Make Me Hate You

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Tyler husked, his hands raking up my thighs and spreading them more as he settled between them. He was already thick and throbbing in his sweatpants, his erection pressed right where I needed friction the most.

I gasped, arching into him as his teeth grazed the skin of my neck. He bit down hard enough that I knew it’d leave a mark before sucking that same spot tenderly.

“Do you know how badly I want you, Jasmine?” His words were but a low growl as his hands explored — up my legs, gripping the crease where my hips met my thighs, squeezing my waist so hard I hissed in a breath.

“From the day you showed up in those tight, white jeans, that little blue crop top that showed your hips.” He traced the hips he was cursing, making chills race from that point of contact.