Page 90 of Shattered Hate

“Answer the phone,” I repeat, and Daxton scrambles, his hands shaking as he answers, his head dropping back onto the table with a soft thud as I prepare him. The camera focuses on my face, but I switch it around.

“Watch the phone, Daxton.” I breathe, showing the camera as I insert two fingers. His eyes remain fixed on the screen, moans escaping his lips. I remove my fingers.

Dax doesn’t take his eyes off the camera as he pleads, “More, Tray.”

I smile, positioning myself at his entrance. From the camera, I see Daxton’s eyes widen with desire. He looks predatory, and the sight alone makes me close my eyes in pleasure. I slowly enter him as he gasps sharply.

“Count,” I hiss through clenched teeth.

Daxton breathes rapidly. “Count what?”

“Count every inch you take of me, baby.”

“Fuck.” He gasps again as I push in slightly.

“Daxton,” I growl when he doesn’t count.

“One.” He breathes in. I push in again.

“Two.” His voice cracks.

“Three.” His breathing gets heavier.

“Four,” he whines, one hand clawing the table above his head.

“Five. Tray, fuck me,” he begs. I grip his hips tightly so he can’t move as he tries to back up onto me.

“Be patient, baby.”

I get a moan and then a grunt as I push in another inch. When he doesn’t say anything, I pull out slightly.

“Six, six, six,” he cries out.

“Se—” He stops as his eyes roll back, and I grit my teeth because all I want is to bury myself deep inside him. But I want him to see how perfectly he was made for me; how perfect he looks when I’m buried deep inside him.

“Seven,” he finishes.

“Two more inches, baby, and you’ll see how perfect we look together.”

I push myself in one more inch, gripping his hips tightly as I struggle not to go all the way.

“Eight,” he rushes out, eager for me to push myself to the hilt. I can’t hold back either as I finish in one quick motion, and he screams, “Nine!”

“Nine whole inches of me inside you, baby. Look, look how tight you grip me.” Daxton tenses, and I almost drop the phone from how intense it feels.

“I don’t just want to fuck you, I want to love you, Dax.” Remembering what I said when I told him I hated him, and I just wanted to fuck him.

He gasps. “Then fuck me and love me, Tray.” He moans.

He stares at the camera, eyes wide as I pull back and push deep into him, gripping his hips and pulling him into me as I do.

“Jesusshitfuck.” I grit as I pull back, feeling like I’m going to come already. “You feel too good. I’m not going to last long.” I moan. I wanted this to last longer, but he always does this to me. He draws me in and leaves me wanting more.

I keep up my relentless thrusts, my hips slamming against him each time. I rise onto my toes, pushing myself as deeply as I can. I want to be inside him forever. Daxton’s hand moves frantically beneath him as he watches the video.

“Tray, oh god, I’m coming.” He moans, his body shuddering, panting breaths escaping his lips. That sends me over the edge. I pull out, spin him around, and pull him off the table to his knees on the floor.

“I don’t want to be dripping out of you at the party. I want you to be full of me. Now, drink me down,” I say, as Daxton’s lips wrap around me. I don’t need to move as I come, his tongue swirling around me, and my legs tremble so much that I grip the table and hold on to Daxton’s head. I lose track of the phone. When I think it’s over, though my body continues to quiver, I pull away and drop to the floor in front of him, pulling him close as we lie on the hotel floor, panting.

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