Page 60 of Fueled Hate

Stroking my hand up and down his length, I take him in my mouth, rolling my tongue over the head of his cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, slightly pumping into my mouth as his fingers tighten in my hair.

Sucking him, I keep one hand on the base of his cock as I grip his solid thigh with the other. He slowly thrusts into my mouth, his pace becoming harder and quicker as I look up at him. His face twists in desire as he pushes into my mouth a final hard time before quickly pulling away from me, his hand covering the head of his cock as my hand continues stroking him. With a groan, he spews his load into one hand while his other grasps my neck, guiding me to stand. Breathing heavily, he drags my mouth to his, kissing me fervently before pulling away and drawing in a deep breath.

“That was amazing.” He bends down to grab his T-shirt, then wipes his hand first before taking mine and doing the same. “Shower with me?” he asks. I nod and let him lead me into the bathroom.

He turns the faucet on, fixing the water temperature until steam rises from the spray. He notices me staring at him, so he stops to slowly pull my naked body against his. “Another first I’m hoping?”

“Yes,” I whisper, thankful that he knows my hesitation and is patient with me. It’s mind-blowing how he can be so accommodating in some ways and so demanding in others—a prime example of how great he is at twisting and turning me. He knows exactly when to push and when to pull.

I step into the tub, facing the stream of water as he gets in behind me. His mouth drops to my shoulder and his hand wraps around me, pressing against my stomach. We stand there for a moment, my back to his front, luxuriating in the warm spray. Then he lathers the soap on me before I turn and do the same to him. It’s so intimate that I almost forget we haven’t had sex yet, haven’t experienced everything together. There’s a part of me wondering why and a part that’s thankful. If everything else is this intense with him, how will sex be and how much will it change things between us?

We step out of the shower, dry off, and walk back into the bedroom. He tosses the covers back, and we slide into the bed, him on his back as I curl up against him. Though I’m totally aware that neither of us are wearing clothes, I feel completely at ease. How can I feel so vulnerable with him yet so safe at the same time? And more importantly, what is he going to do with that power?

32

Dylan

As I wake up, every drop of whiskey I drank last night pounds on my head. What was supposed to be one drink turned into—I don’t even know how many. But Bryce was right, I’d needed a drink and to beg her for forgiveness for being an ass.

Turning my head, I spot her lying on her stomach, the quilt barely covering her ass, revealing her bare back. Her face appears peaceful, her cheek resting against the pillow as she sleeps soundly. Pulling the blanket up to cover her back, I slide out of bed and walk to the bathroom before I do exactly what’s on my mind. The pounding headache doesn’t lessen as I quickly dress then head out to the kitchen. Rummaging around the cupboards, I find a canister of coffee and brew a pot as I continue to search the cabinets.

“What’re you looking for?” Willow asks as she reaches into a cabinet, grabbing out a mug.

“Anything for a headache.” And a hell of a hangover, both from liquor and from Sadie.

Willow walks into the living room, grabs her purse and searches in it as she returns to the kitchen. She pulls out a bottle of aspirin, still searching until she pulls out a second bottle of aspirin that she slaps into my hand, tucking the first bottle back into her purse.

Studying the bottle, I ask, “Do you have anything stronger? My head is killing me.”

“No,” she replies. Grabbing her mug, she fills it to the brim with coffee then stands there, studying me.

Is she suspicious for her friend’s sake, or her own? Willow doesn’t strike me as the type to get involved with anything illegal and with her severe loathing of Kyle, it wouldn’t make sense. “What’s Parker up to this morning?”

“He’s probably just getting off work.”

“Oh. He works nights?” I knew that but I feel like there’s still something I’m missing when it comes to Parker.

“Yep, six days a week. I don’t know how he functions,” Willow says, her fingers gripping the mug in her hands.

Pills can help with that, and it’d help even more if he had a direct supplier. “I’m sure it’s tough, but the money is probably too good to pass up.”

“That’s what he says. It’s not like he needs the money.”

I force a laugh, hoping to seem convincing but I’m not feeling it. “Must be nice. What’s his secret?”

“Trust fund baby, but it never seems like enough. He’s always aiming to make more money.” She stares past me, lost in her thoughts for a moment. “I don’t think it’ll ever be enough.”

I feel like I’m prying where I shouldn’t be, rightfully so, but there’s too much at stake for me not to examine every angle, every possibility. “Why’s that?”

She shakes her head with a nervous tension. “Parker wants to open a shop specializing in exotic cars, but he doesn’t want his family’s money contributing to it in any way. He says it’ll never be his if his grandpa’s money pays for it.”

So, he’s desperate for money and even more desperate not to lose it. That drive could explain the frantic need to hold onto money and a vehicle when it’d set him back even further. Maybe even enough to kill. “Hm. I’ll have to chat with him after the races tonight.”

“Good luck with that. He usually runs straight off to work afterwards.”

That’s odd since Parker stuck around the night Noah won his car and never drove off with it. “I’m sure his hard work will pay off eventually.”