Page 9 of He Hate Me

“Yes,” she says, breathlessly, “but don’t stop.”

It’s surprising and such a turn that she has this kink. The leash on my desire is getting very short. My cock feels like it’s going to break my zipper. It’s hard to hold back when she’s responding like this. I can already feel the heat radiating from between her legs. I need to explore more of her tight body and see what happens if I push hard enough to make it really hurt.

I sit back and drag my hand down her tummy, watching her squirm a little under my touch. Her panties are still on. I spread her legs wider and slap her pussy hard through the fabric. She jerks and gasps. Her thighs twitch, and for a second I think she might close her legs—but she doesn’t. Her body settles, her legs stay open, and her breathing picks up.

I stare down at her, and she’s still watching me. Her eyes are heavy but alert. I slap harder. Her hips buck, and she lets out a strangled moan, but still she doesn’t close her legs.

“Why did I like that?” she moans. Her expression is puzzled, a little dazed—but there’s more curiosity than confusion in her eyes when they lock with mine. “Do it again.”

I raise my hand and spank her through the fabric, this time landing squarely on her clit. She cries out and bites her lip hard, her hips twisting as her body tries to ride it out. Her legs stay open, though, as if in invitation. I can’t wait anymore.

“Lift your hips,” I tell her.

She does it, and it’s easy to slide her white panties down and off. I push her legs wide open, her flexibility allowing them fall to the sides with no resistance. She lies there completely exposed, her thighs splayed at an almost unnatural angle. I pick up the phone and her bedside lamp so I can get a clear shot of her naked body, especially her little pussy.

“Can you straighten your legs?” I ask. “Like you’re doing the splits.”

Who would have guessed Deja could be such a good girl? She smiles teasingly and stretches her legs until they’re flat against the bed in a perfect center split. Dark chocolate lips pull apart, exposing her soft, coral pink opening.

I adjust my dick, trying to find a position that works, but there’s no way to make that hungry monster fit comfortably in my pants, so I strip off my jeans and underwear. The sense of relief is quickly surpassed by the aching throb of arousal.

I pull her to the edge of the bed and prop the phone against a pillow, angling it toward her face. The important thing is to capture her reaction. I kneel next to the bed and gently separate her labia with my thumbs. She has a neat patch of pubes on her mound and a line of fine, soft hair on the inner edges her labia. Everything else is shaved for swimwear.

“What are you doing?” she asks, drowsily.

“I’m gonna lick you out.” I say.

“Mmm. Jayden did that one time.”

“Who’s Jayden?”

“My ex.” There’s a reason for that, I’m sure. I’m not intimidated by her past, I just don’t want her thinking about him while I’m with her.

“You won’t remember him in two minutes,” I say.

“You’re so arrogant,” she says, chuckling. “Jayden’s a quarterback.”

“I don’t care what he is. This body isn’t his anymore. Now keep your legs open.”

“I am!” She’s not. Her legs are drifting lower, but at my urging she does the splits again, grumbling inaudibly. Then clearly, “What’s the fucking hold up? Do it already.”

“You sound a little thirsty.”

“Will you just put your tongue in already?”

I smile, thinking about what this will sound like on playback. Deja Marcus begging me to eat her out.

Her pussy smells like heaven, but the opening looks barely big enough to fit my finger. Well, we’re going to find out, aren’t we. I dive right in, plunging my wide tongue into her narrow passage, feeling her walls clench around me in resistance. I stiffen my tongue and stab deeper, wiggling it around inside her. She tastes delicious. Not like candy or fruit or any of that bullshit. She tastes like pussy—clean, fresh, aroused pussy. She moans and circles her hips subtly.

I give her whole pussy a lusty lick. I do it again, flattening my tongue over her clit. Her ass clenches as I home in on the sensitive nub, tracing its sides and sucking on it with just enough pressure to make her hips jerk. She’s glistening with a combination of my spit and her juices, and there is a lot of juice.

“Am I better than Jayden?” I ask. I push my index finger inside her, just to my first knuckle. She’s so hot and tight it feels like she’s sucking me in.

“Yes,” she gasps, rocking her hips. She’s hard to get inside, but I really want in. There’s something about the challenge that makes me want to open her up as much as possible. Maybe it’s the way she winces and moves her hips, like she can’t decide if it’s too much or she wants more. I want to give her more. I want to hear her moan and see tears leak down her face. I’m much too big for her—much too big, and the thought of her sobbing while I rip her apart has me close to coming. Fuck!

But not tonight, not like this. I sound like a pussy saying I don’t want to ruin it, but I think she’s a virgin and no girl wants to lose it when she’s high to a guy she doesn’t like. And I don’t just want tonight with her. Imagine getting this every night. Hearing her beg me to hurt her—once she understands that’s what she likes, because I’m not sure she does, and girls can freak and say all kinds of shit if they feel used or confused. No, I was right before—I can’t fuck her. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to just stop.

“I’m going to make you come. Do you think you can be quiet?”