“Say it,” he demands.
“I don’t want you to stop.”
“Good girl.” He slides his thumbs along my folds and spreads my pussy lips apart. “Beautiful and allmine.”
His strong mouth closes over my clit, and my entire body jerks with pleasure. I grab fistfuls of his flaxen mane and screamout his name, wanting to pull him closer and push him away at the same time. Thick fingers plunge deep inside my aching pussy, deliciously stretching my slick walls as his tongue flicks back and forth over my swollen clit.
“Oh God,” I slur, undulating against his face, completely out of my mind with need. “Oh God, Sandman.”
I fall over the edge into blissful euphoria, my body dripping and writhing uncontrollably.
He brings me to climax again and again—urgency in every caress of his tongue and thrust of his fingers. Maybe this is what happens when unrequited love turns to hate, then to lust, and finally to obsession. It’s the perfect storm, and the worst part is, I’m starting to enjoy the thunder.
I collapse against him, my legs folding beneath me. “I can’t… I can’t. Sandman, please.”
“More,” he rasps, yanking my shoe off and peeling one leg free from my jeans. “I need more.”
He guides my thighs over his shoulders, then his mouth is back on my clit. He sucks my swollen flesh while his fingers seek my warm depths again. He slides his other hand under the curve of my ass and works a finger into my rimmed opening. My moans reverberate through the alley as the throbbing pressure in my feminine core builds again, but it’s different this time. I feel something more… but what that more is, I don’t know.
“What’s… what’s happening?” I moan.
Sandman moves his fingers and tongue with purpose—wild, wet, and greedy.Oh God, it’scoming. A raw sound escapes my throat as a stream of milky liquid gushes from between my thighs, soaking his face and the front of his shirt. Wave after wave of paralyzing ecstasy consumes my entire being as he ravenously drinks from my body. He drinks every drop I have to give, leaving me depleted and limp from exhaustion.
Before I can fully regain my senses, Sandman pins me against the wall with his big body and pushes into me from behind, fillingmy pussy to the hilt. I brace my hands on the crumbling red brick, waiting with both anticipation and dread.
He stills and presses his mouth to my ear. “I’ve waited for this all day.”
“Show me,” I whisper before I can stop myself.
He digs hard fingers into my jaw and angles my face toward his. I meet his gaze and shiver at the feral desire shining in the blue depths. “Tell me you’re mine, Zilphia,” he demands.
My body clenches around his erection, desperately needing him to fuck us both to completion.
He groans. “Tell me.”
“I’m yours.”
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he murmurs, then begins moving inside me, fucking me so achingly slow my toes curl. “I’d lie awake for hours, fucking you a thousand different ways in my mind, wishing it was your pussy instead of my hand giving me pleasure. Now my child is growing in your belly.”
I give him my complete submission because I don’t have a choice, and even if I did, I don’t know if I’d want him to stop. My mind knows he’s the embodiment of toxic as fuck, but my body doesn’t give a damn. Fate won’t be denied, and neither will he. It’s a never-ending cycle of fucked up with him.
He places a lingering kiss on the spot just behind my earlobe, while his expert fingers softly stroke my engorged clit. “You hear how wet she is for me?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
“That’s the sound of your surrender,” he murmurs and pulls back until only the tip of his length is left inside my throbbing center. “I’m the villain in your story, but I’m the one your pussy purrs for. The one who makes you come so goddamn hard you forget your own name.” He slowly sinks back into my heat and stills again. “Prince Charming could never make you this wet.”
He begins pounding into my pussy with bone-jarring force.
“Too rough,” I whimper, but he only fucks me harder.
It hurts, but damn, he’s hitting all the right spots. Each frenziedthrust into my body lifts my feet off the ground. I position a hand beneath my cheek to protect my soft skin from being scraped raw. Our ragged breathing and flesh slapping against flesh echoes in my ears.
The dread I felt is forgotten, replaced with a need beyond my comprehension.I’m becoming just as twisted as he is. He takes without asking and hurts without empathy, but I stay wet and ready for his dick. Our type of fucked up can’t be replicated.
“You’re the air in my lungs, the blood in my veins, and every beat of my goddamn heart,” he rasps, placing a large hand beside mine on the brick wall while keeping the other between my thighs. “Fuck you, Zilphia. Fuck you.”
He’s wrong—I’m none of those things. Hate is the air in his lungs, the blood in his veins, and the driving force in his every heartbeat. Hate is intoxicating. Hate is powerful. Hate is pain. Hate isbeautiful. Hate can be many things, but for him, hate is life.
