Hate to Want You

by Alisha Rai

  So why did hearing him say those words hurt so much?

  “It’s never been like this before. Every year I’d come back from our . . . meetings, and I’d eventually get back to my life. I’d sleep and eat and socialize and be normal. But you being here, so close . . .”

  “I can’t leave,” she cut in.

  “I didn’t say you should.” His glance at her was savage, his voice dipping to a low whisper she had to sway toward him to hear. “I waited the week of your birthday. The day before. Even the fucking day of your birthday, until the clock struck twelve. Waited for one message that never came.”

  He was pummeling her with feelings. Giving her bursts of pleasure and a hit of pain.

  But didn’t that basically sum up their whole relationship?

  “You were right. If this was a matter of getting each other out of our systems, we should be done by now. But I don’t feel like I’ve moved on.” His tone turned guttural. “Even now, all I can think about is getting you somewhere dark, with a bed. Without a bed. It doesn’t matter.”

  She passed the back of her hand over her mouth, and her brain latched on to his words. Work him out of her system. Yes. Yes, that was all she needed.

  The tension and desire and need between them could be released like the valve on a rice cooker, and they’d go back to sleeping well and not agonizing over how the other person was so close and so far away. Right?

  He cleared his throat and shook his head. “Forget it. What’s your mom’s address?” he asked gruffly. He cursed before she could respond. “Hang on, I think I left my phone inside.”

  Livvy ran her thumb over the screen of her own phone while he jogged back to the building.

  If you haven’t worked him out yet, what makes you think a final screw will?

  It wouldn’t. She was lying to herself in order to engage in a dumb, self-harming decision. Her body was revved up, the heat between them impossible to ignore.

  You said you were going to stop. Move on. Look forward. Take care of yourself. Yeah, she had. But it was far easier to stop when one wasn’t in constant proximity to the addiction they were eager to cure. Right now, she was like a recovering smoker who vowed to go cold turkey while a lit cigarette rolled just out of reach.

  At worst, she’d wake up with a slightly more bruised heart.

  It’s so knocked around already, do a few more blows really matter?

  She touched her chest with shaking fingers. Oh, Livvy. Don’t do this. This way lies madness.

  But the relief. She’d have relief, even for a few minutes. Respite from her lust and her stress and her problems and worries. Pure pleasure, where she wouldn’t have to think about her family or her life or her lost love.

  She quickly opened the browser and typed in a search.

  Then she texted Nicholas.

  Livvy shoved her phone in her pocket like that would make her less complicit in the frankly stupid action she’d just taken, or would make her less ashamed of the shoddy justification she’d given for engaging in said act. Her heart raced, her palms sweating. She wiped them against her bare thighs, her skin almost too sensitive for contact with herself.

  Nicholas emerged from the building a few minutes later and walked down the pathway. His face was clean of all expression. He got inside the car.

  He could have not seen her message. Or ignored it. She laced her fingers tight together and pressed them against her belly.

  Then he placed his phone in the dashboard mount, open to a map with the coordinates she’d texted him.

  “The usual rules?”

  “Yes. One night,” she whispered. “I need . . .”

  His hand landed on her thigh, shocking her with the heavy heat and electrical tingle that ran through her body. His rough fingers stroked higher, moving her short skirt up, clenching on the soft flesh there. They both stared at the way his fingers molded the skin. How many times had his fingers dug into her thighs while he slammed his body into hers?

  She needed. Christ, she needed.

  Nicholas released her to put the car into drive. “I know exactly what you need.”

  Chapter 7

  THIS WAS a terrible idea. Beyond terrible. Reckless. Dangerous.

  All things she made him.

  Energy and excitement roared through him. His senses felt like they’d been cranked into hyperdrive.

  It was wrong, and his brain knew this was going to end poorly. For the good of everyone who depended on him, the best course of action was to go home and get ahold of these wayward thoughts and irrational emotions.

  That is not the best course of action, his boner argued, drowning out the rational part of his brain. He and Livvy would screw tonight, and then they could mosey on with their lives, happy and satisfied the pattern of their behavior had been fulfilled.

  Fool. His penis was a fool.

  Nicholas drummed his fingers against the steering wheel to the rhythm of the lust beating in his veins.

  When they’d been young, they’d come to this motel on the outskirts of town a time or two. The place had been run-down then. Now it was veering sharply into seedy.

  She came out of the office, her short skirt fluttering in the breeze, lifting enough that he caught a glimpse of her bottom under the deceptively innocent schoolgirl-plaid skirt, encased in black tights. Her small breasts strained against the white button-down shirt she wore, her red bra visible.

