Make Me Hate You(51)

“Oh, God,” I whispered, shaking, nails digging into his skin as I raked them up his back to hold onto his shoulders. “Please.”

Another plea. Another desperate call to fill me, to claim me, to ruin me.

And this time, he answered.

Tyler’s hands found my ass, and he lifted me, holding my full weight in his arms with his tip still balanced inside me. I felt the thick muscles of his thighs under my own as he pulled me down onto him, somehow hard and slow all at once, filling me to the brim in a motion that seared me from the inside out.

A loud moan ripped from my throat, and Tyler wrapped one arm completely around me so he could cover my mouth with the opposite hand. I breathed into it hard, tempted to bite the flesh, but knowing he was right. I needed to be quiet.

But how could I?

He held me there for a long moment, reveling in the feel of his cock fully inside me, and I breathed into his hand, still trembling in his grasp.

Another scream threatened to break through when he lifted me and brought me back down again, somehow making more room and sliding in even deeper. We hadn’t even thought about a condom, hadn’t even considered that it could ever be anything but just all of him inside all of me.

Raw. Bare. Violent.

The earth tilted, and in the next instant my back hit the mattress, a puff of comforter swallowing us as Tyler lowered down over me. If he pulled out of me with the movement, I didn’t notice, and as soon as we were lying down, he backed me up until my head was in the pillows, until he was so deep inside me I felt him in every pleasurable and uncomfortable way there was. It was painful, it was too deep, and it was the most gratifying experience of my life.

When he leaned back, sitting on his heels with his hands wrapped around my hips, he slammed into me at a whole new angle — one that had me crying out and reaching for the pillow that had been between my thighs the night before to muffle the moan.

Tyler slowed then, filling me softly and purposefully, inch by blissful inch. And when his thumb pressed hot and hard into my clit, circling it in time with his thrusts, I came fast in a throbbing, pillow-biting, all-encompassing explosion of stars.

That orgasm wasn’t just physical, though I felt it invading every centimeter of my skin, my muscles, my nervous system, my being. But it didn’t stop there — it seeped into my heart and into my soul like a hot, persistent flood, filling every crack and hole and hollow emptiness.

It was complete and total devastation.

And I was bound to him.

My orgasm hadn’t even completely finished when Tyler flipped me over, thrusting into me from behind with my legs pinned under his. The new angle hit a sacred spot inside me, and my orgasm continued, the rolling waves of climax making me shake and whimper under him as he rode me hard and fast and rough.

I knew his hands would bruise my hips, that his teeth had left marks on my neck, that I’d forever feel an emptiness from where he was inside me now — but I didn’t care.

I loved it.

I craved it. I wanted more, more, more — all of him, all of this, all of us.

It was wrong. It was betrayal. It was everything we were never supposed to do.

But when Tyler thrust into me again and again, then three final, hard times, filling me up completely before he pulled out and stroked his orgasm out until it spilled hot on my ass, I knew we’d take whatever punishment, whatever hell we’d wake up to the next morning.

We’d always choose this, time and time again, over and over, no matter what.

If I thought it was hard to forget Tyler Wagner before, it would be impossible now.

He’d ruined me.

Thoroughly and utterly destroyed me in every consumable way.

And I had never wanted anything more.





Everything was sore.

Just one stretch of my body in bed had my hips screaming, my legs aching, my ribs and back and arms protesting the movement. I didn’t know if it was from the run that I’d pushed myself too hard or from the multiple rounds of Tyler and me exploring each other throughout the night — perhaps a combination of the two.

All I did know was that I was deliciously sore, deliciously sated, and that Tyler was wrapped around me like a giant, warm, protective bear.

He spooned me from behind, his bare skin hot to the touch and slick from us being fused together all night. His arm wrapped around my waist, tucking me into him with his hand palming my breast. His legs were threaded with mine, curled and tangled, and after my little stretch, I already felt him growing hard, his erection pressing between my cheeks.

For a long moment, I just lie there — knowing we were both awake, that the sunshine streaming in through my still-open curtains was too much to sleep through. But I didn’t want to move, to lose that time in space where Tyler was mine, and I was his, and we were wrapped up in each other under the covers with the waves lapping at the shore outside our window.

Tyler groaned when I wiggled in his grasp again, my ass rubbing against his erection, and his hand traveled every curve of my body as I turned in his hold to face him. He was still lying there with his eyes closed, but a lazy smile was on those perfect lips.

“Mornin’, beautiful.”

I bit my lip, heart soaring at the greeting.

Tyler Wagner was in bed with me, and everything about waking up next to him felt good and right and real.

“Good morning,” I whispered back.

I trailed my hands up over his shoulders and into his hair before I drew lazy lines on his back, and he sighed happily, holding me tighter.