Sweet Venom by Rina Kent - 29

29

I don’t know what I expected.

Maybe I thought Jude would take me home or, I don’t know, just drive his bike around like he usually does in the morning—lingering on longer routes before we reach campus.

Instead, he stops at the top of a hill overlooking the town.

I’m slightly apprehensive about the whole night. Not only is this the first time I’ve worn a dress in over a decade, but we also left Preston with Marcus, who looked like he’d hurt him.

However, the strongest reason why I’m on edge is Jude.

He’s been tense and silent the entire ride.

He kills the bike’s engine with a flick of his wrist. The sudden heavy silence stretches wide over the cloudy night, broken only by the distant rustle of wind through the trees.

I hesitantly pull my hands from around his waist, and he hops off and walks to the edge of the hill.

Rubbing my arms, I do the same, my heart beating loudly. The chill stings, slipping under my clothes, biting at the skin of my exposed hands.

The earthy scent of winter is laced with the faintest trace of smoke from chimneys burning somewhere far below.

Graystone Ridge unfolds beneath us in a vast sprawl of winding streets and towering buildings, their golden lights flickering like tiny stars trapped behind glass.

The town looks peaceful from this distance, softened by the night, but the view does nothing to calm the faint disturbance clinging to my bones.

Jude stares at the horizon, both hands in his jeans pockets. The wind tugs at the loose strands of his dark hair, and even as he fixates on the town, he doesn’t look like he belongs to the world below. He belongs to the dark, deep, and mysterious night.

His shoulders are rigid, every line of him drawn with tension I don’t understand the reason behind.

Well, I do.

I think he’s mad that I was with Preston. I know he doesn’t like that we’ve gotten close, but then again, he’s never been like this whenever he joins us for lunch.

And I’m not supposed to feel this bad.

Don’t blame yourself for others’ actions or fluctuating emotions or what you can’t control, right?

Yeah, I need time to apply that to my life, because I’m tugging at my dress, wishing I’d worn jeans instead. This whole thing was a huge mistake, it seems.

Standing a short distance away, I pretend to be mesmerized by the view. “You think Preston will be okay?”

I realize my mistake when Jude cocks his head in my direction, his eyes glinting like a feral beast’s. When he speaks, his voice is calm but edgy. “Why are you asking?”

“I’m just worried about him. Marcus is bad news from what I’ve heard, and Preston seemed off.”

That doesn’t ease Jude’s expression.

If anything, a deep line appears between his eyebrows, and his nostrils flare. “You’re worried about him. ”

It’s not a question, but I nod. “Aren’t you worried about him, too? Surely, you know Marcus is violent. Have you seen his busted knuckles?”

“I’m violent, too. Does that make me a threat to Preston, whom you’re so worried about?”

“You guys are best friends.”

“Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t hurt him. After all, he was comfortable flirting with what’s mine.”

I bite the inside of my cheek and flick my thumb over my wrist. “So that’s what you’re mad about?”

“Mad? Try fucking enraged, Violet.” He storms in my direction, and I gasp when he wraps a huge arm around my waist and pulls me flush against him. “I don’t like others coveting what’s fucking mine, especially when you look like this.”

“You should’ve killed me, then.” I look away, my stomach falling at his words.

Jude’s rough gloved fingers grip my jaw and pull me back to face his furious eyes. “The fuck you just say?”

I lift my chin, staring him square in the face. “The only way to stop others from looking at me is if you kill me. I can’t exactly be invisible or only exist for your eyes, you know.”

He narrows his eyes, his gorgeous face not as closed off as earlier, and his huge body partially melts around mine—only partially, though. “That mouth of yours seems to talk back a lot when you’re with me.”

I pause.

I do.

I mean, it’s been more frequent lately. In the beginning, I was too scared of him to dare talk back as often. Eventually, little by little, the fear disappeared, and I kind of…what? Felt comfortable enough to show my true self ?

Somehow, I stopped worrying about disappointing him or being a burden or just annoying him.

Is it because he’s never made me feel judged?

“Would you rather I didn’t?” I whisper.

“You can talk back all you want, but don’t flirt with other men.”

