Page 54 of Jerk
Maybe I don't know who he is. It's all starting to blur.
“You’d do the same.” His face comes closer and I can feel every word on my lip. “Admit it, Hannah. At the end of the day, you’re just like me.”
“I-I’m not.” I hate the way my voice shakes, his warm breath like a soft caress. “I hate people like you. I hate you.”
“Prove it.” His eyes drop to my lips, lingering on them.
My breath hitches.
My body stills.
Before I know it, he closes the small distance between us and his lips smash into mine.
TWENTY
HANNAH
What thefuckam I doing?
It’s like I lit a match. No, a bomb, because the minute my lips touch his, the world shatters around me.
Rain combines with the taste of tobacco and mint, and when he parts my lips with his tongue, it gets harder to stand.
My arms wrap around his neck, and in one quick swoop, my back hits the tree, the bark rough against my skin. His lips lift for a moment, and it’s agonizing the way I want them back on me.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he says, his heavy breath against my lips. He pulls my arms above my head, pinning them in place as his eyes fall to my breasts, wet from the rain. His damp slacks push against me, and that bulge inside is way too hard to ignore. “I really shouldn’t have done that.”
Does he feel it too? The knot tightening in my stomach? My heart pounding against my chest? Everything inside me screaming for more? “Don’t stop.”
He growls, claiming me with his lips again as thunder claps around us. His hard body presses into me as his lips move to my neck, fireworks igniting in my stomach.
“If you want me to stop, you need to use the safe word.” The word is on the tip of my tongue, his mouth moving lower and lower. “Hannah…” he growls, but the way he says my name only makes it harder.
A gasp escapes me when he tugs the top of my dress, exposing my breasts to him and the elements. I don’t even care that he popped the straps as he grazes a finger over them. His mouth follows, my nipples hard under his touch. He kisses each one before taking one in his mouth, his finger pinching the other. A moan escapes me as fire burns between my legs. One I need him to quell. Now.
“You like this control I have over you.” His hand leaves my nipple, hard and aching as he moves between my legs. He tugs my panties to the side before his fingers slide through my slick folds. He groans against my ear. “You’re always so fucking wet when we're like this.” He pushes his hips into me, harder, the bulge in his pants pressing against my clit. The hard fabric against my centre makes me rock my hips against him. “Tell me I control you.” His grip tightens around my wrist, his hand coming to my strands. He tugs, hard, a ripple of pain mixing with pleasure. “Tell me how badly you want me to.”
“Never.” His grip drops before he grabs a hold of my thighs and wraps my legs around his waist. I can feel him more, the movement of his hips teasing my centre, stirring that fire. “Show me how much control you think you have, Rowen.”
“I will,” he growls, the sound of his belt mixing with the sound of the rain against the leaves. I can’t tell what’s sweat and what’s rain, the heat of his body pressed against mine. My body begs for more when I feel his bare length against my thigh. He’s hard, like… really hard. He pushes his hips forward, his cock sliding between my folds. My body trembles, waiting for him, needing him. “Do you see what you’ve done to me, Hannah?”
“Show me.” My words come out a panting, breathy mess.
His body stills, his forehead landing on mine as those eyes pierce into me once more. “Is that what you really want?”
I don’t give myself a second to think about how wrong this is. I don’t give myself a second to calm down. Everything inside me begs for him, and I don't care if I'm proving him right. He's too close to deny it.
"Yes. Please.” I can feel him throbbing between my soaking slit, the tip of his dick right at my entrance.
“What about?—”
“I’m on the pill, please just fuck me.” My eyes gaze right into his, a smirk coming across his face.
“You're so fucking pretty when you beg.”
My mouth widens, a loud gasp escaping me when Rye slides inside me. My thighs squeeze around him, his first thrust shallow, slow. His second thrust makes my head fall against the tree before his hand comes to the back of my head, forcing me to look into his dark eyes.
“Unh, unh, Kitten,” he teases. “I want to see how you look when I make you lose control.” His third thrust is hard, deep.
