Page 32 of The Afterthought

"So I can listen to you hate fuck after you fight with each other? I think I'll pass. I'll have Sheriff Wolfe bring me home in the morning." She flips her hair over her shoulder and retreats to her bedroom to gather a bag. Before I know it, she's out the door, and I'm waiting for Ava alone in her house.

By the time I hear a car pull up outside, it's well after midnight. I've had plenty of time to run this conversation through my mind, but I still have no clue what I'm going to say. She's going to be pissed when she finds me here. She's already said countless times that she wants nothing to do with me, and that was fine before. Before she got stuck in my head, and before she started to consume my every waking thought. This really isn't healthy.

The door creaks open, and I turn to look at her from my place on her couch. She hasn't noticed that I'm here yet. She seems tired. There is an extra sag to her shoulders, and her general aura is giving off an ‘I've had a long day, stay away from me’ energy. She turns toward the kitchen and freezes at the sight of the pizza.

"Chloe?" she calls out, not knowing that Chloe isn't going to answer her because she's not here.

She grabs a slice of the pizza from the box and takes a bite, groaning as the first taste hits her mouth. The buffalo chicken pizza. She eats the whole first slice, cold, and goes for a second before she stops dead in her tracks. It's as if she had some sort of realization of where the pizza is from. I made sure to get it from the less popular joint in town. She always loved this one the most when we were younger.

"Chloe!" she calls out again.

When she turns and finally sees me on the couch, she jumps and yells out, making me grin. "Hey, little shadow."

"Greyson?" She questions as if to make sure it's really me and not someone else sitting in her house without her permission.

"Yeah, baby, it's me."

"Don’t call me that. I'm not your baby." She stalks past the living room and pulls open the door to what I'm assuming is Chloe's room now because it's across the hall from the room Ava stayed in when we were kids. She marches back out here and stops in front of me with her arms crossed. "What the fuck are you doing here, and where is Chloe?"

"We need to talk." I reach out to grab her hips to pull her toward me, but she swats my hands away.

"No, we don't. I've had a long day. Where is my sister?"

"She went to Andrea's and will be back in the morning. She didn't want to be here when you got home, and we started hate fucking. Her words, not mine." A smile crosses my face, but hers turns to a scowl.

"When we what? We are not having sex. I'm not in the mood for this, Greyson. Can you just leave?"

I stand and step into her, grabbing her hips before she can swat my hands away this time. I pull her close and lean in, running my nose along her neck and taking in her sweet citrus smell. I know better than to push my boundaries right now, even though all I want to do is throw her against a wall and fuck her senseless.

I turn her and push her toward the couch. She falls onto it, and I sit down next to her. "We're talking," I insist.

"There's nothing to talk about."

"At the very least, we can talk about how, on two different occasions, you've come apart on my fingers."

Her cheeks blush, but the rest of her body and face remain stiff and unreadable. She doesn't stop me from talking or attempt to get up from the couch. I'm taking this as my go-ahead to shoot my shot.

"You can't hate me forever." I try.

"Greyson, I've barely been here a week. You've told me to leave countless times. Now you're telling me I'm not allowed to hate you?" She crosses her arms in front of her chest. "Why don't you tell me what exactly you expect at this point? I'm getting whiplash from your mood swings."

"Watch the way you talk to me. I'm trying to have a nice conversation with you," I grit out. The only thing I want to do right now is throw her down and fuck that attitude right out of her. Nobody talks to me like that.

She laughs. "I don't know if you realize this or not, but I'm not like the rest of the people in this town. I don't give a shit about your feelings or whatever fear I'm supposed to have for you. You can't hurt me any more than you already have. Say what you need to say and get the hell out so I can go to sleep."

That's it. That's enough right there to make me snap. I tried this the nice way. I tried to be the chivalrous man who gave her a choice. She doesn't want to talk. Fine, we don't have to talk.

Before she has a chance to react, I reach down and grab her ankle, pulling it onto the couch and tugging her tiny body down so that she is lying on her back on the length of the couch. I grip her arms and pin them above her head, placing my body on top of hers.

Her narrowed eyes are filled with challenge. "Are you going to hurt me, Grey? Do your best."

She's playing with fire. As much as she tells me she doesn't want this, I can tell she does. I run my nose along her neck, similar to what I did earlier, but this time, I bite down on her lower earlobe before whispering in her ear, "Tell me you hate me."

I grind my now-hardened cock against her center. Her legs slide apart for me, letting me settle right where I belong. I use my free hand to tug the belt from my jeans before grinding down on her again. "Tell me, Ava. Be a good slut, and tell me how much you hate me."

Her eyes light up. "I hate you."

There's my girl. She wants to play. Who am I to deny her?

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