Page 33 of Waging War
“I would take my time tasting all of this wetness.”
“Yes,” I whisper, riding his hand.
“Fuck, you’re just a pretty as I knew you would be.”
I get the feeling he isn’t referring to my face.
“Look at this,” he says, pushing my head down to watch as he strokes me. “How perfect you are.”
Oh.
Unable to pull my eyes away, I lean into the sensation building between my legs, humming with pleasure.
He rips his hand from me just before I’m about to climax. I bite back a protest, fighting for control that was never mine to begin with.
“I don’t want you to forget, ”Ben says as his hand finds my neck and wraps around it tight enough to hinder air from fully reaching my lungs, “that I’m not that guy, Hazel.”
I feel the blunt head of him pressing at my entrance. Pushing back, I attempt to drive him forward, but he halts me with a hand just above my tailbone while loosening his hold with the other.
“There won’t be loving words or any promises that I can keep.” He glides into me slowly. “Because you’re right. You can’t trust me, and youshouldhate me.”
I should stop this right now. He’s practically begging me to with every reason he gives.
Just hours ago, he admitted that my dad was alive and he and Jackie are using me just to get what they want. Yet here I am, dripping, panting, and begging for a release that I only want Ben to give me.
Why am I doing this?
But then… it’s obvious, isn’t it?
They say crazy loves crazy, but I say lonely seeks lonely. I think that when a person’s heart has a song so eager to be heard, it searches for a companion. Like an animal howling into the night, it begs for anyone to hear its plea.
And is that not exactly what’s happening here?
I hear the suffering song of Ben’s heart, and enemy or not, it’s impossible to ignore the desolate harmony of my own.
“Yes,” I say, pushing myself back to the point that he fills me entirely.
How many moans will he steal from me? God, he feels soright.
We share a gasp of pleasure, and my lips part with quiet, mewling pants as I ride him, using the couch to help keep my pace steady. His hands fly to my hips as he rides my wave of pleasure.
“Tell me you hate me. I want to hear you say it,” he whispers.
This is insane.
How truly messed up is this man to want to be degraded during sex?
It should tumble from my lips so easily, yet I resist giving him what he’s asked for. Despite the lie, the gang, and all this shit with Diablo, there’s a piece of me that Ben’s stolen for himself. And that piece wants to curl up inside that cold heart and warm it to the point of melting.
Ben digs his fingers into my hips. “Say it, Hazel.”
The pressure of him stretching me has my mouth popping open as I edge my release. He takes over now, punishing me for not following orders. My head wrenches back as he yanks my hair, pounding into me mercilessly.
Slick, wet sounds slap between our bodies, and I moan his name loudly.
“Call me a bastard. Tell me you never want to see me again.” He groans. He’s now as close to his release as I am to mine. “Say you can’t believe you’re letting me so deep inside you.”
I bite my trembling lip.