“I wasn’t. We were just talking. Besides, he saved me from a gunman.”

His expression darkens, his arm around me tightening. “ What ?”

Placing a tentative hand on his chest, I tell him about the attack in the parking lot and that the man on the motorcycle looked exactly the same as the one who attacked Mario and me twice. The gunman who’s the reason Mario is in a coma in the first place.

“So yeah,” I finish. “If Preston hadn’t come in time, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Jesus Christ.” He slides his hand over his face. “I’ll need to assign you security.”

“You don’t have to⁠—”

“I want to. There’s no way in fuck I’ll let you roam around unprotected while some psycho is out to kill you.” He releases a breath. “Until I find out who’s behind these murder attempts, you’ll have to put up with it.”

I smile a little.

“What?” he asks, watching me closely.

“Nothing, it’s just odd that you’re protecting me when you wanted to kill me not too long ago.”

“Odd,” he repeats but says nothing else, seeming deep in thought.

I might have suspected it before, but I’m certain now. Julian was definitely lying about Jude trying to kill me. Judging by his expression right now, he seems murderous that anyone would even try to hurt me.

It’s strange and unorthodox, but Jude and I share a connection. Maybe it’ll become destructive over time, but it’s there all the same.

“Don’t blame or hurt Preston, okay? We were just talking after what happened,” I say in a pleading voice.

His eyes narrow to slits as he runs them over the length of me, and I have to physically stop myself from tugging on the dress.

“Did you also get dolled up just to talk to Pres?”

I stay silent and his grip becomes firm on my chin. “Tell me, Violet. Who did you think of when you put on this sexy little dress and that shiny pink lipstick? Hmm?”

“Myself,” I say clearly. “I wanted to feel pretty.”

He pauses and his grip even loosens. “You did it for yourself?”

“Yeah. Is there a problem with that?”

“On the contrary.” A flick of his finger, a tiny graze, and he’s stroking my cheek. “I’m glad you’re seeing yourself in a different light.”

My lips part and something inside me warms.

God. He sure knows the right things to say for a grumpy asshole/murderous stalker.

His hand falls from my face and moves under the hem of my dress, his gloves leaving goosebumps on my starved skin as he sensually slides it up while pushing me back.

“I still hate others’ eyes on you. It makes me homicidal.” He’s speaking so close to my mouth, I can only breathe him, inhaling him with every drag.

“This.” He slaps my ass beneath the dress and I yelp. “Is mine, isn’t it, sweetheart? ”

I flinch when my lower back hits something, and I realize he’s backed me up against the bike.

The leather creaks under our weight, and I slam both hands on his chest. “What are you doing?”

He grips my ass cheeks, then flips and pushes me so that I’m bent over the bike.

I’m still dizzy from the sudden jolt when he shoves my dress up to my waist. Cold air skims my bare skin and goosebumps break out on my thighs.

The sound of his unbuckling belt echoes in the silence and rushes to a starved, feral side of me.

Oh God.

I grab onto the sides of the bike, my nails digging into the leather, and look behind me. For a moment, I’m frozen because goddamn it, he’s hot.

The sexiest, most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

His muscles swell and ripple with power beneath his jacket and his veins bulge, visible even underneath the gloves, as he pulls out his hard cock.

When did he even get that…hard?

My mouth waters, and my thighs clench. “We’re in public, Jude.”

“You think I give a fuck?” His voice is thick with lust as he strokes his cock and slides my underwear down my thighs. A soft growl spills out of him. “Seems you don’t give a fuck either, considering how soaking wet these panties are.”

“It’s… It’s…”

“Shh.” His hard chest covers my back as he drops a kiss on the hollow of my neck, then sucks on the sensitive skin until I almost feel his tongue and lips on my dripping folds. “Don’t offer excuses for how much you love this. Just feel, sweetheart. ”

My mouth is dry as he pulls away and grabs my waist, his cock aligning with my pussy.

I should probably fight more.

We’re still in public and anyone could stumble in and see this tattooed dark, broody man fucking me against his bike.

But that image only causes my legs to shake.

Maybe I’m actually broken.

