“Kai.”
“Yeah.” He sounds defeated, and I don’t like it.
I squirm under him. “Get off me.”
He looks down at me, face expressionless.
“You don’t like this?” He slides his lower body up and grinds his hips against mine, rubbing his hard dick over my pelvis.
Now I wish his fingers were back in my mouth, because at least they’d have stifled the groan that slips out.
Fuck that, I want him to flip me over and hook my mouth like a fish as he slams into me from behind…and I loathe myself for even thinking that. For wanting something so humiliating, sowrongwhen all I should feel is rage. But my anger is burning low, smothered by heat building in places I’d rather die than admit.
All it takes is one broken sound sneaking past my lips, a tiny mewl that somehow captures all the confusion and anger and regret and fucking ovary-aching desire raging inside my head.
A death rattle that signals the end of this war.
He’s been silent, watching, unmoving as I waged my battle…but then his jaw tightens, a muscle twitching beneath his skin like a fuse catching a spark.
One tick.
That’s my only warning before he drops his weight and crushes his mouth against mine.
My body locks up, breath trapped in my lungs, hands clenched, even toes curled tight like I can somehow contain the last of my anger reserves.
Mentally, I’m still spitting mad.
I want to turn away. I want to bite his lips so hard he bleeds.
I need to make him hurt like he keeps hurting me with his stupid unfinished letters and the pathetically cute gift he never sent. For stealing my book, and then lying about having read it.
For stealing my heart, and then spitting on it.
But that uninvited contact spreads through me like a wildfire, and it razes every defense of mine to the blackened ground.
I whimper as I fight to hold on to some semblance of control, but all I can think about is how good it felt when he stretched my pussy last night with the same cock that’s resting so heavy and so hard between my thighs.
I try not to respond to his kiss. To play dead so it’s like he’s trying to make out with a corpse. But with every lick and suck and slide of his tongue against mine, my heart beats faster and faster.
My clit tingles.
My fucking pussy aches.
Hating myself, I melt and let the fight leave my body.
Anger becomes eagerness.
Eagerness, desperation.
Instead of struggling, I’m arching against him.
Our kiss is bitter with hate, but there’s no mistaking the toxic, sickly sweet need in our saliva. This feels like the kiss we should have had under that maple tree on my sixteenth birthday.
The deeper I lose myself in his mouth, the harsher his breathing becomes, until he’s panting. He sinks down, hisweight crushing but so comforting at the same time. Covered by him like this, nothing and no one can get to me.
That’s when I feel his cock pressing against my thigh again.
It’s so close to my core, I’m aching for him.
