I Hate You - Ilsa Madden-Mills Page 0,58
going too far. I’m skirting the edges of the rabbit hole that he is, this inescapable desire, and it’s going to hurt me later—
He must read my face. “Don’t think, Charisma. Look at how much I want you.”
He squeezes the head of his cock, doing a twisting motion that makes me gasp.
My nipples respond to him like there’s an electric current between us, and I play with them, pinching and rolling them between my fingers in time with his strokes, my legs scissoring at the fire that’s building there.
His hands are fast and he shudders with each upward stroke, his broad shoulders quivering, his waist arching.
“Blaze…” I’m breathless.
“Say my name, Charm. Say it.”
“Blaze, Blaze, Blaze—”
He lets out a grunt and liquid spurts from his cock, spilling out over his jeans and running over his hands.
He reaches over to the nightstand, grabs a tissue from the box there, and wipes himself off, sweeping up the mess with hands that tremble. Then he’s in my face and pushing a strand of hair back. “You didn’t get off.” Blue eyes glitter down at me.
“Was enjoying the show.”
“I want to make you come.”
“You did, at the party. We’re even.”
But…
Thick need has taken up residence inside my body, the warm honey of desire licking at every molecule inside. My fingers touch my silver nipple ring and, combined with him staring at me, it’s almost enough to get me—
“I’ll barely touch you. Just close your eyes.”
There’s a hint of authority in his tone and everything inside me wants to resist, but he has power over me, something no one else has ever had.
I let my lashes lower.
“Don’t move.”
I nod.
What’s he going to do?
The air from the fan drifts across us as the moment stretches into several seconds. I can feel the heat of his gaze on me, and I know he’s staring, his eyes heavy and low.
His tongue licks at my ear, biting my lobe softly, and I start, having expected him to go for my breasts. I strain toward him as he works his mouth down my neck, licking my skin. His nose trails down my nape and skates to my collarbone.
I squirm, my hips arching off the bed, estimating where I think his hips are, but there’s nothing. Finally his hands cup both my breasts, and I cry out.
My head falls back. “Oh, oh…”
“Touch yourself. Here,” he says as his hand briefly touches the crotch of my leggings and then is gone.
My hand plays with the waistband before slipping underneath to the hem of my black lace panties.
“More.” His lips suck my skin while his hand teases my piercing, tugging and brushing over the sensitive skin until I’m falling, falling.
I push aside my curls until I find my slick, wet folds. Groaning, I go deeper, finding the wetness in the center.
“Are you soaked?”
“Yes.”
“All for me.”
“Yes.”
He pushes my legs farther apart. I think about him staring again, and it’s embarrassing how my hips arch, still finding nothing. He must be standing and bending over me.
“Push your panties down.”
I fumble around until my leggings and panties are at my ankles. I kick them off.
He makes a sound in the back of his throat as his hands part my legs. “I want my tongue there. I want you sitting on my face. We never did that either, did we? It was just straight-up fucking for us…doggy style in the library…then my dorm, up against the wall.”
No, I don’t like that distant tone is his voice—not now.
“Blaze—”
“Faster. Two fingers.”
I do as he says, opening myself up and giving up my control as I touch that little spot close to my opening that makes me crazy. My lips part and I breathe faster. My fingers feel so good, and my legs twitch. When I go to push them together, to get privacy in this, he stops me with his hands, holding them apart.
“Let me watch. Give up that control, baby.”
He kisses my neck and then sucks. “Do you hear that sound you’re making? Do you hear how you can’t breathe? And the sound of your pussy… I like thinking about you getting off when you think about me. How many times did you touch yourself when we weren’t together?”
“Too many to count.”
The sound of fabric shifting and a zipper going down reaches me, and he lets out a strangled noise. “I’m going to jack off again, Charm. You good with that?”
“Why wouldn’t I be,” I mumble. I can’t even think straight.
“I dream about this. Two o’clock in the morning