Make Me Hate You(50)

Tyler was just a silhouette with the windows behind him, his hair sticking up this way and that, chest swelling with each new breath. I palmed my breasts as my eyes traced each valley and ridge of his abdomen, my nipples pebbling under the touch, and I moaned at the sight of him stripping off his shorts and freeing his erection.

It sprang forward, thick and long, and when he wrapped one fist around it with his eyes still watching me, I panted, my hand sliding down to rub my aching clit.

“Jesus Christ,” he said, still stroking himself as he moved toward me. “You were touching yourself like that last night, weren’t you?”

My hand stilled, just for the pause of shock registering through me.

He smirked, still moving slowly toward me. “You fucking were. I heard you, your deep moans and hushed cries of pleasure. I thought it was a dream, but it sounded so real. It was, wasn’t it?”

I nodded, lips parting, my fingers moving over my clit again at the sight of him towering and slinking toward me like a snake in the night.

He only pulled his hand from himself when he was close enough to touch me, swatting my own hand out of the way so he could take the job. And when his warm fingertips pressed into my clit, rubbing it in a gentle circle, my entire body convulsed at the touch.

“Who were you thinking of?” he demanded.

I sucked in the urge to moan, holding my breath and fighting everything inside me that wanted to cry out at his touch. “You.”

“Goddamnit,” he husked, and his warm fingers pressed harder, still circling as I writhed in his grasp. “Do you know how fucking hard you made me? I had to fuck my hand twice last night, and still couldn’t empty myself fully.”

God, it was so hot the way he spoke to me, the filthy, forbidden things he said. “What did you think of?” I managed through my panting.

“What do you think,” he asked, slipping his fingers down between my wet folds before he circled my clit again. “Fuck, it’s hot how turned on you are right now.”

“Please, Tyler,” I begged, and I swear, I’d never begged for anything in the bedroom before in my life. But I needed him, and I didn’t even know what I needed first — his fingers inside me? His mouth on my clit? His cock buried so deep I could see the stars?

I wanted it all, all at once. I needed him to consume me like a black hole. I desired nothing more than to die by his touch.

Tyler kissed his way down my abdomen with his hands on my waist, sliding his tongue over the smooth skin above my clit. I resisted the urge to whine, but my hips bucked of their own accord. I wanted his mouth on me, his tongue on my clit, now.

He seemed to know it, and he tickled my skin with his fingertips as his tongue drew designs on my mound, dipping close to my clit but never fully encompassing it. My breaths were so shallow they barely existed at all, and when Tyler slowly crawled back up to kiss me again, I shoved him back with frustration.

The cocky bastard stood there with a knowing grin. He knew he was driving me crazy, that I needed him to touch me, and he loved to torture me and make me beg for it.

But I was done waiting.

I reached out before he had the chance to pin me again, wrapping one hand fully around the base of his cock and squeezing as I rolled my fist up to his tip and down again. Tyler groaned, his hands slapping down on the dresser behind me as his mouth claimed mine again, hard and demanding, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip. I trailed my fingers up to his tip, spreading the bead of pre-cum there over the sensitive skin before I wrapped my fist around him again and felt him flex into it.

“That’s it, baby,” I whispered against his mouth. “Fuck my hand like you fucked your own last night.”

Another growl ripped through him, and he grabbed my hips, yanking me down off the dresser to stand in front of him. And when he did, our cores lined up, and I pulled him between my legs, between my lips, hands grabbing his ass and dragging him in until his shaft was snug between my hot thighs, slick from my need.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, and his hands loosened their grip on my hips as he leaned back to appreciate the view.

We were both standing, him bent at the knees a little, and he pulled back enough to expose his entire cock before flexing forward, burying it between my folds again. This time, the heat of his base rubbed against my clit with the motion, and I gasped, arching back and gripping onto the dresser so I didn’t hit my knees.

I was already about to burst and he hadn’t even put a single inch inside me.

It was just the hot, raw flesh of his cock skating in-between my lips, and then out again, over and over, slicking my clit and giving it just enough friction to drive me mad without taking me to the finish line.

I was so needy, so desperate for him that every other thought was fleeting and impossible to grasp. The only thing that existed in this moment was him.

My hands found his shoulders, and I stepped up onto my toes, tucking my hips to allow him more access. And on his next thrust, the tip of him stretched my opening, slipping inside just enough to make both of us shiver and shake and hold onto each other for dear fucking life.

“Holy fuck, Jasmine,” he breathed, gripping my arms to still me. “Am I inside you right now?”

I moaned, grabbing his ass and pulling him in even more as I tilted my hips farther, using the dresser to hold me up. He slid in even more, the entire tip of him filling me, and we both groaned again.