Page 62 of The Cruelest Kind of Hate
I’m expecting resistance from her—like I always get—but her next move consists of her stripping off her heels and tossing them aside. I’m struck dumb as usual by anything she does, unsure how thin the ice I’m standing on is, but then she wastes no time in mauling me, littering sloppy kisses all over my neck.
When she tongues the outline of my pulse point, I smack her on the ass, the sound reverberating in the confines of my bedroom, her skin recoiling under my fingers from the force. She mewls and roughs up my hair with her hand, fisting the roots to steady herself before biting the thin skin just above my collarbone.
A slew of keening moans hurtles out of me, and the pressure she’s exacting on my throat makes me grind my hips against her pussy, letting her feel the weight of my desire while it presses against her inner thigh.
“You gonna leave a mark, Spitfire? You want everyone to know I’m yours?” I taunt, my voice jumping when she begins to suckle and form a tender bruise.
“Don’t need to leave a mark,” she pants, licking a long, thick stripe up the side of my neck. “You’ll be screaming my name loud enough for the whole party to hear.”
My cock fucking shudders from that idea alone, spitting pre-cum into the inside of my undergarment, which is thankfully hidden by so many leaves that nothing will be visible. I get a sharp lance up my abdomen—one colluding with my ever-growing erection—and I’m afraid I’m going to lose my load before I even get inside her. She’s not going to make this easy forme, I already know it. And I’m going to fold. Every. Fucking. Time.
She continues to perfect the hickey, sucking and nibbling, even moving to another area to stipple a motley mulberry over my naked skin. And as she tortures me, her giant breasts flatten against my torso, dangerously close to my face.
“Bra. Off. Now,” I growl.
She unlatches her lips from my throat, a fine layer of spit coating them. “You’re a big boy. Do it yourself,” she hisses.
Look, I don’t have Herculean strength or anything, okay? Cali’s just conveniently happened to wear a lot of poorly made clothing whenever we’ve done anything. My hands demolish the bra that’s been teasing me all night, a tornado of plastic leaves flying all over the place, and her tits bounce free, swaying from their heavy weight. They’re perfect. Everything about her is perfect.
Haloed in moonlight, my attention homes in on the beaded points of her nipples, my mouth watering to taste her flesh again. It’s been too long.
“Need those gorgeous breasts in my mouth, Spitfire. Better yet, need to slide my dick in between them and watch them bounce as I tit-fuck you.”
“If you get cum in my hair, I’m going to castrate you with a pair of scissors.”
“I’ll take that chance,” I say with a smirk, lowering my head to suck one of her nipples into my mouth, flicking my tongue back and forth over the erogenous zone until I pull my first moan from her.
She pushes her chest into my face, allowing me deeper access, and crude slurping noises muffle around the rosy bud. Her hand entangles in my disheveled hair, tugging until my scalp burns, and I’m pretty sure she rips a few strands out. Itdoesn’t falter my pace, though. I lightly indent her areola with my teeth, dragging them until I get to that delicious pucker, then popping off before she gives me a goddamn bald spot.
“I need you, Gage,” she begs, pain dancing across her screwed-up expression. “I need your tongue in my cunt. I just…oh, God. I need you. Right now.”
Ladies and gents, I present to you something that I never thought would happen in my lifetime: Calista Cadwell begging.
And fuck, does it turn me on more than her insulting me does. Which I didn’t know was even possible.
If I wasn’t loving this so much, I would be the one begging her. My dick is so hard that it hurts like a bitch. And my balls ache to the point where I can feel the pressure escalate in my lower abdomen.
“You gonna admit you’re drenched for me? How I’m the only person who makes your pussy throb and gush like that?” I slap the hood of her clothed clit, watching as pleasure crosses her face, liquifying every muscle in her upper body.
“No…” she starts unconvincingly.
I slip my finger past the gusset of her bikini bottom, contacting the flooded state of her slit and softly brushing over her liquid desire with the pad of my digit.
Her hips cant to take me deeper, and she claws into my back, denting my shoulder blades with her sharp nails. “God, fuck, yes! Yes, Gage!” she cries out, quivering against my chest, nearly coming undone from a single touch. There’s a spent lull in her voice, raspy as all hell, pleading with me to whet her lust.
So sensitive.
“We’re not in heaven. There is no God here. You understand that, Cali? I’m taking you to fucking hell tonight,” I whisper, squelching the length of my finger inside her, all the way down to my knuckle.
I don’t have to move much to get her to squirm, and when Ibegin to make good on my promise with a precise twittering motion, she moans loudly, her cunt squeezing in response. That smart mouth of hers is planets away, slackening with the intrusion of my digit. She’s a whimpering mess while I plunge another finger in, swirling both fingers around, hitting the destruct button that makes her gush even more onto my hand.
“This is nothing,” I warn her, juxtaposing the rough abuse of her cunt with a soft kiss to her cheek. “You keep moaning like that, and I’ll have no choice but to give you my cock.”
Trapped in the throes of absolute rapture, she keeps her watery gaze on me, a litany of whimpers fighting their way up her throat. The more I tend to her pussy, the more frequent her squeezes become, her pelvis thrashing and the swell of her belly drawing in with anticipation.
She goes to open her mouth—probably to damn me—but I cover it with my free hand, scissoring my digits until a ring of sticky liquid lathers around the base of them. “You don’t get to talk. Listen. Listen to how wet you are.”
She mewls against my palm, but it’s muted beneath the loud squelching of her cunt.
