An accident in the lab and everything changed. Now every inch of me is her, and she’s stuck sitting next to him.
When the liquid splashed on my hands I didn’t think twice about it. I didn’t know what it would do to me when it settled in and what changes it would put me through. I didn’t know until it was all too late.
I can feel it under my skin, this hot and eager need. I can feel it in the way that I move and the way that I look at the world. In the way I look at the men around me.
Did it have to be him? My old bully picking me up and giving me a ride back to my hometown. Did he have to be the one who sparked this need in me? Did he have to be the one to urge me to let it all go?
My new body aches for this horrible man like it doesn’t know what he put me through. It knows what he can give to me. It knows what he wants to take.
And my body knows that it has needs, needs that my bully is only too eager to satisfy.
Excerpt
I swallowed, hoping he didn’t notice but knowing that he probably did. He had my number, he had me dead to rights. I did want him and I wanted him in a big way because he was Billy Layton and because, against all reason and sense, that somehow made it all so much better.
“Why?” I breathed out.
“Because there are few fucks better in this world than a hate fuck, Mal,” he cooed so sweetly at me, “Because hate fuck is right up there with revenge fuck. Because everything is heightened when you fuck an enemy and because we humans are broken little animals who get off on having something they know is bad for them.
“We’re going to fuck because we crave it and we crave it for the same reason people crave chocolate. We don’t crave the taste. We crave it because it’s bad for us, a naughty little treat.”
He turned to look at me again, no subtly in his gaze as he ran those eyes of his up and down my body. I felt it just as sure as if it was his hands running over me.
“That’s what you are, sweet,” he smiled, “My naughty little treat.”
I inhaled slowly and it came out in a long and ragged exhale. My eyes flared a little, a little bit of delight behind them as I licked my lips and blinked at this man.
“You know me though,” I said, “You know that I’m… That I was… That I was a guy…”
“So?” he said.
“You want me?” I asked, hating the desperation in my voice, “You still want me?”
His hand released my thigh and his wrist twisted, breaking my grasp on him so quick and showing me in a moment that my hold on him was fully dependent on only the illusion of my strength. He spun his hand around and grasped my wrist, pulling my hand over to his side of the car and slipping it down to press against his own jeans. My palm slid over his inner thigh, my fingers curled around something long and hard and thick and hot.
And I might have been a fool but it took me a moment to figure out what it was. I thought it was a bat, an iron rod, but it was obvious all from the start and it was clear when it pulsed against my fingers.
“Does that lie?” he asked me, “Does that feel like I don’t want you?”
Billys grip on my hand slipped away but my hand didn’t move. Almost automatically I slid my hand up and down the length of him, marveling at his dimensions.
The man was big, that much was clear even through his pants. He was big and he was thick and he was hard and he put my cock, when I had it at least, to absolute shame.
I felt my mouth go dry as I felt my jaw start to ache at even the merest idea that I would be tasting him soon but I knew that I would. I’d already accepted it, taken it as a given. The sound of his zipper as he undid his jeans only cemented it, and I moved my hand without question as I slipped it inside and withdrew every last inch of him.
It was a little like I was watching this all happen from a third-person perspective but you can be sure that I was fully in control. I needed this, beyond sense or reason, and I found a logic in his words and in the promise that it would be good because it would be wrong.
A hate fuck, what a fun little idea.