Page 360 of Hate Mates

And I know this is exactly what he meant when he said pure, unadulterated, animal fucking. And I fucking love it.

He shifts behind me again, moving his knees closer to mine as I feel his chest press against my back. One of his hands moves to my inner thigh, anchoring him to me as his free hand moves to my clit. Then his voice is right there, a humming vibration in my ear. “This is what you wanted. Right, princess? My fucking dick hammering you. Touching you so deeply it’s hard to place it as pleasure or pain?”

I sob, a deep moan building in my chest as his spearing dick hits the very end of me.

His fingers on my clit become firmer, faster, his dick now a rough staccato of pushes as that tension inside of me tightens. Then his teeth are on my neck, digging in, his tongue lapping a line up to my ear where he breathes, “You better fucking come for me after all your plotting and conniving. You use that quivering, pulsing cunt to pull my cum from me.”

Pleasure pulses inside of me, and then his hand moves from my inner thigh up to my breast, his forefinger and thumb pinching my nipple, and pleasure explodes inside of me. I thrash beneath him, a sobbing, drooling mess as my orgasm takes over, and I let it take me, not at all concerned about being embarrassed about my reactions, as he moans loudly in my ear. “That’s right. Holy fuck, that’s right. Pull it out of me. You earned it. All that cum, just for you.”

I’m still moaning, my body twitching and convulsing in intense pleasure as he continues to move inside me, and his fingers pinch and tease my clit and my nipple, and then he tenses behind me, shoved in deep as he moans, “I’m coming. That’s right, princess. There you go.”

The hot rush of him inside me has that pleasure ricocheting. I continue to writhe, only managing to quiet a few long moments after he becomes completely still. Then I lie there beneathhim, sweating, not even remotely concerned that my hands are beginning to tingle from numbness from their awkward position.

He slowly pulls out of me, his hands on my legs easing me down so I’m lying flat. Then he slaps me on the ass. “Don’t fucking move.”

I only move my head, and that’s just to turn and watch him leave the room. But soon, he’s back, carrying what looks to be a washcloth and a towel. He kneels behind me, saying nothing as he wipes the warm, wet cloth between my legs and then quickly uses the towel to pat me dry. Or at least as dry as I’m going to be, given the circumstances.

He moves to my side, quickly untangling my shirt and putting it back over my head as he helps me sit up. “Are you okay?”

I nod, still unable to speak coherently and not even bothering to try. He hands me my pants and then turns, retrieving his own clothing and quickly dressing himself as I struggle into my pants. He helps me stand and then backs up against the sofa and falls onto it, obviously exhausted.

I stand there rather awkwardly, completely unsure what the fuck I should say now as he lies there with his eyes closed. After a moment, I manage to say, “So we have a deal, then?”

He opens his eyes and glares at me. “I never fucking said that.” I grit my teeth, any itty-bitty warm feeling that I had left from my previous orgasm evaporating. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out as frustration and rage choke me. And then he smirks and adds, “You can let yourself out the same way you got in.”

My first instinct is to kick him directly in the balls. But then I take a deep breath and remember that I’m the one who broke into his apartment and admitted to intentionally invading hisprivacy after propositioning him with what may well be the most outrageous deal in the history of outrageous deals.

So, rather than resorting to physical violence, I grab my shoes and slide my feet inside before looking over at him as calmly as I possibly can while still seething. And then I clear my throat a couple of times before finally managing to say calmly, “I’m sure you need a bit of time to sort out all your big boy feelings about the situation. But while you’re doing that, don’t forget about the long history of men doing far worse to women than reading their medical records. And regardless of how painful you feel this arrangement might be for you, all you have to do is show up and do a specified job. All the real work will fall on me while you get the one thing you’ve always wanted.”

He doesn’t stop glaring at me, but some of the tension around his mouth and eyes has eased by the time I stop talking. But I don’t wait for him to respond. I just turn away, grab my bag where I had left it on the coffee table, and exit the apartment the same way that I’d entered.

FOUR

Ren

Well, that was a complete and utter mindfuck.

I don’t consider myself an overly emotional guy, and at this point in my life, I rarely allow myself to get caught up in drama or any type of business that might negatively affect my reputation. Of course, that’s not to say I didn’t dabble in drama and reputation-staining behavior in my younger years. And if I’m completely honest, the number of years where I didn’t give a fuck probably far outnumber the years where I attempted to fix my reputation.

So, Cassidy’s view on my overall character probably isn’t too far off the mark. Then add into that the fact that the paparazzi drive a majority of the information she would find on me, and that would have my title as the biggest asshole in the world signed, sealed, and delivered.

I’m relatively certain she walked out of here at least an hour ago, yet here I am, still sprawled on this couch, staring at the ceiling in shock. Lord knows there’s a lot to be shocked about. First is the fact that she showed up at my apartment and broke in. Honestly, I wouldn’t have thought she had it in her.

And then for her to have the balls to proposition a man whom she isn’t exactly fond of, knowing full well the likelihood that I’d tell her to get fucked and then send her packing without actually fucking her.

I’m also still surprised that she so eagerly let me fuck her.

I don’t believe for one second that she showed up here, intending for that to happen. I know I baited her into it, but I don’t feel bad because I gave her every chance to back out.

And she’s also right in the fact that there really is nothing quite like a good hate fuck.

My body kicks into gear at the reminder. Then I squash it down as I’m also reminded of the fact that she willfully invaded my privacy, and none of this would have happened if I had turned out to be a disease-ridden lowlife. The fucking nerve of her.

Still unwilling to move, I grab the remote off the table next to me and flip on sports highlights. I only have to wait a few minutes before tonight's game pops up on the screen. I turn up the volume, knowing that the two guys leading the discussion will be 50/50 split on loving and hating me. I’m not sure if either of them really likes or dislikes me, but that’s just the nature of the newscast.

Of course, the bigger highlight is me losing my shit and ending up in the penalty box for the second time. They can’t highlight the two goals I made or what could possibly end up being a new high goal-scoring record for the season. They’re too busy talking shit about my attitude and my age and how I better get my shit together before I end up injured, released, or just outright forced to retire.

I resist the urge to throw the remote at the screen, hitting the power button and then dropping the remote back on the table unceremoniously instead. I probably wouldn’t be so annoyed if they weren’t correct in everything they’re saying. But at somepoint, I know I’ll have to decide once and for all because I’d much rather leave on my terms than by injury or force.

---