Page 25 of The Cruelest Kind of Hate
“If you want to fuck me, Gage, you’re going to have to beg,” she drawls.
Look, I’m a man who loves getting on his knees for a woman, but I say when I get on my knees and for whom. Cali’s already made it clear she’s not going to give in so easily, and I’m on a mission to show her just how wrong she is.
I gently push her hand aside, that starving beast inside of me stalking closer to the surface, jangling the bars of its cage and upturning my restraint with a single, self-destructive body slam. My cock kicks against my sweatpants, a carnal kind of craving spooling in the depths of my belly.
“I’m not going to fuck you, Calista,” I tell her, and maybe it’s the sex high talking, but I swear she looks disappointed. “But I’ll make you wish I had.”
I crook my arms around Cali’s legs, hoist her up onto me, and internally wince when my hip nearly caves from theadditional weight. Though I’d take an eternity of hip pain for Cali to touch me like she is right now. The great thing about her apartment is that the kitchen and living room feed into one another, so there’s only a small amount of distance I need to cross to get her on the dining table. I’d be a gentleman and carry her to her bedroom, but we both know I’m not a gentleman.
Pins and needles plague my leg every step of the way, but the moment I set her on that hardwood surface, I can’t think about anything else but shoving my face between her thighs until she’s screaming my name.
Her initial shock apparently hasn’t worn off yet considering she hasn’t opened her mouth once to insult me, and she gifts me with a bright blush skittering over her clavicle. She looks like a fucking goddess sitting before me, thighs bookending my hips and the soft swell of her belly filling with anxious inhales.
I place a kiss on her shoulder, sliding my index finger under her bra strap and slipping it down her arm. “How expensive is this?”
“Expensive,” she gasps, pushing her voluptuous breasts out to me, those little pink buds sticking straight through the mesh covering.
“Good thing I have a lot of money,” I say, and in one smooth motion, I tear her bra down the middle, the rip of the fabric ricocheting off the kitchen walls. Her tits spill out with a jiggle, and her expression instantly darkens, that habitual snarl of hers catching somewhere in the back of her throat.
“Gage…”
Fuck, I’m loving this too much.
I attach my mouth to her freed nipple, lapping at the sensitive area with a snap of my tongue, and I use one of my hands to massage the squeezable mound of her tit. She rests on her hands as her neck lolls back, and when the quietest of moansfilter out of her, I’m so far gone that I’ve surpassed the ozone layer.
I suckle the small bud with vigor, indenting it with a gentle press of my teeth, all while Cali’s hand weaves into my hair.
“Oh, God. I…” Whatever she was going to say gets broken by another mewl, and her cunt is flush with my aching balls, grinding into my hard cock with punishing rolls, searching for the one desire we have in common at this point—sweet, sweet release.
I nearly lose my balance, and it’s not because of the flare in my hip. I pop off her breast, seeing her nipple glint with a layer of saliva. “You have no idea how perfect your tits are, Cali. They were made for my mouth. The minute I saw them in that black dance bra, I wanted to fondle them, fuck them with my tongue, bite them and leave my mark.”
Her words brim with faux vexation. “If you give me a hickey, I’m punching you in the balls.”
I skim my lips over hers, taunting her with a kiss, wanting to swallow the notes of sugar clinging to the inside of her mouth. “I’ll make sure to leave it somewhere out of view.”
Before she can protest, I grab a handful of her panties and rip them from her body, not even bothering with making a clean tear down the middle. The flimsy material snaps in my fist, and the straps of her garters slide down her calves, puddling at her ankles along with her stockings. She’s completely bare before me except for the trimmed curls of hair smattering the hood of her drenched clit.
I can smell the intoxicating musk of her from here, and my mouth waters at the thought of the cloying taste of her juices pulsing over my tongue when she comes. Sweet and warm, like caramelized sugar popping on a scalding stovetop.
“Jesus, she’s pretty. Such a pretty pussy,” I whimper, staring at the wet, pink folds of her cunt, desire igniting in my chestand polluting my lungs with a thick, opaque smoke. Is this what it means to be pussy-whipped? Because I am.I so fucking am.
“I’ll finish myself if you don’t hurry the fuck up,” she threatens.
For that to happen, I’d have to be buried six feet deep. Maybe seven.
I grab both of her wrists in a bruising hold, pin them to the table roughly, and relish in the way her body rocks forward from the force.
“Are you going to behave and shut that pretty mouth of yours, or do I need to do it for you?” I growl, challenging her with an unwavering stare.
Cali sloughs off her belligerence and shakes her head, not daring to defy me with a smart-ass comeback.
“If this is what it took for you to be quiet, I would’ve done it a lot sooner.”
And then I bend down to her cunt, nestle my nose in her pubes, and rumble, “Now hold still. I didn’t eat dinner before I came, and I’m fucking starving.”
I don’t bother with fingers because I know what my girl needs. She needs me buried so deep in her pussy that I don’t come up to breathe until I’ve guzzled every last drop of cum.
I lash my tongue over her slit, circling it to spur an accumulation of pressure, and upon contact, her hips lift off the table.
