Page 47 of When love and Hate Collide

“I loathe you and your very existence.” I whimper in frustration, and he nods, sitting upright.

“I know you do,” he affirms and feeds his dick inside me, filling me up once again. “And I love to fucking hear it.” He says, pressing the crown of his dick against my clit hard. “I’m going to edge inside you, I’m going to use this tight cunt like it’s my personal fleshlight and you’re going to take everything I give you.” He declares, sliding himself long and thick into me. “With every orgasm I fuck out of you I want you to look me in the eyes and scream how much you hate me. Do you understand?”

“You’re a sick fuck.” I mewl and he smiles bleakly and licks his lips, curling his fingers around my throat again.

“And you’re a dirty whore.” We moan simultaneously when he starts to thrust into me with ravaging strokes.

After the third orgasm I lost track of how many times I climaxed. We fuck each other like it’s an act of war, hurling insults at one another the entire time. Dean’s body is glistening with sweat where he’s been edging for over an hour, not allowing himself to come. I’m currently straddling him, face flushed red while rocking back and forth building to another orgasm while he sucks and bites on my nipple, his green eyes watching me fixedly. The bed frame squeaks underneath us, the headboard hitting the wall with every wild thrust of my hips as I go over the edge.

“Oh, god, oh god Dean, I’m coming,” I pant, my vaginal wall clenching around him. Dean’s eyes roll back while he flexes his throbbing dick inside me. I dig my nails into his shoulders so hard I’m sure I drew blood.

“Fuck, I know you are, I can feel your hungry little cunt choking my dick.” He pants, “There you go, there it fucking is, oh fuck yes baby girl, come on daddy’s fucking dick.” Dean’s fingers fist my hair and he draws my mouth to his, kissing me almost violently while he thrusts up into me, his hips slapping against mine. Dean fucks me through the orgasm when I tense while my body is racked with pleasure.

After my orgasm ebbs away, he wraps an arm around my waist and flips me over onto my back and pushes my knees back as he penetrates me with hard strokes. “It’s my turn now,” he moans between pants, staring into my eyes like he wants to see into my soul. Dean takes my hand, licks my fingers and pushes my hand between my legs. “Play with your pussy while I come for you.”

I don’t waste a second deliberating, I’ll probably be full of regret after this is over, but in that moment with him, I didn’t think about the consequences, I couldn’t. I stroke myself, watching him while he thrusts himself to climax, using my body to pleasure himself.

Dean lowers his eyes to watch me stoke my clit and bites his lip. I can feel myself getting closer to orgasm and so is he if the way he’s pulsing inside me and the way he’s audibly moaning is anything to go by. “Fucking Christ, JJ, this cunt of yours is driving me crazy.” He grunts, gripping my hips and pushing himself deeper into me. “I can’t fucking hold back any more, you feel too fucking good.” A couple more thrusts, and Dean pulls out of me, grips the base of his cock and sprays his seed over my stomach and breasts. All that pressure of holding back has his body convulsing with every surge of his climax. Honestly, the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. “Ahhh, fuck, fuck JJ.”

Watching Dean come spurs my own climax and I come apart under him, our groins juddering in unison until our orgasms slowly wash away and he collapses on the bed beside me, both our chests heaving to catch our breath.

Minutes go by in silence while our spent bodies calm. Our legs are still tangled like a pretzel. And there it is, while I’m lying there naked, covered with his cum, the flood of guilt comes crashing over me like a freight train tightening my chest and the back of my eyelids burn. Dean, gets up and walks to the bathroom. I hear the water running and her reappears a moment later holding a wet cloth. He crawls up on the bed, and I watch him warily as he uses the cloth to clean me up.

“What are you doing?” I question, my voice an octave above a whisper. I curl my fingers around his wrist to stop him and he lifts his eyes to look at me.

“I’m cleaning you up.” He states matter-of-factly and I blink, taken aback and shake my head, my cheeks burning. Which I find absurd after what I allowed him to do to me.

“I don’t need you to—”

Dean pulls his wrist out of my hold and continues to clean me up.

“Be quiet, JJ.”

After he’s done cleaning me up, he disposes of the cloth and comes back holding a bottle of water for me. “Drink this and go and empty your bladder.” I stare up at him a little startled. Why is he being sonice?

I take the bottle of water and drink a good amount. I didn’t realise how dry my throat is until that first drop of water hits my tongue. I go to the bathroom, close the door and run the tap so he doesn’t hear me peeing.

I stare at myself in the mirror for a long moment while I wash my hands. My lips are swollen, my face still flushed, eyes rimmed red from lack of sleep and my hair is a tousled mess. If there’s ever an award for the world’s worst friend, I would win it without question.

What the hell am I going to tell Ash?

I brush away the tears that roll down my cheeks and straighten myself out before I walk out of the bathroom. Dean is already in bed, laying on his back, one arm tucked behind his head staring up at the ceiling. I bite the corner of my lip, wondering if he’s feeling as shitty as I do right now for betraying his sister.

I walk over to the bed on my tip toes and after I climb in the light goes out, leaving the room in complete darkness. It’s almost four in the morning, won’t be long before the sun starts to come up. I lay down on my side, facing away from Dean, curling into the foetal position. The silence in the room is deafening, the tension suffocating. The bed shifts and my heart leaps when Dean wraps a strong arm around my waist and pulls me back until my back is pressed against his chest.

My body tenses when he nuzzles my neck, brushing soft kisses along my shoulder. “Dean,” I whisper warily and his arm tightens around me.

“Be quiet and let me take care of you,” he whispers in my ear. His tone isn’t firm or full of malice like it usually is. Instead, it’s soft, and dare I say full of affection. I close my eyes, and all tension leaves my body and I melt against him.

“Why?”

“Because we both need it after what we just did. You can go right back to hating me in the morning, but right now this is necessary.” I shift and turn to face him. It’s so dark in the room that I can’t see him, I can only make out his silhouette. Our legs tangle and Dean’s hand wanders over my body, caressing the bare flesh of my hip. My hand moves up his muscular arm and winds up on his face, caressing his jaw, tracing the outline of his lips with my fingertips which he kisses. Dean pulls me closer until I’m flush against him and our foreheads are pressing together. My lips replace my fingers, and we kiss languidly.

“I really hate you.” I whisper against his lips and feel him smile against mine.

“I know.”

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