21. Sam

Chapter 21

Sam

O h, God. I do hate him.

So fucking much.

But the way my skin tingles under his icy blue-eyed stare, the way my heart rattles against my ribcage when he’s in my airspace, and the way the electricity crackling in the air between us ignites fires down deep in my soul…it all makes me think that I’m doing a tightrope dance over a dark, bottomless abyss where hate and lust are in the throes of war.

One wrong move will plunge me into the depths with no hope of a return.

And still, here I am, my mind and body in a perpetual brutal battle.

Fucking him was wrong.

Coming here was stupid.

But I just couldn’t stay away.

I’m drawn to the guy like moths to a flame even though everything about him is wrong, dangerous, and detrimental to my future .

But at the same time, everything about him is magnetic, intoxicating, and all-consuming.

Maybe even more so now that he’s a complete train wreck, and I don’t even want to think about what kind of a headcase that makes me.

I’ve always been the rock for people in my life, always wanting to give of myself, to help and support, to be the strength when everyone else crumbles. It’s who I am.

Maybe it’s part of the reason why I went to the press conference today, but it’s not why I’m here now.

It’s not why I’m fighting the urge to tear off Brixton’s boxer briefs and flip him around so I can violate him the way his heated gaze begs me to.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” he says, his voice tight. “You made your appearance at the hotel. Nobody asked you to do anything more. I didn’t…”

His voice breaks off, his thought hanging in the tense air.

“I didn’t want you to come here,” he finally says.

“Liar,” I say, dipping my head and flicking my tongue over his right nipple before teasing his ring. Last night was so quick and hot and dark, I didn’t get a chance to take my time with him before losing myself inside of him.

A moan slips from his mouth and his hands find their way around my back, fingers digging into my spine as I taunt his sensitive flesh.

“I’m not one of your charity cases.” Brixton’s head falls backward against the wall. He thrusts his hips against me, grinding against my cock. “I don’t need a sympathy fuck.”

I lift my head and narrow my eyes at him. “What makes you think I’m here to sympathize with you? You don’t deserve it after what you did.”

Bringing my lips to his neck, I press into him, the friction of our dicks rubbing together awakening every nerve ending in my body. My lips move down the slope of his neck and I bite his flesh. Hard.

So hard, I hope it leaves a mark. I want him to remember this every time he looks at himself in the mirror. I want him to feel the ache and the yearning all over again.

I work my way back up to his parted lips but I don’t kiss him. Instead, I pull away, my breaths wobbly. His eyes fly open as if he can sense the space I just put between us.

“I don’t deserve it,” he whispers. “So if you came here just to tell me that, then leave. I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone.”

“You think you can get away with doing and saying whatever you want because you’re a spoiled, selfish asshole.”

His stubbled jaw tightens as he rips open my belt and pants. He shoves my clothes to the floor and I kick them off along with my shoes.

“You hurt people. You ruin them. And you don’t give a damn about the damage you cause,” I say, my cock throbbing as my gaze trails the length of his lean, tattooed body.

I shove his boxer briefs to his ankles and slide my hands up the sides of his legs, squeezing his ass when they reach those perfect globes.

He shoves my jacket off my shoulders then tears open my shirt with no regard for the buttons. I slide it off and rip the tie off my neck then pull off my socks.

“You don’t know a goddamn thing about me,” he hisses, winding his fingers into the back of my hair and giving it a hard pull that sends sparks of need straight to my groin. “Don’t you dare judge me.”

Bringing one of my hands to his hard cock, I lean in close, my lips practically against his. “I know you want me to fuck you. I know you want me to make you come again.”

“I can find a ready and willing fuck anywhere I want. There’s nothing special about you.” His heart speeds up, racing right along with mine.

I press my chest tight against him, locking him against the wall. He pushes his hips against my hand, his body urging me to rub him. I drag my hand up and down his dick, stroking him hard, making him tremble.

His eyes float closed again as he fucks my hand but I want more.

I need more.

