Page 24 of The Cruelest Kind of Hate
I can feel her pulse palpitating under my fingertips. The smallest, expertly placed pinch making her heart thump like a kick drum. Her life in my hands for a change.
“And if he touched you, I would fucking kill him.”
“Because you want me,” she finishes, staring directly into my eyes, pools of sapphire melting the very legs I’m standing on.
“More than anything in this world, Spitfire,” I finally confess.
9
A GLUTTON FOR PUNISHMENT
GAGE
My lips smash onto hers before my brain can leash me, and she takes only a second to return my eagerness, mauling me with the same desperation and urgency.
Something changes inside of me. I don’t know what, but I can feel it.
With my dick nestled snugly against her belly, I release her wrist from my hand and opt to intertwine our fingers, using her to steady myself despite the wall supporting both our weights. As the kiss escalates from timid touches to a feverish flurry of tongues, I free the groan trapped in my chest and roll my pelvis over her sexy, red-clothed center. Her other hand comes up to enmesh in my hair, pulling the strands harshly enough to leave a buzz along my scalp.
I slowly unpeel my fingers from around her throat, slithering them down to her panties, where I take the string on her waist and snap it against her flesh.
“If I were to slip my hand beneath your underwear, how wet would you be?” I ask, rubbing the frilly lace between my pads, inching closer to that perfect pussy of hers.
“Drier than my grandmother’s ashes,” she says, hiking her leg up the side of my hip and draping it over my ass. I trade the thread of our fingers to support the underside of her thigh, scoring my nails into the fat there.
Our mouths are still close, so I take advantage of the space and rake her bottom lip between my teeth. When I let go, it snaps back with apop.
“You’re lying.”
She furls her fist tighter in my hair. “You’re overconfident.”
“It’s endearing,” I quip breathlessly.
“It’s annoying.”
She’s such a brat. And it’s so fucking hot. She’s enjoying this just as much as I am, but she’d never admit it. Her dilated pupils, the goose bumps riddling her skin, her pebbled nipples, the slight flush of her face.
There’s a delicious stretch in my lower abdomen, intensified by the pressure mounting in my balls, and I spurt pre-cum into my boxers, needing to thrust my dick inside of her more than I need my next breath of air.
Even though her leg’s strangling the life out of my hip, the pleasure outweighs the pain. “Calista,” I whisper, tonguing the roof of my mouth to get that sensualL, testing how incredible her full name sounds when it’s recited in the husky timbre of my voice.
She ruts her hips into the air, begging for me to tend to that unbearable ache between her legs—the spot Iknowis leaking for me. “Only my friends get to call me Calista,” she hisses under her breath.
With her waist angled, the gusset of her thong nearly splits her clit in half, and I run my finger over her exposed, puffy lips, feeling her shiver under my touch. “That’s right. We aren’t friends, are we? You hate me.”
A growl rattles in her ribs. “Yeah, I do.”
“Fuck, that turns me on,” I moan, throwing my head back.
“You know I can’t stand you, right?”
“You don’t need to stand at all, Spitfire. And you sure as shit won’t be able to when I’m done with you. I just need you. Whatever you’ll give me. Fucking burn me for all I care.”
Cali lowers her leg that’s hooked around me and spreads her thighs apart slightly, stretching her panties in the process. Her lust-clouded eyes stay on me as she takes two fingers and swipes them through her sopping clit, then she sucks her own arousal off with hollowed cheeks.
This girl’s going to be the death of me, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
When she unsuctions her digits from her pouty lips, she places them against my mouth, letting the heady scent of her linger. She doesn’t apply any pressure to push them between my lips. No, she doesn’t give me the satisfaction. She exacts the control she knows she has over me.
