Page 25 of Hostile Love
One last time won’t hurt––that much.
I position my knees at either side of his thighs, drag my tongue along my palm to wet it and slide my hand between us, groping the fullness of his dick.
Matheus sucks in slowly through gritted teeth and his skin reacts with hundreds of goosebumps all over his delicious masculine chest.
Having him beneath me, with this level of control, is the hottest sensation ever.
My gentle strokes give him a full body tremor and me––God––I’m tingling all over too.
With his dick thick and hard, it’s the strongest I’ve ever felt it and the way he’s watching every move I make has me wound up.
A hand dives into my hair, his fingers weaving through the strands. In a beat, he’s upright and his other hand secures me tight to him.
With our chests pressed together, I feel the power of his heartbeat thumping against mine. The fast tempo of it is wild and untamed, telling me he’s trying hard to behave.
But it won’t last long.
I dip into his face, my hand no longer rubbing his dick and whisper at the edge of his mouth, “You’re right, Mat. I want to have sex with you. To have you deep inside of me. I’d beg you for more, over and over again. But that doesn’t mean I want to do it forever. I have a little crush on you. That’s all. And you knowwhat happens to crushes? They get crushed. And I move on to the next hard dick.”
The hand in my hair shoots to my neck and tightens around my windpipe.
I suck in sharply, panicked by the storm swirling in his eyes, and wonder if this would end in bloodshed.
8
MATHEUS
“Shut the fuck up, little firecracker!” I grit out behind clenched teeth, almost snarling at her. “There won’t be another dick. And even if yourcrushdies…" I mock the disrespectful choice of word she had used. “…my love for you won’t.”
Her eyes widen as if the sentiment is alien to her. The word love isn’t something I’d throw out just to see if it fits the moment.
I meant those four little letters like they were woven through her name and inked on my skin.
I wouldn't say it unless she meant something to me.
But now she’s quietly staring at me. My stomach knots and that familiar wave of rejection makes the edges of my vision feather, black and violent, like never before.
The harder I tried to impress my father, the less he cared about me. After walking away from him once and for all, I existed in a different world where I didn’t have to beg to be seen.
Greedy women tripped over themselves to be noticed byme.
Power hungry guys wanted to hang out withme.
Strangers constantly tried to befriendme.
It was exhausting, but I had an abundance of attention. I had it all and yet nothing important that I wanted to hold on to for long.
Beneath the surface, I understood my mother’s unconditional love would always be there and my brothers’ guidance never stopped––but still, something was missing.
I’d wake up every day, snort emptiness up my nose and ignore the hollowness in my chest. The days became too heavy and the nights a blur.
But the higher I soared, the lower I sank.
I was fucking miserable.
And then I met this woman and the lost guy somehow felt found.
Despite the way she reacts to my touch, it could simply be a lust that fades like the summer heat right before winter.