I lower myself and capture his thick cock with my lips. I suck him down until the tip hits the back of my throat, then drag my teeth lightly against the sides as I draw my mouth back. I tease his slit, the tang of precum hitting my tongue and making my own dick drip.

Brixton writhes against the wall, muttering a lot of shit I can’t make out, but all sounds are pretty much muted by the blood rushing between my ears.

He presses his hands against my head, forcing me to take him deeper with every tug of my lips.

“Fuck you for coming here,” he mumbles. “Fuck you for busting into my goddamn life. I was good without you. You ruined fucking everything.”

I hear the words but my body isn’t the least bit affected by any of them. His cock slips from my lips, my fingers slick with his precum. I coat them some more with my tongue before bringing them around to his ass. I slip them inside the tight ring of muscle, hooking them as I drive them deep inside of his heat.

“Fuck,” he moans as I work him open, prepping him for what’s about to come. Pun intended. I rise from my knees and grab both of our cocks with my free hand, jerking them hard.

He thinks I ruined everything.

Now I’m going to ruin him .

He glowers at me from narrowed lids.

Dammit, why does this guy have so much power over me?

And why am I so turned on by his disdain and disgust?

Tingles erupt in my core and explode out to every cell, desire coursing through me, drowning out the protests my mind screams out.

All control is lost and the longer I stay, the further away I get from being able to reclaim it.

But fuck me, I can’t leave.

I bring my head close to his and drop our cocks because I want to torture us both a little more.

“Don’t kiss me,” he whimpers as my fingers drive deep, stretching him. “You son of a bitch, don’t you dare?—"

I ignore him, crushing my lips against his. Our tongues swirl together, doing a carnal dance dripping with filthy, dirty promise. I devour him, savoring his taste, drinking in his desire. It’s hot, hungry, and intense—the kind of kiss that can melt bones and short-circuit brains.

I pull my fingers from his ass and capture his lower lip with my teeth as I slowly break the kiss that just completely destroyed me for any other man.

He stares at me, his normally tormented eyes now clear.

Open.

Free.

It catches me off-guard for a second, paralyzes me as I get lost in those light blue pools.

He licks his hand and brings it to my cock, squeezing it as he rubs me up and down.

The spell breaks.

I take my cock from him and turn him around. My eyes drop to his ass and I lick my lips, lining myself up with his hole before pressing inside of him .

“Make it hurt. Fuck me like you hate me,” he says. “Because you need to hate me.”

My heart clenches, a lump forming in the back of my throat at his pained request. Those last words were so low, I don’t even know if he meant for me to hear them.

But I did.

His muscles clench me. My balls ache with every thrust, slapping against his ass cheeks. I wrap my arms around him, hugging him tight against me as I fuck him with long, hard strokes. He rides my ass, dragging me deeper and deeper until he screams out.

I run my hands over the front of his torso then grip his hips, forcing him to back into me.

“Touch me,” he urges, melting into me.

I nip at his ear and the back of his neck then wrap my fingers around his cock. He thrusts forward and back, tremors rocking him as he clamps down on my dick and pulls me deeper so I keep hitting his spot.

I shudder, my cock throbbing in his tight hole. His ass was made for me to bury myself inside of it.

He stills for a second and then cum spurts from his dick, spilling over my hand. I shake and shudder as my own orgasm tears through me. I let out a sharp yell as it explodes and I fill him with everything I have.

I collapse against him, my knees like Jell-O, unable to drag in a full breath.

Holy shit.

We stand there, silent, arms and legs entwined, until my dick finally slips out of his ass. His shoulders rise and fall for a few more seconds before he turns around.

I recoil at the anger flickering in his gaze.

His eyes are no longer clear.

They’re dark, clouded by rage.

I give my head a quick shake, like I’m imagining it, because how the hell can he look at me like that after what we just did?

“I told you not to kiss me.” He wrenches away from me and points to the door. “Get the fuck out of here. Now.”

My eyes definitely didn’t deceive me.

And I’m not imagining a goddamn thing.