Page 84 of Cruel When He Smiles
He kisses like he’s trying to erase the world, like he’s trying to replace every thought I’ve ever had with his name—vicious, possessive, branded into the curve of my neck like a threat.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, his breath is unsteady, and he looks at me as if I’ve just done something I can never be forgiven for.
…How fun.
Liam
Everythingstopswhenhislips meet mine.
The confusion, the frustration, the gnawing sense of something wrong inside my head—it all fucking stops.
This kiss is a claim, a command, and a fucking sentence passed down and delivered without mercy. Every inch of tension between us, all the snarling, biting, back-and-forth bullshit we’ve been playing at—it breaks open beneath that kiss like a dam cracking wide.
Nate gasps into my mouth, his hands in my hair, dragging me closer, grinding against me, and fuck, it sets my blood alight. When I finally rip my lips from his, his breathing’s wrecked, but the fight’s still there in his eyes, that stubborn fucking spark that makes me want to ruin him even more. “Take me to your room, Pup.”
His smirk widens for half a second like he’s about to challenge me, but then his throat bobs as he swallows, his pupils stillblown wide, his hands gripping me like he needs something to hold on to. “You giving orders now?”
I chuckle before gripping his chin between my fingers, forcing his gaze to stay locked on mine. “No, baby,” I correct, my tone condescending. “I’m giving you the opportunity to listen. Otherwise, I’ll make you regret it.”
His throat bobs again, but he pushes me away, dragging in a shaky breath before turning on his heel. “Fine,” he mutters, like he’s doing me a favor. “Follow me, Lover.”
I let that slide for now and follow close behind as he leads me through the frat house, past the partygoers, past the rooms where his brothers are still drunk and laughing. His fingers tremble as he shoves open his bedroom door.
He steps inside first, but before he can turn around, I’m on him, pressing him against the door, and ripping his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. My hand slides to his throat. “On your knees. Now.”
He scoffs, defiant to the end, but his knees bend anyway. He doesn’t drop easily, and he doesn’t drop softly. He drops like he’s ready to spit in my face, and god, I love that about him.
I take my time unbuckling my belt, watching him glare up at me with heat in his eyes and rebellion in every breath. But he stays on his knees, licking his lips as he stares up at me.
Good fucking boy.
I grab the back of his head, twist my fingers in his hair, and tilt his face up. “Look at my pretty little slut,” I murmur. “So obedient.”
Fuck me, I could come from that glare alone. “I hate you.”
“You’ll come on my cock and still say that.” I smirk. “But your body knows better, doesn’t it, baby?”
He opens his mouth to snap something back, but I shove two fingers past his lips before he can speak, pressing them to his tongue.
He gags slightly, lips parting wider, breath catching—and that is what makes me groan. The way he stares up at me, eyes watering, pupils blown, cheeks flushed from the sheer audacity of letting me take him like this. I push down hard enough to remind him whose name he fucking moaned the last time I broke him open.
I tilt my head, watching him like he’s art I already own.
“You gag like a virgin, Pup,” I say, dragging my wet fingers out slowly, watching the trail of spit stretch between us. “That mouth’s smarter than it is useful, but we’ll fix that.”
He gasps for air the second I pull out, spit smeared down his chin, and still finds the strength to glare up at me like I haven’t just pulled the breath from his lungs. “Go fuck yourself.”
My cock twitches behind the zipper of my slacks, already aching. “You gonna be a brat while you’re on your knees?”
Nate growls and tilts his chin up, defiant even as he leans in closer. “I hope you choke on your own ego,” he spits.
I can’t help but grin. Fuck, he drives me crazy. “No, baby. You’re the one choking tonight.”
His glare sharpens, but he doesn’t move. He sits like an obedient little pet, waiting for his master to give him his next order. I slowly reach for my belt again, letting the tension build as I pull the leather free from the loops with a satisfying snap. He watches every motion, lips parted, chest rising too fast for someone pretending not to care.
I fist my cock and stroke it twice, eyes on him, watching how he tracks the motion like he’s starved for it. I can see the moment pride slips into hunger. The moment his pupils dilate even further, and his lips part like they miss the taste of my fingers.
I guide his head forward with one hand still tangled in his hair and press the tip of my cock against his lips, dragging it across the soft swell of his mouth. His tongue flicks out to catch the taste, and he moans. “Open,” I say, no room for argument.
