Dare You to Hate Me

“Do you want this?” I ask him, pulling far enough away to talk without touching the mouth that greedily follows mine for more.

“Do you?” His breath is coming just as fast as mine, his chest rising and falling rapidly under my palms that rest on his pecs.

The heat building hotter and hotter between my legs is nothing compared to the ache as I grind my hips down on his hard cock, proving just how badly I want this. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?” I challenge, sliding my hands under his shirt and rolling my hips. Between his boxers and my panties, there’s little barrier keeping me from the part of him that I desperately want inside of me.

He groans and grabs the hem of the shirt I stole before peeling it off me and tossing it onto the floor. His eyes instantly take in my full breasts on display, his hands moving up the curves of my body before cupping them in his hands and squeezing with a groan. “You’re going to fucking kill me, Ivy. When the hell did you get so goddamn sexy?” His thumbs tweak my nipples before he sits up and takes one of them into his mouth and suckles before drawing back enough to add, “You were always beautiful but this…”

Biting down on my bottom lip, I arch my chest into him to absorb the feeling of his mouth and hands taking over every sensation racing through me. I moan his name under my breath when he tugs my nipple with his teeth before switching to the other, guiding his hand to knead its twin. My fingers go to his hair, massaging his scalp, pushing his mouth harder against me, as I begin moving my hips and feel the wetness pool with the need to have him naked.

“Shirt,” is all I manage to rasp, pawing at the material covering his hard-earned muscles. He pulls away, the sound of my breast popping from his mouth the only noise between us besides my heavy panting. His hand moves to tug the shirt off in one go and disposes of it with what he’s already stripped off me.

Our hands become frenzied as they coast against each other’s bare skin—mapping out every curve, muscle, freckle, and stretch mark. I’ve never been self-conscious when stripping down with other guys. Most of them only had one end game in mind and couldn’t care less that my stomach jiggles certain positions. With Aiden, there’s a strange sense of yearning for him to find me as sexy as he says I am—a girl without imperfections despite me being a shell full of them.

There’s always been something raw about letting someone see you naked. They’re not just seeing your body, but the smallest details that make you who you are.

Your past marred by scars.

Your present wrapped in skin.

Your future highlighted in small smiles and hopeful eyes.

His hands find my hips.

Mine find his biceps.

His squeeze my thighs.

Mine coast across his sculpted abs.

When his fingers dance along the top of my panties and trail down, down, down until they’re barely brushing my covered slit, I mewl out an incoherent plea for him to touch me.

Aiden always knows what I need.

Moving aside the cheap material, he strokes me up and down torturously slow. The pad of his thumb rubs my clit in circles until I’m moving my hips to find the friction I need and writhing when one of his fingers slips inside, quickly followed by another. There’s no need to beg because his digits start pumping in and out of me, causing me to grip his shoulders and begin lifting my hips to ride it out.

“Aiden, please.” Bending forward, I bury my face into his neck and breathe in the soap and sweat on his skin as I ride his hand like I would his cock. I nip his neck. “Need you.”

He helps me lower my panties and his boxers down so we’re both free, the air in the room thick with anticipation as it brushes where I’m wettest. “Condom,” he grates breathily as I wrap a hand around his large girth and pump the hardened steel in my hand.

I want to tell him it’ll be fine, lie and say I’m on the pill because I need to feel him inside me with no barrier, but we have to be smart. And no matter how beautiful the shaft in my hand is as it twitches and grows with every stroke of my palm, I know neither of us needs any surprises in the future.

Aiden reaches for his nightstand and pulls out a foil packet, his breath hitching as I help him roll the latex on. I notice the slight shake to his hands and assume it’s in anticipation—a uninhibited need that’s mutual as I rise and line the head of him up to my entrance and slowly, slowly, slowly sink down.

“Fuuuck.” The garbled word from him sounds pained as I take him fully and circle my hips to find the perfect spot that sets my nerves on fire. He stretches me in the most blissful way, his fingertips digging into my ass as I lift and repeat the movement, soaking in his length as I take every inch of him where I need him most. My hands hold onto his shoulders as I ride him slowly until he’s shaking his head. “Too much. Too damn much.”

I’m not sure what he means until his head drops back and the tendons in his neck tighten as his bottom half shoots up to fill me deeper and—

“Jesus Christ,” he barks out, holding my hips down so we’re pressed so close together I can feel him twitch and stiffen inside me. Once his hips settle, his breathing becomes heavier and I’m staring wide-eyed at him until he finally looks at me again with flushed cheeks.

“Did you just…?” I already know the answer, but the way his face reddens only confirms it.

His throat bobs, and there’s something oddly…vulnerable in the glazed blue color that I look into, first one eye then the other, before he looks away. “I haven’t done this before.”

I blink, then replay his words.

“Say that again?” I whisper slowly, sure I misheard him.

His jaw ticks. “I’ve never…” One of his hands raises to the back of his neck, squeezing it once and making the muscles in his arms pop. The tattoos I’ve admired when he shows them off shift, the Captain America shield moving as if to guard him and his shocking admission. “Shit, Ivy. You know what I mean. I haven’t had sex until now. Okay?”