Because he never gives me what I want, he pulls out.
I want to kill him. I want to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until that smug expression disappears. But I want him inside me more, and we both know it.
“Tell me something real, Ken Doll,” he says.
“I hate it when you call me that nickname,” I admit.
“Because my brother gave it to you?”
He slams into me, and my next words dissolve into a moan.
He fucks me like he’s angry, like he’s trying to punish us both for being here when we said we wouldn’t. I give it right back, biting and scratching and calling him every name I can think of between moans. This is war, and every thrust feels like a battle neither of us is willing to lose.
“Harder,” I demand, feeling the orgasm building so fast.
He drives deeper until I’m seeing stars.
“I want more,” I say, knowing he’s filling me so full that I feel like I might split in half.
He pulls out completely and flips me onto my stomach before I can protest, yanking my hips up and slamming back in from behind. The new angle makes me cry out, and I bury my face in the pillow to muffle the sound.
“Be a good girl and keep quiet.” His voice is ragged now, that composure cracking.
“How about you fuck me like you hate me?” I ask.
He reaches around to find my clit. “I already am. And you know it.”
I can’t form words anymore. He’s playing my body like he’s memorized every weak point, every spot that makes me fall apart. When I come, it tears through me without warning, and I lose my grasp on reality.
Soon, he’s losing himself with a groan, his hips stuttering against mine before I collapse below him. We lie there, breathing hard, his weight pressing me into the mattress, and for a moment, neither of us moves.
Then he’s pulling out of me, reaching for his sweatpants before I’ve even caught my breath.
“This really shouldn’t happen again.”
“Tell that to your dick,” I say with a smirk.
He pauses at the connecting door, his back to me. I can see the scratch marks I left on his shoulders, red lines against tan skin. His teammates will see that. It will only confirm that he was with someone while on the road.
“We need to figure out what the fuck we’re doing.”
“Following our arrangement,” I say. “That’s what we’re doing. Do you need a reminder of what that is?”
“That wall you put up is real cute, Ken Doll. There are cracks in it though.”
He turns to look at me, and for a second, I think he’s going to say something else. His expression shifts, and I see something vulnerable flash across his face before he walks away.
Instead, he shakes his head. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Likewise, Pattycakes.”
The door clicks shut behind him.
I stare at the ceiling, but I’m smiling in sheets that smell like bad decisions.
My phone lights up on the nightstand, and I reach over and grab it.
Chef
