Page 80 of When love and Hate Collide

One by one our clothes disappear, not that we’re wearing much. Dean is in a pair of boxer shorts and I’m in an oversized shirt and booty shorts. Dean presses himself against my entrance and pulls back to look down at me as though seeking assurance. The moonlight filtering through his window offers just enough light that we can see one another. My legs snake around his waist, silently giving him the affirmation he’s in quest of and I keep my eyes on his when he slowly feeds himself into me. My lips part and I draw in a slow breath as he little by little fills me until he’s completely immersed. The silver dog tags around his neck hang between us and I reach up, curl my fingers around it and pull him down to my waiting lips.

The previous times we’ve had sex has always been intense and fiery, but this time we’re not fucking, there’s not a trace of anger or hate between us—there’s only passion and a perilous need for each other that neither of us understands but also can’t seem to get enough of.

Every thrust, stroke and kiss held meaning, one my body responds to urgently while I reach climax, shaking in his arms, holding back the urge to cry out with every rush of pleasure that crashes over me pushing me to the edge. “Let it come baby, let it come, I’ve got you,” Dean whispers, pressing his forehead to mine and thrusting into me with sluggish strokes, sweeping the crown of his cock over my g-spot again and again until I can no longer hold back and my body tenses when I hit that enchanting peak and free fall. Dean pushes himself into me to the hilt and keeps himself there while I clench and flutter around him.

“Fuck,fuck, you’re coming so hard,” he pants, his brows fusing while he edges himself and holds back the urge to climax. When I rock my hips back and forth, riding out my orgasm Dean moans, biting down on his lip. When my orgasm ebbs away and I’m no longer squeezing him he sits up and lifts me into his arms, my body coils around him, our lips fuse and we kiss slow and deep, rocking against each other, building to another release, this time I’m taking him with me. My head lulls back and Dean presses open mouthed kisses down my throat.

“S-shit, oh, I’m going to come.” I pant when I feel the pressure building again not even two minutes in. I press my forehead to his, “Come with me.” I plead breathlessly.

At my request Dean grips my hip with one hand, rocking himself up into me, his other hand is curled at my nape while his mouth dexterously attacks mine. I’m aching to feel him throbbing and pulsing inside me while he fills me with his hot seed. “I’m with you,” he pants, nipping at my lower lip, “Fuck me, milk me dry, baby.”

Every time he calls me ‘baby’ my stomach flips with exhilaration. Grinding and gyrating my hips against his until that pressure consumes me and I explode around him. Top to bottom fireworks wring through me rapidly. Dean follows me over and the deep timbres of his moans, combined with the feel of him pulsating and spilling rope after rope of his warm cum inside intensifies my pleasure. My toes curl, the legs I have wrapped around him quake while he slowly thrusts into me fucking me through my release until I sink against him panting, my body aglow with the post orgasm rapture.

We remain in that position for a couple of minutes, Dean’s face is pressed against my throat, his soft lips brushing soft kisses against my pulse point. My fingers gently stroke the back of his neck as our bodies calm, eliciting a melodious sound of appreciation from him.

Dean lifts his head, and he looks at me. I hold his gaze, my eyes closing when he brushes a kiss to my lips as he lays me back. God, he’s such a good kisser I almost whimper in protest when he pulls back ending the sensual kiss and leaving my mind in a haze. The post-coitus part with us is always awkward, because neither of us really know how to act or what to say. When things get hot and heavy and we’re hate fucking usually it’s raw passion in its purest form, but what we just did was unlike anything we’ve ever shared, which has now left me feeling even more frustrated and confused than I was before. While I’m busy trying to navigate through my musings, Dean gets up and comes back a moment later with a clean wet cloth for me to clean myself up with.

Thank goodness it’s dark in his room and he can’t see the deep shade of mortification on my face. When he’s busy cleaning himself up and pulling his boxers on, I get myself dressed. “Uhm, I better go.” Dean looks at me over his shoulder, brows knitting when I move over to the window.

“Don’t even think about going out of that window, JJ.” There’s a serious edge to his tone that stops me in my tracks.

“Why? I’ve spent my childhood crawling in and out of that window.” Dean moves over to me, and I crane my neck to look up at him questioningly when he towers over me with his six-foot frame.

“Not while you’re pregnant you’re not,” he asserts sternly, and I sigh.

Oh, right. Of course, I’m pregnant.

“Well, unfortunately I haven’t quite mastered the ability to teleport yet, so the window is the only way out.” I try to justify but he shakes his head.

“You’re not going out of the window. I’ll sneak you out the back door.”

I roll my eyes, and shake my head incredulously, “Well, there’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear from you. Dean Reyes sneaking me out of his bedroom in the middle of the night. Who would have thought?”

The corner of his lip lifts, “That makes two of us, then again, hearing the words, ‘Dean I’m pregnant’ still sits quite high on the list of things I never imagined hearing from you.” It’s my turn to smirk. “Come on, lucky for you I’ve become a master of sneaking girls out of here over the years.” I glare up at him and smack his arm with my hand. “Ow,” he chuckles, rubbing his upper arm where I punched him.

“You better be joking, Reyes or I’ll kick your whore arse straight down those stairs, I don’t care who hears.” I warn him grimly and he flashes me a grin so sinful it would melt my panties right off… if I were wearing any that is.

“Aww, are you getting all possessive over your baby daddy?” he drawls teasingly and reaches over to squeeze my chin affectionately. I bat his hand away and glare up at him unamused.

“You’re not funny and if you call yourself that one more time, I will throttle you.” I warn pushing him toward the door while he guffaws quietly. Dean opens the door quietly and looks around before he reaches back and laces his fingers with mine. My eyes drop to our hands fleetingly and I quickly shake off that giddy flutter that effervesces inside me.

I follow him on my tiptoes through the corridor, avoiding looking at Ashlyn’s door as I pass by on our way toward the stairs. Thankfully we make it to the ground floor and through to the kitchen where the back door is located.

“Wait.” Dean looks back at me quizzically. “Why can I smell pie?” I gasp, “Does your mum have any of her banoffee pie in the fridge?” I ask, my eyes all wide and hopeful.

Dean frowns, straightening. “Probably, she was baking something this afternoon, but how the hell did you just sniff that out, you weirdo?”

I shrug and my mouth salivates at the thought of Aunt Tay’s delicious banoffee pie. “How can you not? The magnificent smell of her biscuit base and the scent of caramel is everywhere.” I tell him quietly while moving over to the fridge. Dean watches me curiously, and sniffs.

“It really isn’t, and my sense of smell is quite sharp.” He tells me in a hushed voice.

“Shut up and hand me a fork, will you?” Dean opens the drawer in the island in the middle of the kitchen and hands me a fork as I take out the already half-eaten pie.

Oh baby, come to mama.

I cut out a slice and dig in. When that first piece touches my tongue I melt into a pile of goo, “Oh my God.” I moan, taking my time chewing the luscious dessert and savouring in the sweet yet decadent taste.

Dean watches me devouring the pie one piece at a time and moaning in gratification from his position leaning against the island. Sucking the fork clean, my eyes lift and lock with his. “Want some?” I offer with a soft smile, and he licks his lips and moves over to me. I cut off another piece with my fork and hold it to his mouth when comes over. Dean glances down at the fork briefly before he looks at me again and eats the pie. “So good, isn’t it?”

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