Jude has ruined my perception of normal until I’m even wiggling my ass at the feel of his crown at my entrance.

“I’m going to make this quick and raw, sweetheart.” He nudges inside me and I clench. “Be a good girl and hold on to the handlebars for me.”

As soon as my fingers wrap around the smooth metal, he thrusts inside me in one firm, delicious go.

I gasp, my body convulsing, all my blood rushing to where his body meets mine. My mouth waters and I’m panting, downright salivating at the way he fills me so thoroughly.

“Goddamn. Mmm.” He grunts. “You’re so fucking tight, sweetheart. You always take my cock so fucking well, you know that?”

My body slides back and forth on the seat as he pounds into me, going deep and slow one moment, then hard and shallow the next.

“Oh, Jude…”

“Mmm, yes, moan my name like that.”

“Jude…that feels…”

“Good?”

“God, yes, harder.”

“Fuck, sweetheart. Your body fits me like a fucking glove.”

“Yes…yes!” Because, truly, when did a man ever fuck me so good, to the point I’m ready to orgasm just a few moments in ?

Or maybe it’s not about the man, but what I feel for the man.

No.

I don’t really have feelings for Jude. This is strictly physical.

It has to be.

Slap.

I moan as his gloved hand meets my ass while he’s thrusting into me raw and so good.

The sound of our arousal echoes in the air. It’s sticky and loud and obscene, but I don’t care. My hands hold on to the handlebars for dear life as he fucks me into the bike.

“You look so beautiful, sweetheart.” His chest covers my back again as he pulls my hair from my face and grabs my jaw. “It’s not the dress, it’s the confidence that comes with the dress. I’m so fucking proud of you.”

I stutter, my vision becoming blurry as I try to lift my face.

There’s this undeniable urge flooding inside me—the need to kiss him. However, his grip doesn’t allow me any movement and I can only feel as he told me that.

Jumbled emotions I never wanted, let alone asked for, fill me up as fast as his hard cock.

“I’m proud of the way you played tonight, too,” I murmur. “You looked so cool, Jude.”

“Don’t flirt.”

“I thought we were already past the flirting stage.” I chuckle, but it ends on a moan because he’s hitting that spot inside me, and I can barely see him through my hazy vision.

“God damn it, fuck.” He grunts, his grip loosening around my jaw, and then my lips meet his.

I don’t know if his mouth fell to mine or I reached for his or we just met somewhere in between, but he’s kissing me senseless.

Like he can’t get enough of me.

Jude has been fucking me every day, multiple times a day, religiously, and he still feels like he can’t get enough of me.

Like he can’t touch me deep enough or fuck me hard enough.

And I fall for it every time.

So the moment he kisses me while pounding that spot inside me, I’m coming.

The orgasm is long and paralyzing, but I still try to kiss him back, still try to have as much of him as possible.

Because maybe I can’t get enough either.

“You’re milking my cock, sweetheart,” he growls against my mouth as warm liquid fills my insides, drips down my thighs, and makes a complete mess.

“Take my cum.” He grunts, his lips touching mine. “Mmm. Such a good girl.”

My pussy throbs and I’m close to coming again just from his praise.

Who would’ve thought I’d be so feral for praise from Jude, of all people?

I’m dizzy, and my hands grow lax on the handlebars. I don’t think about how I just had one of the best sexual encounters of my life in a public place or that anyone could’ve seen us.

Jude wipes me with a tissue and puts me together again, smoothing my clothes, wiping my face, and even taming my hair into submission like he always does after sex.

I sway in his arms, still in awe of how a massive grumpy man like him can be so gentle after sex. I thought men didn’t care once they blew their load, but apparently, they do. Or Jude does, at least, because he’s never walked away from me after he’s done.

Never.

As I stare into his dark eyes, my lips part. It’s like I’m being sucked into an orbit I can’t escape.

Because I believe what I thought when he was fucking my brains out is true.

The reason I enjoy sex with Jude so much isn’t only because of the little fantasies or that he truly knows how to fuck me.

It’s because my feelings for him are entirely different from the feelings I’ve had for any other man.

I think I’m falling for my stalker.