on destroying everything good that comes our way. Nash wants me to lose control. He wants to have me vulnerable, to feel the way he did, helpless to this desire. It’s why he won’t let me touch him. Why he fights me, denies everything, blames me for it all. He wants me to foot the bill for everything he wants.
I don’t lose control. And I don’t do vulnerable.
My build-up recedes, and with my hand on his throat, I shove Nash down. He fights me at first until he can no longer deny what he wants, dropping to his knees and staring straight ahead at the red, engorged cock in front of him.
“Open up,” I mutter, and he looks up at me, the boiling hatred still obvious in his eyes.
Then he does. Slowly he lets his tongue roll out of his open mouth, letting me drop the head of my dick against the warmth of it.
“Still hate me?” I ask as I slide the small beads of pre-cum against the surface. Then, I slide myself in, and he closes his lips around me like he’s been dying to do it again. A tingle slides its way up my spine remembering the first time he did this. How fucking hot he was, taking my dick in his mouth. So nervous and unsure. So turned on he had to stroke himself at the same time.
“Do you, Nash? Do you still hate me?”
I nearly hit the back of his throat as he practically swallows my cock, but he doesn’t let up. He starts bobbing up and down almost angrily, but he won’t look up at me anymore, practically suffocating himself. When his eyes start to water, I run my hands through his long hair, pulling his head back so he can look up at me.
“Those tears tell me all I need to know.”
With my hands buried in his hair, I fuck his mouth, five or six hard strokes until I shoot down the back of his throat.
When he pulls away, he wipes his mouth, staring blankly ahead as I stuff myself back into my pants.
Neither of us says a word for a moment until he stands, glaring at me with something new. Not anger, but resignation.
Surrender.
Defeat.
“I’m sorry shit is complicated, Nash. I’m sorry the last time you were in love, you had your heart broken, but I’m not sorry you are the way you are. And I’m not sorry about anything that’s happened between us, so if you want me to apologize, then you can fuck off.”
Leaving him there, I turn away and head back down the hallway that leads to the kitchen, but the moment I reach the room, I stop, frozen in place as I stare at Hanna, who is watching me with wide eyes, heartbreak written all over her face.
13
Oh my God. I just happened to catch Nash pushing Ellis down the hall, and I only came in hoping to diffuse the situation, but what I ended up overhearing was definitely not a fight. It was most definitely the sound of Nash choking on Ellis’s…
Fuck, I’m such an idiot. How did I not see this? I threw myself at Ellis, and I wondered why he didn’t want me back. Now, I know it’s just because he’s…
And Nash? Is he?
Thoughts are firing off in my mind, the sounds of him and Nash replaying in my head, the words he said to him.
“Hanna,” Ellis states so clearly I don’t know if he’s announcing my presence or making a plea.
Out of everything going on in my head right now, not one thing is what I should say. Instead, I turn on my heels and rush out of the room toward the patio. I don’t get far before his hand is latched onto my arm.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“Don’t apologize to me,” I snap, glaring up at him with fire in my eyes. “You could have told me. You didn’t have to lead me on.”
“Lead you on? You were the one throwing yourself at me.”
With a scoff, I tear my arm away. I don’t want to be mad at Ellis, but my anger boils, threatening to spill over. Why am I so mad at him all of a sudden? Because he let me make a fool of myself. He let me kiss him, try to fuck him, and he could have spoken up at any moment.
Before going to the patio, I snatch the two drinks off the bar and rush out the door. As I reach