He Hates Me (Hate & Love Duet 1)

I don't want him to go.

I really, really don't want him to fucking go, and it's taking everything I have in me not to call out after him and beg him to stay. I don't know what kind of game he's playing, but it's fucking with my head.

His hand lingers on the knob before slowly moving down and turning the key in the lock. With ease, he slips the key out of the lock and puts it in his pocket. "Just kidding, Pet. I'm not going anywhere. And you're going to strip for me, right now."

I blush furiously, the thought of getting out of these cat-printed pajamas right in front of him is such a turn on. I want him to look at me. I want him to see every inch of my bare skin, and then feel it, run his fingertips all over me and fuck me with them like he owns me. Like I'm nothing but property. His property.

I'm on the verge of begging before I remember his task. Slowly, I hook my thumbs in the waistband of my pajamas, then pull them down in one motion, before I can change my mind.

Jasper's gaze darkens as he stares down between my legs. I'm wearing a gray pair of cotton panties, and embarrassingly, there's a huge wet spot on the front. Jasper doesn't comment on it and silently motions for me to keep going.

I take my top off next, peeling the spaghetti straps off my shoulders and making him groan in frustration. I smile, happy knowing I have an effect on him, too.

I remove my top, slowly, allowing my tits to bounce free. Jasper is watching me with unadulterated lust, but there's something else in his eyes – something similar to hatred. Raw, vicious, hate.

"Pinch your nipples," he demands. "Other hand between your legs. Rub my pussy."

That little pronoun sends my heart racing and my hands move of their own accord, one cupping my soaked pussy and the other trapping a nipple in its firm grip, squeezing hard. My lips open in a soft o-shape and Jasper just watches, like he always does.

"Are you just going to stand there?" I hiss. "What are you, some kind of voyeur?"

"You're quite the exhibitionist yourself." His voice is rough, dark and sexy, and it's making me melt. "I think I'm fine where I am. Keep touching. Rubbing. Dripping."

I do as he says, pinching my nipple so hard it makes me leak even more. "Jasper. Give me what I want."

"And what is it that you want, Pet?"

I hesitate, biting my lower lip, but I can't keep it to myself any longer. "I want you to come over here and fuck me over this counter, Jasper."

He toys with the key in his pocket. "I'm only going to ask you for consent once. Do you understand that?"

Every heartbeat feels like an era. "Yes, I understand."

He withdraws his hand from his pocket, taking a slow step toward me, reaches out to cup my face with his palm, so gentle it shocks me into submission. But soon enough, his hand moves down my throat, capturing my neck beneath strong, long fingers. "That was a mistake, Pet. You're going to regret it."

He picks me up by my throat. My legs kick into thin air, but the moment's over a second later once he places me butt-down on the kitchen counter. I'm already panicking, my body shooting bursts of adrenaline through my system. All my instincts slam into me again, reminding me with each second that I need to get away.

Run.

Run.

Run.

"Make me regret it, then." The words leave my lips before I can stop myself, and I look anywhere but at Jasper, afraid of his reaction. My mouth won't shut up though, and I keep talking. "Please, Jasper. I want to regret it."

He kisses me then. Long, hard, almost violent in his desire to bruise my lips with his markings. My body instantly melts against his, but he holds me in place, making sure I don't fall. His lips devour me. He sucks on my bottom lip, nibbling, digging his teeth into it. He's gentle at first, but soon enough, his motions become more frantic. He starts tugging at my panties, and I let him. Soft gasps leave my mouth as he assaults my mouth with his tongue.

Finally, he pulls the panties down and tugs them from my feet, and my thighs open for him. Jasper's hand is on my pussy and I'm mentally screaming about the thought of leaving wet traces on his strong fingers. He doesn't let go. Instead, he chuckles, a low, throaty sound as I begin to drip all over him. I shut my eyes tightly, but he won't stop. He touches everything, everywhere. From my pussy, to my nipples, to my shoulder blades. He feels me up like I'm a cheap whore, but he makes me feel like a princess. A spoiled princess whose every thought revolves around the reward she wants.