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“Jesus, Billie,” he winces. He presses his hand to the growing red handprint on his face as his heavy lashes struggle to lift over his weary eyes. “What the fuck was that for?”
“Wake up,” she snaps and, for good measure, shoves his solid chest.
His answer is a soft groan. He rubs a hand down his face.
“Preston,” she hisses. “Wake up… Fuck me.”
“Fuck you,” he echoes, sleep clinging to his voice. The furrow of a frown digs into his brow. He studies her for atickof the clock on the wall. “Like I miss you?”
She shakes her head. Takes every scrap of strength she has in her not to let a tear escape from her eyes. “Like you hate me.”
The pressing darkness turns his brown eyes black. And through the tired glaze of his eyes, the embers of his forever-lust burn. “Right now,” he says, his voice husky, “I do.”
She watches him push off his side of the mattress and so easily move over her, climb on top of her, in one fluid motion. She looks up at him, the thickness of tears lodged in her throat, but she just swallows the discomfort back.
Take it away.
Fuck my pain away.
She whispers as he drapes over her, the tip of his nose grazing hers, “Show me you hate me.”
If eyes are windows to the soul, then his soul is burning with hate. It’s unfiltered in the smolder of his gaze.
There’s nothing loving or comforting in the way he kicks his knee up the mattress to force her legs apart.
Billie’s back arches as she lifts up to meet his lips, parting her own for a kiss—but all she gets is a hand, firm, on her jaw and he shoves her back down on the mattress.
His grip tightens, smooshing her lips out, and he reaches his other hand between her legs. The band of her panties is all that shields her from him. And it’s gone in an instant. A single tug, and he’s torn the lace in two.
There’s no ceremony before he’s pushing the tip of his cock against the slick heat of her core. He wastes no time on her pleasure where he usually draws out her excitement, her anticipation with the delicate move of his expert fingers, or the ever so perfect curls and flicks of his tongue.
No, this isn’t about her pleasure tonight.
The dark shadow cast over his face tells her he’s only got a mind for himself.
Hand still on her jawline, he keeps her pinned in place.
No warning, the tip pushes against her folds, aligned—then he thrusts into her, hard.
A grunt catches in her chest, her body is jolted up the bed. Again, he slams into her. Dark gaze digging into her dead eyes.
To steady herself, her hands slap onto his forearm, his fingers still dug deep into the line of her jaw. His rhythm is harsh, determined. Each purposeful thrust fills her inch by inch. Her walls clench around him, feeling every pulse that shivers through his cock. She shudders against him. The more of him that fills her, the less empty she feels. The harder he fucks her, the less pain she feels.
Preston is more than an addiction or a poison to her—he’s the cure, too.
Billie hooks her legs around his waist and locks her ankles; she gives into him. And he takes her.
Fucks her into the mattress.
His hand leaves her jaw. He pulls back, a glisten of sweat on his brow, tousled curls falling over his forehead. She hasn’t a moment to reach for him in the sudden distance before she’s snatched by the waist and flipped onto her front.
She lands face-down with a shout of surprise and a bounce.
The weight of his hand is fast to press down on her back. Pinned in place, all she can do is turn to press her cheek on the pillow and feel the push of his cock shoving inside of her again.
Her moan is tangled with Preston’s almost savage grunt. Filling her to the brim, he drapes his weight over her back and shifts his hand, slides it up to her shoulder where it grips, hard, and the solid weight of his arm pushes down on her shoulder blades. Keeps her trapped. Trapped for each rough thrust that smacks the bedhead against the wall—thud, thud, thud.
He slams into her harder, his pace quickening, turning savage as he desperately chases his pleasure deep inside of her. Billie’s hands twist in the silk sheets, now slick with sweat. Her breaths sharpen, punctuated by the slams of his hips against her ass.
