Page 6 of The Surrender
“Katherine was right. You like the thrill of the chase. The game.” He likes dazzling women and stretching out the seduction, bending them, making them fold under his power until they beg him to blow their world apart.
“At first, yes.” He finally faces me. Faces the mess he’s made of me, because make no mistake, I’m a fucking mess, and no amount of makeup, hair spray, and a fancy outfit can disguise that. His jaw tics, a sign of his temper flaring. He’s glaring at me like this is all somehow my fault. “Yes, you were a bet, but then I got an unhealthy dose of obsession, and the game wasn’t so much fun anymore.”
“You poor thing,” I say tightly, making his eyes darken to the shade I know so well. Teal. Not muted or soft, but dark, the perfect blend of green and blue. The perfect shade of angry. “So the voucher for the spa day—you had that sent to Abbie?” His brother’s reaction comes back to me. How surprised he was that Arlington Hall was offering discount spa days.
“I did,” he confirms.
“And the conference?”
He inhales. “Anouska’s boyfriend manages the Hilton on Park Lane.”
“Jesus,” I breathe over a laugh, breaking our eye contact. “What about the partners’ gathering I was invited to at Evelyn’s?”
“I had nothing to do with that.”
“Oh, how good of you.” I jump in my seat when he smashes his balled fist down onto the armrest between us. Why the hell is he so angry? Stalking me, finally getting me where he wants me, and now he’s all het up and aggressive? This was a waste of my time. I’ve got my answers.
He’s a whore, and I’m an idiot.
“If being a first-class wanker was a sport, you’d be the fucking champion, Jude Harrison.”
“And if denial was, you’d win that one, Amelia.” He turns his eyes my way, and I withdraw, hurt, as his gaze falls to my lips.
Just as Enigma’s “Sadeness” filters through all the speakers.
I laugh in disbelief under my breath, outraged, but the swirling fury immediately starts mixing with something else entirely different.
Desire.
I stare at Jude as he stares at me, and I’m ambushed by the memory of his hands working my muscles. Right before he turned me onto my back on the massage table and brought me to climax for the first time with his mouth. I can’t say it was the start of his seduction. Because the start was the second I looked into his eyes. But that moment in the Library Bar wasn’t the first timehesawme.
“No.” I whisper the word, feeling my body tightening.
“Yes,” he retorts, unapologetic.
“No, Jude. I’m not doing this again.” Humphrey stops at some lights, and I open the door to get out. To escape. I’ve had enough of this shit, and I’m terrified I’ll fold under his power and our unmistakable, maddening chemistry. Why the hell did I get in this car?
“Wait.” Jude grabs my arm, and I still, my worst fears realised. My skin burns under his touch, my heart beats faster, and my stomach twists and turns, the connection electric and irresistible. “We can have angry sex now,” he virtually grates, “you can take everything out on me, or we—”
I slam the door and launch myself across the seat, crashing my mouth onto his and kissing him like I hate him. I need to be rid of this building, burning pressure inside. Pressure that’s a mix of desire and frustration. The desire is self-explanatory. The frustration is a result of my fucked-up desire for him.
Jude pulls me onto his lap. I fist his hair at his temples, straddling his waist, and he’s with me in an instant, his tongue battling with mine as he yanks his trousers open, shoves my skirt up my legs, and wrenches my knickers aside. I feel the hard, wet head of his arousal push at my opening, and inhale as I slam myself down, crying out into his mouth as he repeatedly mutters “Fuck” into mine. The burning ache subsides. The music seems to get louder.
We still, both of our bodies rolling, both of us panting, our mouths touching.
“Are you going to argue with that?” he asks, nipping at my tongue. “I dare you, Amelia. I fucking dare you to argue with how good that feels. Howright.” He thrusts up, pushing himself deeper inside, and I moan my despair, rolling onto his invasion, yanking at his hair. “Fuck!” he yells, reaching for my top and pulling it down. My breasts fall out, and his hands cup them harshly, squeezing. “God, I’ve missed this body. Come on, baby. Fuck me like you hate me.” He lifts me and slams me back down. “Give me all you’ve got.” His mouth resumes attacking mine, and we go at each other like two people possessed, our kissesmessy and wild, our bodies pounding into each other as I ride his lap, forcing his head back to the seat. His hands squeeze my boobs harder, and his cock seems to grow inside me, swelling, throbbing, filling me lusciously to the brim.
With every powerful pound, I feel a little bit more stress leave me. With every lash of his tongue around mine, I feel the anger dissolve. It shouldn’t. I should still be raging with him.
On that thought, I lift and smash down onto his lap.
“Fuck,” he barks, moving his hands to my head and grabbing my hair.
I go again, whimpering at the pain I’m causing myself. It’s a better pain. A pain I know will fuck off when I’m done.
“Amelia!”
I lift, hover, groan, relishing his matching moan. And smash back down, grunting, biting at his bottom lip like a savage.
