I swore I’d never speak to him again, that I’d never set eyes on him again as long as I lived.
But I was wrong.
When life gets too much and you need to escape, the poison that might kill you becomes oh so tempting.
I needed a release from the crazy. Just once.
Just one night. That’s what I told myself.
No strings, no illusions, no promises. Nothing but the lasting thrill of his flesh on mine.
The lasting hit of his poisonous touch.
But when poison runs through your veins, the way he runs through mine, it’s toxic and eats you alive.
My whole body was screaming out YES, even as my mind was screaming out NO.
He was toxic. Poisonous. The fatality of every scrap of my heart when he’d trashed it all to pieces without even looking back. The man who consumed me, promised me the stars, then destroyed me and left me a betrayed mush on the floor, sobbing my guts up and retching myself to sleep at night.
I hated him.
I’d sworn I’d always hate him.
But I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t stop my clit begging and my heart pounding and breath quickening. I couldn’t stop myself giving my needy, filthy shards over to the man who knew how to consume them.
This was me. The real me. The crazy me.
The me everyone I knew would curse at and tell me I was a stupid bitch for letting loose.
The me I’d thrown to the side and ignored through ten years of trying to live a cookie cutter life for my own wellbeing.
I was doomed the second I felt his heat at my back. His breath alive on my neck. His words a whispered hiss at my ear.
“I’ll do more than fuck you, Anna. I’ll take you so fucking hard you’ll be a mess for weeks, and you know it. You know full well the things I’ll fucking do to you, that’s why you’re here.”
Yes. I knew it.
Yes. That’s why I was there.
I let out my first desperate little moan as I turned to face him. His mouth was waiting. Open and fierce and wet.
My lips pressed to his, but his tongue was already set to take mine. It pushed in deep and danced a beautiful dance as his fingers gripped my face and held me tight.
And there it was. That simmer deep inside that you can’t fake or substitute. That heavenly desire that buzzes right through you and blacks out everything else in this life.
He did that to me.
He always had.
And I needed it right now.
I grabbed onto his hair and kissed him like my whole world depended on it. Like he was my salvation. My saviour and destroyer both at once. Enough to drive me out of my mind and lap it up in an orgy of the purest sin.
He was panting now, and there was that smirk of his I knew so well and loved so much, his mouth barely breaking contact.
“You’d better be ready to show me what a filthy little slut you still are.”
“Make me one,” I hissed right back. “Fucking take me.”
Jade has increasingly little to say about herself as time goes on, other than the fact she is an author, but she’s plenty happy with this. Living in imaginary realities and having a legitimate excuse for it is really all she’s ever
Jade is as dirty as you’d expect from her novels, and talking smut makes her smile.