His gaze was dark and heavy, lust covering every single feature that I’d grown to love. “Let me hear you say it.”
“Say what,” I panted, still arching my body for his touch, like I’d die without it. “What do you want me to say?”
His eye twitched. “Say you never stopped caring about me. Say you always felt the pull that I felt. Tell me you want me as bad as I want you.”
If only he knew.
My gaze never left his. “I want you.” My words shook the room. “I always have.” I glanced away, keeping myself from saying something that would completely ruin the moment.
Eric stopped breathing. His eyes ping-ponged back and forth between mine, a little worry line forming between his eyes as if he were trying to decide if I was being truthful or not. My hand wobbled as I reached up and smoothed the wrinkle out. “It’s the truth,” I said with conviction. “Now fuck me like you love me—or hate me. Either one. Just fuck me, Eric. Put me out of my misery.”
His eyes flared, and I felt the hot burning stake go through my chest. My pants and underwear were both down and halfway across the room when his warm, wet mouth slipped down in between my legs and coated me from the inside out. Darkness crowded my vision, my fingers pulling at the thick strands of his hair.
This was such an intimate thing to me because I’d never done it. Most of the time, guys wanted me to suck them off, and then they’d finger me before we’d have sex. It was a fast exchange in getting five seconds of pleasure, but this? This made me feel worshiped. Like Eric cared that I felt good.
My eyes flung open as a mind-numbing roll of ecstasy started to seep all around me.
He was going to fucking destroy me, and I meant that both physically and emotionally.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Eric
She was so fucking warm, and tight, and tasted like heaven on my mouth. Everything inside of me was corrupted. The only thing I wanted was to make this girl mine. I wanted her mouth, her pussy, her mind, her heart. I wanted it all.
Madeline’s body moved like a stripper as she fucked my face. Her hips rolled and bucked, and I licked up every last drop that her pussy gave me.
That’s right, baby.
I knew she was close to getting off because her hips moved faster and her moans were unrecognizable. My dick had never been so fucking hard in my life. It was painful, and uncomfortable, and the only thing I wanted to do was fuck her with it. But I was a patient guy. The girl always got first dibs; that was just how it was.
“Eric,” she hissed between clenched teeth, so close to overflowing. I smirked against her clit and brushed my teeth over it, sending her into overdrive. My finger wasn’t even halfway inside her wet walls when she clamped down and rode herself into bliss.
My eyes clung to her as her pink lips parted, making that adorable little O with her mouth. Her cheeks were blazing; sweat glistened on her hair line. Her body trembled in my hands, but we were far from over.
I could stay here all fucking night and fuck her on this very couch. I gave absolutely zero fucks that we were in my living room.
Her breathing was still rushed, her body quaking with sweet little shudders from the high. Her baby blues were hooded and lust-filled as she sat up on her elbows and gazed at me in all her glory.
In the past, I’d never let myself picture her like this. I'd always thought she was hot as hell, fuckable, one of the most attractive girls at English Prep—her blonde hair was like catching sight of the rising sun, her pink lips always appearing so soft and kissable. And although I’d always felt overly attracted to her, unable to keep my hands from touching her when we were alone, I didn’t let myself conjure up this image, because I knew it would completely consume me. And it did. Her eyes held so much desire and need that even if it were a life-or-death situation not to touch her, I still would.
I always knew there’d be a day when I’d have Madeline at my mercy, and I knew when that day came, I’d destroy her in three seconds flat with vengeance.
But when it came to Madeline, hate was a fleeting emotion, because instead of destroying her, I wanted to do the opposite.
Madeline and I locked eyes as I wiped my mouth, the feel of my swollen lips rubbing over the back of my hand. She watched without trying to hide the rising desire, her eyes widening with each one of my slow movements. I crept down over her, pushing her body back down into a lying position. Her bra strap was hanging loosely over her shoulder, her silky hair covering the lacy fabric.
The contact that our skin held was like a thousand fireflies lighting up the dark room. Everything felt warm and fuzzy. We were in a haze. Lust-locked.
My fingers tingled as I pulled the other strap down to meet the crook of her elbow, her chest almost fully exposed. She arched her back, never once leaving my gaze, and I unsnapped the scrap of fabric with one skillful click, and soon, she was completely bare.
The bulge in my sweatpants was pulsing, aching, almost so hard I thought it might fall off. The smallest brush of her knee against me had me sucking in air.
Madeline’s head tilted just slightly before a mischievous twinkle appeared in eye.
Her shaky hand left my forearm as I rested above her, taking in her beautiful, toned curves. She was small but had an athletic build—years and years of cheerleading, I was sure. I lowered down to her, my covered dick resting on her warmth, as she trailed a line with her finger from the very top of her chest to the bottom of her belly.
What was she doing?