Page 47 of Hate the One You're With
“As a matter of fact,” she purrs, stepping closer, just enough to make my breath hitch, “I’ll be taking a shower, so I can feel more . . . refreshed.”
I should be the one taking the shower. My cock is getting so fucking hard, it’s a wonder I can still think straight. All I want to do is push her against any surface, feel those curves pressed up against me, and make her moan my name. I imagine tearing those tiny shorts off, my hands gripping her thighs as I lift her up, the heat of her core driving me insane as I slide my length into her, right there against the wall.
The way her breath would hitch as I thrust into her—hard, deep, the friction making her gasp and cling to me. Her nails would dig into my shoulders, leaving marks that would remind me of this moment later, every scrape a promise of more to come.
I can almost hear the sound of her voice, breathless and desperate, as she begs for me to go faster, deeper, until herscreams fill the room, her entire body trembling with the need for more, only more. And I’d give it to her, every last bit of what she craves, until she’s lost to the pleasure, her mind blank but for my name on her lips.
The thought of filling her, of burying myself so deep inside her that there’s no part of her untouched, no part that isn’t claimed by me, drives me wild.I want to feel her shudder as I slam into her, over and over, until I can’t hold back anymore.
I imagine the way she’d gasp when I finally lose control, filling her up, marking her as mine again. The way her eyes would glaze over, knowing she’s been claimed, that she’s full of me, every drop a reminder that she belongs to me.
And fuck, the need consumes me, makes me want to take her until she’s completely and utterly wrecked, and all she can think about is how much she needs me, how much she wants to be filled, claimed, and absolutely owned.
But instead, I just stand there, my fists clenched so tight my knuckles turn white, watching her disappear into the bathroom. The sound of the water turning on does nothing to calm the storm raging inside me. I know she’s doing this on purpose, playing with me, testing my control.
And damn if I don’t want to fail that test spectacularly.
Chapter Thirty
Emmersyn
Caleb is so predictable.
One tiny, skimpy pair of pajamas, and he’s already salivating; his brain short-circuiting as though he’s forgotten how to function. I can practically feel the searing heat of his gaze tracing every curve of my body as I walk away. The thought sends a delicious thrill through me, my pulse quickening with the knowledge of whatI’m doing to him.
In the bathroom, I turn on the shower, letting the steam envelop the space as I peel off my clothes, my skin prickling with anticipation. The warm water cascades over my body, soothing and comforting, but it does nothing to quell the burning heat inside me.
My mind races back to Caleb—his dark, predatory eyes, the way his body tensed, coiled with barely restrained desire when he saw me. The way he looked at me like he wanted to tear those flimsy pajamas off and take me right there, hard and unapologetic.
What would it take to make him snap? To abandon the control he’s clinging to and fuck me the way I know he wants to—rough, urgent, with that perfect blend of dominance and hunger that always leaves me shattered and begging for more?
My hands roam over my body, fingers teasing the peaks of my breasts, my nipples hardening instantly under my touch. I linger there, squeezing and caressing them the way he used to, imagining his hands instead of mine. The memory of his rough palms sliding up my breasts, the way he’d grab them, kneading them with possessive force, sends a shiver down my spine. I can almost feel the weight of his cock between them, the way he’d press against my chest, sliding up and down with that wicked grin on his face, watching me through hooded eyes as he drove me wild.
My breath quickens as my hand glides down my body, fingertips skimming over my stomach until they reach the heat between my legs. I part my thighs, my fingers slipping into the slick, wet folds, teasing my swollen clit with slow, deliberate strokes. A moan escapes me as I imagine Caleb’s handreplacing mine, his fingers knowing exactly how to work me until I’m writhing under his touch.
I picture him behind me, pressing me against the cold, slick tiles, his hard length pushing into me, filling me completely with each powerful thrust.
The way he used to drive into me, relentless and consuming, his hands branding my waist as he pounded into me, taking everything I offered and then some. My fingers slide deeper, imagining his cock thrusting into me, stretching me, the delicious burn that would leave me breathless.
I press three fingers inside my pussy, feeling my walls tighten around them as my thumb rubs against my clit, the dual sensation sending shockwaves through my body. My hips buck involuntarily, grinding against my hand as I chase the sensation, my need growing more desperate with each passing second.
The tension builds to a fever pitch, my fingers working frantically to mimic the rhythm I crave, the rhythm I know he’d set. I can almost feel him, the raw intensity of his movements. The way he’d push me right to the edge, only to drag me back and do it all over again until I was a quivering, needy mess.
As the pressure inside me coils tighter, I can’t hold back any longer. “Caleb,” I scream his name, loud and desperate, my voice echoing off the walls. “Yes, fuck me like that. Harder, I need it harder.” The words spill from my lips, raw and unfiltered, as my fingers pump faster, harder, mimicking the way he used to take me—ruthless and unrelenting. “Please, I need you to fuck me so hard, don’t stop. Fill me up, Caleb. Make me yours. Please, I want it so bad.”
The release slams into me, my body convulsing as I scream his name again, the sound torn from my throat as the pleasure rips through me. My fingers curl deep inside, my thumb pressing hard against my clit as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over me. I slump against the wall, gasping for air as the water continues to pour over me, my legs shaky, my mind fogged with the lingering echoes of pleasure.
“What would it take,” I murmur to myself, my voice trembling with the remnants of my climax, “to make him lose control? To make him forget the rules and boundaries and just give in to the raw, primal need that pulses between us?”
Chapter Thirty-One
Emmersyn
When I arriveat the kitchen, Caleb’s avoiding my gaze like he’s got something to hide. His focus is locked on the fancy coffee maker, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands grip the counter just a little too tight. A smirk tugs at my lips. I have a feeling that he heard me in the bathroom—there’s no way he didn’t.
The thought of him listening, wanting,has my pulse quickening all over again. My mind spins with the image of him standing outside the bathroom door, fists clenched, jaw tight, battling with himself not to barge in and take me like he used to.
Did he really think I was going to let him have my inheritance that easily? I know the one thing he can’t resist—my body. He claimed it, molded it the way he likes it, making me submit to his every desire. I trusted him with it, but I also learned how to bring him to his knees with just a few well-placed, dirty little words. He might be the one who dominates, but I’ve discovered the power in surrendering, in giving him exactly what he wants while getting everything I need in return.
