“None of your business,” I argue, grabbing my phone off the counter. He grabs my wrist as his eyes widen.
“Excuse me? Seems someone forgot who she belongs to.”
“I don’t belong to you, Cullen,” I say, pulling my wrist away.
“The fuck you don’t. What the hell crawled up your ass today?”
“You!” I yell back. I love watching the fire build in his eyes as he stares daggers at me. Lighting Cullen up is easy, and I can feel myself getting excited just watching him fight back. “I’m not going to stop dating just because you think this shit is okay or because you think I owe you something. I don’t owe you shit, Cullen and as long as you’re not willing to give me what I want, then I guess I’ll have to look elsewhere.” My eyes focus on his intently as I say that, and we both know what I’m talking about, the thing Cullen isn’t giving me.
“You fucking bitch,” he growls as he charges, and I do fight him. In earnest, I try to get away from him, but he’s too strong. If he wants a fight then I’m not going to pull my punches.
As he snatches me toward him, I swing, aiming hard for his face and he takes the first slap, but blocks the second. Before I can swing a third, my arms are bound tight at my sides and he’s carrying me to the bedroom. He smells like cold air and sweat with traces of his masculine scent beneath it. I could get drunk on him, and even in the heat of the moment, when I know I’ve unleashed a monster, poked and prodded him just to get him to let loose, I find myself growing attached. I think my heart latches even more intensely to this version of Cullen, the version I brought out. The version that belongs to me.
He slams me down on the bed, knocking the wind out of me. “You don’t think I know what you’re doing?”
“Get the fuck away from me!” I scream at him, kicking at him as he tears off his shirt, and the sight of his moist body makes me falter, but I keep up the fight.
As his fingers grab for the waistband of my pajama shorts, I stare at him wild-eyed and frantic, trying to stop him even though it’s exactly what I want. I’m caught in this whirlwind, my mind and body so overwhelmed with emotion and need I don’t know what I’m trying to achieve here.
His hands are rough, and the look on his face is full of anger and desperation. I want to reach up, touch him, kiss the madness off his face, tell him to look at me and be mine, but that’s not who we are. That’s something a long-term lover would do, and I’m not stupid. I know this thing with Cullen has an expiration date. When he has gotten this hunger for revenge out of his system, then he will be done with me, so I might as well get as much of him now as I can.
My bottoms are off in a quick swipe so that I’m lying naked from the waist down. I don’t expect him to do what he does next, so I’m reaching for his pants when he drops to his knees and buries his face between my legs. The instant contrast between adrenaline fueled anger and sudden overwhelming pleasure is intense, so intense, I let out a strangled cry as his tongue punches hard into me. It’s almost too much, too wrong, too misplaced. But it’s him, and he’s touching me, and I let myself melt into that thought.
“Cullen,” I gasp, arching my back and burying my hands in his hair.
He moans, pressing his mouth harder against me, his tongue going deeper. Hooking his arms under my thighs, he practically fuses his lips to my body.
“Don’t stop,” I cry out. “Please don’t stop.” I’m so afraid he will. I can practically feel it already, the sudden absence of him, and I don’t know what I’ll do if he does. I’ll lose it for real.
But he doesn’t stop. He settles in with no end in sight, and I lose myself in the pleasure. I don’t care that I could be late for work or that he’s my student or that he supposedly hates me. I don’t care about any of it because right now, none of that matters. It’s just us, him and me and this intensity between us, burning like an inferno.
“I need you, Cullen,” I groan as I feel my orgasm creep closer, and it’s perfect, but it’s not what I want. With him still between my legs, I tear off my shirt and reach for him. “Please.”
When he pulls his face away, I let out a sigh, thinking he’s giving me what I need, but he doesn’t. Instead, two fingers thrust hard into me, and he groans, his voice deep and guttural. Pumping them hard, he puts his mouth back on my clit, and I lose my mind.
“What are you doing to me?” I say with barely enough air in my lungs to breathe. Everything is so intense, I want to cry. I want to sob and scream, and tear open my heart and give it to him. I almost can’t handle it anymore. “I’m coming,” I pant. “Coming now!”
Instead of pulling away like he would have yesterday, he sucks harder, thrusts deeper, and everything that happens to my body takes me to a different plane of existence. It’s like the emotions in my heart are fused with every nerve ending in my body so that my orgasm shoots out from my heart and almost kills me.
My orgasm quakes and quakes and quakes, and I can’t stop it, and he doesn’t let up. I think after a few moments it won’t ever stop, and I let out a cry—a real one, tears streaming down the sides of my face onto my mattress. I reach for him again.
“Cullen, please!”
He’s on top of me in a heartbeat, devouring my mouth the way he was just devouring my sex, making me taste myself. Making me like it.
I realize then that he’s naked. He must have shed his clothes when I had been too mind fucked to notice, but I feel his thick erection heavy on my belly as he kisses me. My eyes are squeezed shut, tears still streaming when I wrap my legs around him, inviting him in.
“You still want to fight me?” he mutters darkly against my mouth. “You still want to pretend you’re not mine?” When I try to shift my hips to meet his cock, he takes a hold of my face under my chin to make me freeze. “Fucking open your eyes, Everly.”
I feel the moisture on my lashes, but I stare at him, our eyes locked in a blazing hot gaze as he presses his cock to my entrance. “Still think you’re not mine?” He shoves roughly until he’s seated deep inside me. We both let out a heavy groan, and he settles himself even deeper until our bodies are joined as one. My legs wrap around his hips, trying to capture him in this spot.
“Tell me you hate me now,” he grits out as he pulls back and slams in again. His hands clutch me hard, one behind my neck and the other around my waist.
“I hate you,” I whisper, as another batch of tears flow out of my eyes. I’m not sad or scared or hurt, but the intensity of the moment forces them out, and I can’t stop them now.
Cullen shoves his hips against me again and again, fucking me hard. My eyes won’t leave his face, desperate to capture this look of pain and pleasure he’s showing. And I want to take my words back. I know he wanted to hear me say I hate him just to play the part, but I don’t hate him. I feel something as intense as hate, but that’s not it at all.
So as he thrusts, chasing his orgasm, feeling what I did a few moments ago when he tongue fucked me to another planet, I do what I wanted to do before. I reach up and take his face in my hands, pulling his lips down and kissing him tenderly, searching for the sweet boy who isn’t so filled with rage and spite. This version of Cullen may be mine, but I’m hoping that they are all mine in some way. After only a week with him, day in and day out, I want to believe that I have some claim on him, a part of Cullen Ayers to keep forever, a part I helped to mold and even if it’s in hatred, I want to know that his emotions are tethered to me.