The Wrong Kind of Love Read Online L.P. Lovell, Stevie J. Cole

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Mafia, Romance Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82025 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 410(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
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His teeth sink into my neck on a groan. “Don’t tell me it doesn’t turn you on.”

Does it turn me on? I’m wet right now, needy. Because he’s bad and awful and hot.

“I only get my hands dirty when it’s personal. And this–” he says, ripping open my fly and sinking his hand in my pants. “This is fucking personal.”

And that–yes, that turns me on.

His fingers slip inside me, and all rational thought flees like smoke on the wind. Because damn, he feels so good.

“You’re never getting your life back, Tor.”

And maybe I don’t want it back. Maybe I want this. Him…Then his lips slam over mine, hard and angry like a rogue wave crashing onto the shore. He’s brutal and unforgiving, everything I need.

“So fucking wet,” he groans, shoving my jeans over my hips as he yanks me away from the wall. “Do you know how fucking long I’ve wanted to eat this pussy of yours?” He slams me facedown over his desk and pins me in place with his forearm, then spreads my cheeks. Paperwork crinkles underneath my palms when he makes a slow lick over my aching pussy.

“Fuck me, Tor. You taste as goddamn innocent as you look….”

I’m no virgin, but I might as well be for the way his dirty words make me feel.

My nerve endings light up like a firework show when he sucks my clit into his mouth, nipping and biting. He swears under his breath, like this is going to get him off.

“I could eat this sweet pussy all damn day,” he groans, yanking me back and burying his face against me. His fingers dig into my ass cheeks before one presses against my asshole. And that’s what sends me over the edge.

My body bows and contorts to his tune, a slave to his whims. “Jude,” I moan as heat floods my skin, creating a momentary high of pure bliss.

The orgasm reaches a crescendo right before he flips me over. Papers crinkle under my back when he shoves me farther up the desk, and the way he looks at me promises he’ll ruin me. I want this. I’ve wanted this.

He goes for his belt, pausing when someone knocks on the door.

I yank my jeans back on so fast I almost trip over. And I’m glad I do because Marney opens the door and freezes at the threshold. His gaze swings from Jude to me. “Ah, hell, boy…”

Heat consumes my face, and I can’t look the old man in the eye. What if he heard? Oh, God, I can’t… I make a beeline for the door, rushing past him before I practically run to Jude’s room.

I flop down on the bed, and bask in the afterglow of the best orgasm I’ve ever had. Jude is probably going to avoid me for days now. And I don’t want him to.

I want him to come in here and fuck me instead of acting like he just crossed some moral line. My morals died the moment I came on his face, right after finding out he killed my ex-boyfriend.

“Ria?” Caleb’s voice comes from the other side of the door, and I sit up, smoothing a hand over my hair as though that would help any. Pretty sure I look freshly fucked.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to the store. You want anything?”

Out of this damn house. Fresh air. A moment to think without Jude’s intoxicating scene all around me. “Can l come with you?”

He frowns as I pass by, heading for the stairs. “You’re supposed to be dead, Ria. Probably isn’t a good idea to just walk around town.”

“I dyed my hair.” I stop at the top of the stairs and fold my arms over my chest. “Jude said if I dyed my hair I could go out.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but as I’m sure he knows, if he denies me then I’ll give Jude hell. Rolling his eyes, he grabs a gun from Jude’s closet–because they just keep those everywhere. “Fine. Come on.”

***

An hour later, we’re leaving Wal-E-Mart, and my nerves are on edge. A world that was once safe for me suddenly isn’t. I guess I didn’t realize how unsafe I would feel until I was eyeing the mothers with screaming children and the old men on their mobility scooters like they may whip out a gun any second.

Caleb finishes putting the groceries into the back while I climb into the passenger side. I drop my bag to the floorboard, a slight smile pulling at my lips when I glance at the little wooden picture frame sticking out from the plastic. I just hope it’s the right size for the picture of Jude’s mother and sister.

Caleb gets in and cranks the engine, fiddling with the radio as he backs out of the parking spot. Some rap song comes on, and he grins. “Love this shit,” he says, pulling onto the two-lane highway. “What kinda music do you listen to? The Beatles or something?”


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