Page 38 of Devious Beloved


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His words shock me.

“Me? Make it hard? Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t realize it was you getting blackmailed and forced to marry someone you don’t love and only fucked once.” My voice is full of sarcasm.

“And I’ve tried to make it easier, tried to make it so when it’s over, we won’t have any ties. But you’re making it very fucking hard.”

“Fuck you.”

“You say that a lot to me. Is that perhaps something you want to be doing? Fucking me?”

“No. I’ve made that mistake already,” I retort.

He slams on the brakes, his hand coming out to stop me from jolting too far forward. Then he turns in his seat. “You’re a real fucking bitch right now,” he says, as a horn honks behind us. He doesn’t move.

I lean in closer. “Yes. Yes, I am.” I pause. “I’m the one you fucked, remember,” I say, my head dropping to the side.

“What a mistake that was,” he replies.

“I couldn’t agree more, asshole.”

A horn honks again, and he takes off, not saying another word until we reach the house.

He starts quickly speaking as I step out of the car. “By the way, you’re in my bed tonight. I’ve burned yours.”

Then he walks inside, leaving me standing next to the car looking at his retreating form.

What the hell?

There isn’t a bed in my room anymore, it’s now empty. Not even my clothes are in here. After taking off my heels, I carry them in my hands as I walk to the door next to mine, to his room. He’s sitting on the end of his bed, paperwork in hand, and when I turn to look at his closet it’s full of clothes, and not just his, mine as well.

“We aren’t sharing a bed.”

He looks up. “Feel free to sleep on the floor then, but I must say my mattress is heaven.” Whiskey stands, removing his shirt as he walks away and into the bathroom. I watch as he goes. Once he’s out of sight, I look for pajamas, which is going to be hard, considering I don’t sleep in any. Finding an old shirt, I place my heels in his closet where all my other things are located.

I decide to head to my old room for a shower. When I reach the door, I find it locked. Ugh. I walk back to his room, and he steps out with a towel wrapped around his waist. My heart picks up speed, and I have to remember to look away.

I stare at him.

I want him.

That’s evident.

But only someone ridiculously stupid would want someone who’s using them. And I don’t want to be used.

“Do you need help getting undressed?” His words seem to unfreeze me.

“My bathroom is locked,” I manage to say.

“Yes. I told you this is your room now. That room is being torn apart.” He walks to his closet and drops the towel to the floor. His ass comes into view and words seem to evade me. I watch as he doesn’t bother dressing just turns around.

All I see is cock.

A lot of cock.

I cover my eyes and hear him laugh.

“If I remember correctly, you weren’t covering your eyes last time,” he says as I peek through my fingers.

“Yes, but in my defense I was drunk.”

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