Worse Than Enemies

He runs a hand down my side, then works it between my thighs. I part them, giving him room, thrusting against his fingers. Is it wrong to be this desperate? I don’t care. Not when it feels this good to be touched.

“You’re like a drug.” Hayes kisses his way down my throat, then up again, running his tongue over my ear. “I can’t keep away from you, no matter how hard I try. It’s like I can’t control myself when I’m around you.”

“Right now, I don’t want you to.” I arch my back, gasping when the pressure from his hand increases. Even through my clothes, he’s going to make me come.

“I didn’t want to hurt you before. When I fucked you. It’s just…” He trails off without finishing.

“Just what?”

He doesn’t answer, choosing to slide his hand into my jeans instead. This time I welcome his touch, grinding against his fingers, working to give my body what it’s craving.

“Are you gonna come for me?” he whispers in my ear, and I reach up and run my fingers through his curly hair while moaning out my response. Yes, I’m going to come. I’m already almost there.

Which is why I groan in frustration when he takes his hand away. He only gives me a teasing little laugh as he pulls his shirt over his head. I do the same with mine and take off my bra, too. I want to feel him all over me, on every inch of my skin.

“You covered it up.” When his fingers skim what’s left of the bite mark he gave me, he frowns. “I liked seeing it.”

“Why?” I ask, but instead of answering, he only lowers his mouth to my other shoulder and does the same thing on that side. Only this time, when I’m so wet and almost ready to come, it feels good. I run my fingers through his hair, closing my eyes, wincing—but liking it, too.

“Mine.” He runs his tongue over the throbbing mark, then lifts his head to look me in the eye. “If I can’t get rid of you, I’m going to make sure the world knows you belong to me.” I don’t have time to process this—not that I could with all the blood leaving my brain and traveling south—before he’s unbuttoning my jeans. I lift my hips so he can ease them down, along with my panties.

We shouldn’t do this. We absolutely shouldn’t. But when he covers my mouth with his and thrusts his tongue inside, the world explodes around me in shimmering light. Everything that mattered just a second ago is wiped away. I wrap my arms around him and hold on tight, my nails scratching his shoulders, running over his head while our tongues dance inside our joined mouths. I’m on fire, burning up from the inside out. And I want to. I want to be consumed.

I barely notice until he’s already pressing against me that he’s between my legs. He enters me while we’re still kissing and I moan into his mouth, a mixture of discomfort and satisfaction. Deep, throbbing satisfaction that spreads throughout me, all of it stemming from the place where our bodies are connected.

And this time, it doesn’t hurt. This time, he goes easier, rolling his hips in slow, delicious circles, grinding against my clit, bringing me back to the place I was before he stopped rubbing me.

He breaks the kiss and I gulp in air before straining upward to meet his lips again. But he has other ideas. He kisses his way down my throat again, this time sweeping his tongue over my skin until I’m whimpering helplessly. Needfully. He goes lower still, running his lips across my collarbone, his hips still rolling, still driving me crazy.

He takes one of my nipples between his lips and sucks on it, flicking his tongue over the tip before releasing it with a popping noise. He does the same to the other one and I have to bite the side of my hand to keep from making a sound. I want to scream, I want to moan his name, I want him to know how incredible this feels.

“So good,” I whisper, and he groans in agreement before driving himself deeper than before.

He kisses me again, again, nibbling my lips, sucking them, brushing his tongue against mine. I’m lost in sensation, lost in him, pushing away everything else—every thought, fear, doubt—in favor of what’s building in me. In both of us. I feel the change in him, the way he’s losing control.

Over me. Losing control over me, because of me.

And that’s what does it. What finally pushes me over the edge into that sweet, dark, blissful place. I cry out inside his mouth when it hits, then shake in his arms while my arms wrap around him and hold tight until the strongest tremors pass.