The Monster (Boston Belles #3) - L.J. Shen Page 0,81

smooth movement.

I was drenched, hot and ready for him.

My eyes opened and I saw him leaning against the examination table, between my legs, while I was full to the hilt with his erection. He closed his eyes and hissed, the pleasure too much for both of us, as he began to move inside me.

“Found what you were looking for?” I croaked, referring to his so-called pap smear.

He thrust into me with a punishing rhythm. “And then some.”

Something about his movements, so sure, so nonchalantly punishing, told me that he was used to getting what he wanted not only outside of the bedroom but inside it, too.

“I can’t believe I’m fucking you again.” He shook his head, frowning at me.

“Believe it.” My heart pounded loud and wildly. “Because I doubt you can do this with anyone else at this point.”

“Shut up.”

“You know it’s true. That’s why you couldn’t have sex with that woman at the ball, who looked exactly like me. You know what you want, Sam? You just don’t want to take it because the consequences would mean you’d lose my daddy’s fat paycheck.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your daddy.” He plowed into me angrily. I didn’t think anyone had ever been that deep inside of me.

“Then what is it? Please don’t tell me you actually convinced yourself you are bad for me. You don’t have a conscience, and I can make my own decisions.”

“Shut. Up.”

“Make me.” I blew a raspberry. For a second, he stopped thrusting and just stood still between my legs, buried inside me. Then in one swift motion, he removed the latex gloves from his hands, balled them together, and shoved them into my mouth, my juices still on them. My mouth filled with the bitter taste of latex and the earthiness of myself.

“There. That’s better.” He resumed his thrusts. “Never have I fucked a more infuriating creature.”

“Furrryerrr,” I offered around the ball of gloves.

“Yes, sweetheart, that’s exactly what I’m doing. Fucking you.”

He was close. I could feel it. The way his fingers tightened around my thighs, pushing them outward. The way his expression became less guarded and more surprised like he, too, couldn’t believe it was so good.

“Are you on the pill?” he asked, mid-thrust.

I tried answering around the gloves, but my voice was muffled, and he couldn’t catch that I’d said, “Yes, I was, since I was fifteen.”

“Never mind.” He pushed in and out with jerky movements. “Even if you aren’t, you are going to take the morning after pill. Am I clear?”

The pleasure and playfulness I felt just seconds ago turned into anger again. He came inside me, holding my legs still as his face tightened. I could feel his warm cum making its way inside my body. I spat the gloves out onto the floor, roaring with fury, swinging my body upright. I pushed him off of me, kicking him for good measure. He barely moved—just enough to let me stand up fully—already tucking himself in.

“Get out.” I pointed at the door. “Now. And don’t come back.”

He stared at me with amusement, slowly rearranging himself, buttoning his slacks, removing a cigarette from his pack.

“Lighten up, Nix. I heard you when you said you were on the pill. I just like to see you getting pissy.”

“Well, congratulations, you succeeded. You think it’s okay to tell a woman what to do with her body?”

“Depends on the woman.” He shrugged.

“Out!” I yelled, louder now.

He lit his cigarette. Another thing that bothered me. He knew I hated when he smoked. I stomped to the door, flinging it open all the way.

“Out!”

“Or what?” He grinned around the cigarette. “You’ll call the police to come and pick me up from your unregistered death clinic, Nix?”

“Or I will tell my brothers you’ve screwed their baby sister twice now, despite getting … oh, what is it, an extra million just to stay away from me?” I blinked slowly, a sugary smile on my face.

Sam snorted, moving toward the door with deliberate leisure designed to drive me nuts.

“Don’t come near me again,” I bit out.

“That won’t be a problem.”

And just like that, he was done.

Leaving me a half-naked mess, smeared in our truths and lies and all the things we couldn’t talk about.

My heart half-broken but held in his bloodied hands.

A few days had passed since I screwed Aisling at her death clinic.

I was sick as a dog and wasn’t showing any signs of improvement.

My fever was up, I threw up everything I put inside my body, and could barely