d made in the living room—a toppled coat tree, knocked-over picture frames.

I’d just finishing straightening up when a boom of thunder cracked the silence. My head jerked up, and I crossed to the window and pulled aside the curtains.

“Fuck.”

Somehow, the light drizzle from earlier had exploded into a full-blown storm. Another crack of thunder rattled the old wooden bones of the house, and rain lashed against the windows in such thick sheets it created tiny, fast-flowing river systems on the glass.

“What’s going on?”

I turned to see Jules fresh out of the shower, her hair damp around her shoulders and her body wrapped in a tiny towel.

My cock perked with interest, but I ignored the horny bastard. It’d had enough for the night. It was time for my brain to take the wheel, and my brain told me the faster I got Jules out of here, the better.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t let her leave when it was storming like this outside.

“The apocalypse started while we were fucking,” I said.

She peered over my shoulder and rolled her eyes. “You’re being dramatic. It’s a little rain.” She fished her phone from the table where she’d left it.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling a car.” Her brow puckered. “The price surge when it rains is ridiculous—hey!”

I ignored her protest as I snatched the phone out of her hand. “Unless you have a death wish, you are not getting in a car in these conditions.”

“It’s rain, Josh. Water. I’ll be fine.”

“Water that cars can slide and get into accidents in,” I growled. “I work in the ER. Do you know how many car accident cases I see from storms? A lot.”

“You’re being paranoid. I’m not—”

Our phones shrieked with emergency flash flood warning text alerts.

“That’s it.” I shoved her phone into my pocket. “You’re staying until the rain lets up.”

I wouldn’t let anyone, not even my worst enemy, go home in these conditions. The chances were slim, but if anything happened to her…

My throat constricted.

I couldn’t have another death on my hands.

Jules must’ve seen the conviction in my eyes, because she sighed in resignation. “Can I at least borrow something to wear while I wait? I’m not spending the next God knows how many hours in my club dress.”

Half an hour later, she’d changed into one of my old T-shirts and we’d settled on the couch, arguing over which movie to watch.

“Too boring.”

“Too cheesy.”

“No horror. I hate horror.”

“That’s a kid’s movie, Red.”

“So? Kid’s movies can be good.”

“Yeah. If you’re a fucking kid.”

Jules responded with a sweet smile. “Funny you should say that, considering how hard you cried watching The Lion King. Last year.”

I scowled. Ava. How many times did I have to tell her not to share every single fucking thing about me with her friends?

“Mufasa didn’t deserve to die, okay?” I snapped. “At least I’m not such a wuss I hide behind my hands every time the poster for a horror movie pops up.”

“I’m not a wuss. I just dislike ugly things, which is why I try not to look at you—don’t you dare put The Ring on!”

“Try and stop me.”

After more useless bickering, we finally settled on the fairest way to choose—by closing our eyes and scrolling until we hit the lucky selection.

It was…Finding Nemo.

You’ve gotta be shitting me.

I kept my expression neutral, but my muscles locked with tension as the movie’s opening scene unfurled.

“Why are you so quiet?” Jules slid a sidelong glance in my direction. “Don’t tell me you don’t like this movie either. It’s a classic.”

A dozen excuses sat on the tip of my tongue, but the truth swept past all of them and spilled out before I could stop it. “This was me and my dad’s favorite movie,” I said shortly. “We watched it every year on my birthday. Tradition.”

Jules’s face softened for the first time that night. “We can watch something else.”

“Nah, we’re good. It’s just a movie.”

Onscreen, Marlin the clownfish pursued the boat that had captured his son Nemo to no avail.

It was ironic that a movie about a role model parent was the one that reminded me most of Michael, considering he was the exact opposite of a good parent.

“Finding Nemo is fish propaganda,” Jules said out of nowhere. “Did you know real-life fish are terrible parents? Most fish species are happy to abandon their newborns to fend for themselves. It’s not worth the energy and risk for them to try and protect their offspring.”

A startled laugh escaped me. “How do you know that?”

“I did a report on it in high school. I got an A,” Jules added with pride.

I suppressed another smile. “Of course you did.” My leg brushed against hers when I shifted positions, and a tiny electric zing shot up my thigh before I yanked it away. “What does your dad do?” I asked, trying to cover up my knee-jerk reaction.

Part of me was also genuinely curious. Jules never talked about her family.

She shrugged. “No idea. He left when I was a baby.”

“Shit. I’m sorry.” Way to step into it, Chen.

“It’s fine. From what I hear, he was an asshole anyway.”

“Children of asshole fathers unite,” I quipped, earning myself a small laugh.

We fell into a comfortable silence as we watched the movie. I only half paid attention to what was happening onscreen; the other half was busy gauging Jules’s reactions to my favorite scenes. Her laugh when Marlin met Dory, her gasp when the shark started chasing the pair, her humming along to Dory’s famous just keep swimming mantra.

She must’ve seen the movie already, but she reacted like it was her first time. It was oddly charming.

I dragged my eyes back to the screen. Focus.

It was only when we neared the end of the film that I realized the rain had stopped. I checked on Jules to replace her passed out with her head nestled against the throw pillow on her other side.

One of our rules was no sleepovers, but she looked so peaceful I couldn’t bring myself to wake her up.

It was only one night, and the weather had forced her to stay over. It wasn’t like we were going to make a habit of staying over each other’s places.

Just one night. That’s it.