Chapter 34 #2
“You lie,” I panted, rocking against him, my pussy already wet, already aching. “You lie and you lie and you, fuck—” His hips bucked up, grinding his cock against my clit, and I choked on a moan. “You still feel so goddamn good.”
His laugh was bitter, breathless. “Baby, I know.” One hand slid up, palm rough against my bare stomach, thumb brushing the underside of my breast. “I know exactly how good we are. How good you are. How fucking perfect—”
I slapped his chest. “Don’t baby me.”
He caught my wrist, his grip just shy of painful. “Then what the hell do you want?”
His other hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back just enough to expose my throat. His lips found that spot, the spot, and I whimpered, my body going liquid.
“Tell me how to fix this. Tell me how to earn you back.”
“You can’t,” I gasped, but my hips didn’t stop moving, my pussy dragging against his cock, the friction maddening. “You broke it.”
His teeth grazed my pulse point, and I shuddered, my nails raking down his chest. “Then let me break you instead,” he murmured against my skin. “Let me ruin you so good you forget every fucking second without me.”
That did it.
I tore at his shirt, buttons popping, scattering across the floor like tiny explosions.
His chest was just as I remembered—hard, sculpted, the faintest scar above his collarbone from that time in the Adirondacks when we stayed there alone for two months.
Just this. Just his skin under my hands, his breath hot against my neck, his cock throbbing against me.
He flipped us suddenly, pinning me beneath him on the couch, his weight pressing me into the cushions. His mouth crashed down on mine again, his tongue fucking past my lips like he owned them. I bit him, hard, and he groaned, his hips jerking against me.
“That’s it,” he growled, his voice rough. “Fight me. Hate me. Just don’t stop.”
I didn’t. I couldn’t. My hands were everywhere, scratching, gripping, shoving his pants down his hips. His cock sprang free, thick and flushed, the tip already wet. I wrapped my fingers around it, stroking once, twice, before he knocked my hand away with a snarl.
“Not like this,” he panted. “I want you desperate. I want you begging.”
I bared my teeth. “Make me.”
His eyes darkened. Then his hand was between my legs, palm pressing against my sweatpants, right over my soaked pussy. I gasped, my back arching off the couch.
“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he groaned, his fingers rubbing in slow, maddening circles. “All for me. Even when you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” I admitted, my voice breaking. “I wish I did.”
His fingers hooked into the waistband of my sweatpants and yanked, the fabric tearing as he dragged them down my thighs. My tank top followed, leaving me bare beneath him, my tattoos stark against my flushed skin. His gaze raked over me, hungry, possessive.
“Mine,” he growled, low and feral. “You were always mine.”
I should’ve argued. Should’ve told him to go to hell.
But then his mouth was on my breast, his tongue swirling around my nipple before he bit down just hard enough to make me cry out.
His hand slid between my thighs, two fingers plunging into my pussy without warning.
I came with a broken scream, my nails digging into his shoulders, my body clamping down around him.
“There,” he murmured against my skin, his fingers still moving, drawing out every last shudder. “That’s my good girl.”
I was still trembling when he pulled his fingers free, bringing them to his mouth. His tongue flicked out, tasting me, his eyes locked on mine. “Still sweet. Still mine.”
I didn’t have a comeback. I was too busy watching him kick off his pants, his cock jutting out, veined and thick. My mouth watered. I reached for him, but he caught my wrist again, pinning it above my head.
“Not yet,” he said, his voice a dark promise. “I’m not done worshipping you.”
Before I could protest, his mouth was between my legs, his tongue dragging through my folds with a slow, deliberate stroke.
I moaned, my thighs falling open, my body already craving more.
He didn’t make me wait. His lips sealed around my clit, sucking hard, and I cried out, my hips jerking against his face.
“Teddy, fuck, please—”
He groaned against me, the vibration making my toes curl. “Louder,” he demanded, his breath hot against my wet skin. “I want the whole world to hear how good I make you feel.”
I should’ve told him to fuck off. Instead, I moaned his name again, louder this time, my voice breaking. His fingers joined his mouth, curling inside me, finding that spot that made my vision white out. I came again, my body bowing off the couch, my scream raw and unfiltered.
He didn’t give me time to recover. In one smooth motion, he flipped me onto my stomach, yanking my hips up so my ass was in the air. His cock pressed against my entrance, thick and demanding.
“Tell me you want this,” he growled, his hand tangling in my hair, pulling just enough to make me gasp. “Tell me you need me.”
I did. God help me, I did.
“Yes,” I snarled, pushing back against him. “Now fuck me like you mean it.”
He didn’t need to be told twice.
He slammed into me in one brutal thrust, filling me so deep I saw stars. I cried out, my fingers clawing at the couch cushions, my body already adjusting, already craving more. He set a punishing pace, his hips snapping against my ass, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside me with every thrust.
“You feel that?” he grunted, his grip on my hips bruising. “You feel how good we are? How right?”
“Shut up,” I panted, but my body betrayed me, my pussy clenching around him, my moans growing louder, needier. “Just—harder—”
He gave me what I wanted, his thrusts turning brutal, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. His free hand snaked around my waist, finding my clit, rubbing in tight, relentless circles. I was going to come again. I could feel it building, coiling tight in my stomach.
“Come for me,” he demanded, his voice a dark command. “Come on my cock, Mandie. Now.”
I shattered.
My orgasm ripped through me, my body convulsing, my pussy milking his cock as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. He followed with a groan, his release spilling inside me, hot and thick. He collapsed over me, his chest heaving, his breath ragged against my neck.
For a moment, there was only silence. Only the sound of our hearts pounding in sync, our skin slick with sweat.
Then he pressed a kiss to the spot just below my ear—the spot—and murmured, “I’m not letting you go again.”
I should’ve argued. Should’ve told him to fuck off.
But all I could manage was a shaky breath, my body still humming from his touch.