Page 173 of Hateful Games

Thrust.

Thrust.

“No!” I cry out when his cock is gone completely from my mouth. Jerking himself roughly, he tilts my head back and with a snarl, paints my entire face in him. His warm seed lands on my mouth, my cheeks. My eyes.

The angles of his face sharpens as he spurts the last of his cum.

He sees the anger in my eyes for not being allowed to swallow. I didn’t think I would even want that. But since he didn’t, I feel the loss. “Why?”

“You haven’t earned my cum in your mouth yet.” The corner of his lips rise in a filthy smirk. “And I also wanted to see you marked in it more.”

“I hate you.” My voice sounds as if I swallowed a bag of pipes. I’m going to be feeling him for days.

“Good.” He rubs his cum over my lips. “Loving me would be fatal.”

Moving away from the bed, he tugs me to the edge. I can’t help but complain with a pout, “I didn’t come.”

“We’re at my parents’ house, have you no shame?”

He brutally fucked and came on my face, and has the audacity to call me shameless?

“Like you haven’t brought girls in here?” I snap in stark jealousy, pissed from the very mean orgasm denial.

What the fuck? Jealous? Me? Over him?

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

“No, I haven’t.” His gaze is intense and honest. Bending, he scoops me into his arm bridal style and carries me into the adjoined bathroom. “Don’t look so surprised.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’ve been engaged to you almost half my life, Rose.”

“You’ve also hated me since,” I retort as soon as he puts me down and cleans my face and chest with a damp tissue. “Why would any of it stop you?”

“It shouldn’t have.”

But it did… his silence says.

Chapter Forty-five

Rosalie

“Had a good night’s sleep?” Teresa asks from near the stove as soon as I return downstairs, freshly dressed in another of Nova’s hoodies. It’s long enough to be a dress, reaching the middle of my thighs. Nova had almost pushed me back into the bed after one glance.

I skipped from the room before he could, making sure to grab my Kindle.

“Yes.” And one hell of a morning. My mushy brain had forgotten we were at his parents’ house. “I hadn’t had so much fun in so long.”

“Are you feeling unwell, Rose?” Teresa squints her eyes in concern. “Sore throat?”

Oh my god. Ground, swallow me whole.

Do I sound that bad?

I want to die from mortification. I hide my flaming cheeks with my hair and clear my throat. “Must be from the chilled water I drank during the night.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you tea,” she sweetly replies. “It’ll make you feel better.”

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