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“It’s not jealousy. It’s self-respect.”
“Bullshit. You made your emotional performance of the century in there and even had the tears to go with it. So how about you admit this open arrangement isn’t for you.”
“Fuck you, Kingsley.”
“I’m going to pass on the offer. Instead, you might see me fucking that girl next time in full HD.”
I can feel the hotness rising from my chest to my neck and ears, and I refuse to give in to the volcano.
I refuse to let him win.
“Then you’ll be invited to the front-row seat of my next hookup.”
One second I’m sitting, the next I’m on my back. Kingsley’s fingers wrap around my throat, squeezing the sides until all I can focus on is his weight on top of me. He could crush me in a minute—no, a second would be enough. And the worst part is that my core is throbbing with want.
What the hell is wrong with me? He’s choking me and I’m throbbing?
“The only way another man will touch you is if he has a fucking death wish. So unless you want some bastard’s death on your conscience out of pure spite, then go ahead and provoke that lawless side of me, sweetheart. I fucking dare you.”
“You did itfirst.” I can feel the raw words coming out from the depths of my soul and bruised heart. “You touched someone else first, asshole. And I believe in karma. It’s my favorite type of bitch.”
“You’re the one who went on a date and refused to be mine. Touching another woman was your lesson, because both of us know open anything isn’t how this works. Next time I say you’re mine, you scream it back, am I clear?”
I angle my knee to kick him in the crotch, but he lifts himself at the last second, escaping my assault.
“Try fucking again.”
“Fuck. You.”
“Not the right word.” He has the audacity totsk. “Say you’re mine.”
I purse my lips.
Still grabbing me by the throat, he reaches for my shirt and bunches it up to my waist, lifts my leg, then slaps my ass cheek.
I gasp, still sore and bearing a map of his handprints from the last time he did this.
Two days ago. It’s been only two days, but it feels as if he hasn’t touched me for a decade. It’s terrifying how my body and other parts of me I don’t want to put a name to have gotten used to him.
Kingsley releases his hard cock that’s purple and dripping with precum. Seems like I’m not the only one depraved enough to be turned on by this hate-fest.
We’re both insatiable animals with a thirst for more.
He digs his fingers into my folds. “Look how soaked you are for me, sweetheart. Your cunt is begging to be fucked.”
I shudder when he does that thing with his fingers thrusting inside me and his palm slapping my clit.
“So inviting, tight and ready,” he muses in dark words that arouse me more than should be allowed.
Then he pulls out and I bite my lip to keep from protesting. His fingers move through my wetness to my back hole, smearing the arousal all over it before driving inside.
I gather my fists into the sheets and squeeze.
It’s a depravity that he’s been engaging in lately, taking pleasure in fingering my ass while he’s fucking my pussy.
It’s always felt arousing in a strange type of way, but one thing is missing—his cock isn’t inside me. It’s sliding against my folds, up and down in a torturous rhythm.
“Ah, fuck…” I raise my hips, needing to alleviate the pressure building in my core.