  He didn’t want to think of her going to a bar in that ridiculously provocative outfit, or about other men salivating over her thighs and breasts and neck.

  Neck?

  Yes, goddamn it, even her fucking neck was sexy, long and elegant, with that cute little hollow at the base, the perfect spot to suck on while he was fucking her. Surely she wasn’t trying to drive him crazy by possessing that neck, but here she was, succeeding nonetheless.

  She didn’t glance at his car. It had gone against the grain to let Livvy reserve the room, but she’d merely had to make the valid point that he could be recognized, and he’d reluctantly conceded. He could be recognized, depending on how old the clerk was and how long they’d lived in this place. Livvy, though . . .

  Despite her ridiculous schoolgirl outfit, she wasn’t the girl she’d been when she left town. Her hair, her clothes, even her attitude was subtly different. He’d watched every change happen over the past decade in a time-lapse video. There was nothing he didn’t like about the differences in her now.

  Dangerous.

  Right. Right. This was about sex. Nothing else.

  She headed down the walkway, the flickering streetlamp in the parking lot burnishing her hair with red and black. She didn’t wobble a bit on her pencil-thin heels, reassuring him that though she’d been in a bar, she wasn’t anywhere near intoxicated.

  He got out of the car, taking care to pull his collar up and lower his head, feeling ridiculous as he did so. He was a grown man. Who cared if he had sex with another consenting adult?

  Lots of people, starting with his father, but he wasn’t going to think about them right now.

  His strides were longer than hers. Her heels and skirt made it difficult for her to do more than mince. He made it to the door a second after she got it open, and followed her in, kicking the door shut behind him. She stripped off her light fall jacket and tossed it on the floor. “Liv—” was all he had a chance to say before she was in his arms, shoving him back.

  It was dark, the only light coming in from the crack between the dingy curtains. Her lips pressed against his, and he inhaled the scent of her, each drugging kiss making his head spin. She crawled up him like he was a pole, her arms and legs clutching for balance.

  It took him only a second. One second of having those red lips devouring his hungrily, one second of that hot sinner’s body pressing against his own, and all semblance of rational thought flew out of his brain.

  Who cared about tomorrow? He was too enflamed to wonder about anything but the here and now. Too excited to even consider this a bad idea
. He kissed her back as if he would die if he didn’t get her mouth, licking and sucking and memorizing the very taste of her. He slid his hands over her ass, gripped her luscious cheeks tight, and spun her around, pushing her up against the door.

  He ripped his lips away, holding her from him when she might have forced her way back. “How do you want it?” he growled. He had an inkling, from the signals she was broadcasting, but it had been a while since he’d had to read those signals.

  “Hard . . .” She scraped her nails over the back of his neck. “Use me. Make me feel it tomorrow.”

  The wild look in her eyes was sharper than he’d ever seen it, and it ramped up his own lust. He dragged his hand over her ass, rubbing the fabric against her bottom. “This outfit is indecent.”

  Her lids dropped to half-mast, and she arched her back. “You don’t like my clothes? I’m heartbroken.”

  “You look like a schoolgirl.”

  She tightened her legs around his waist, rubbing up on him. Her heat and wetness was obvious, even through the twin barriers of her underwear and his pants. “A naughty one? Who needs to be punished?”

  He should feel ridiculous, but instead his body hardened more, blood engorging his dick. “So naughty.” His hand slipped up her leg to her hip and the strip of fabric there. He used his other hand to arch her back farther, feathering his fingers up her spine. “I could see your ass while you were walking outside.” He traced his hand around the waistband at her back and clenched the fabric in his wrist, pulling the bikini and her tights taut, digging into the folds of her pussy. Her eyes widened.

  He tightened his grip. “Were you purposefully strutting around in this skirt, your ass hanging out of it?”

  “N-no.”

  “You’re lying. Do you know what I do to liars?”

  Her nails dug into his skin. “Tell me you spank them.”

  A red haze swam in front of his eyes, and he pushed her legs down so she was standing. Then he grabbed her by the waist and spun her around to face the door.

  He grasped her by the hips and pulled her to stand with her back in an arch, then flipped up that ridiculous plaid skirt. It took him a second to lower her tights to her thighs. Her red panties barely covered the curves of her ass, making him growl. He didn’t know what bar she’d been in, but he imagined her seated in some dingy smoke-filled dive, anonymous bastards salivating over her tight body. Fuck, all it would have taken was one shimmy, and everyone could have gotten a free show, these tempting round globes exposed but for the silly scraps of fabric she’d put over them.

  You have no right to be jealous.

  He palmed her cheeks, rubbing his thumbs over the plump flesh. “Do you know how badly I wanted to pull you onto my lap and flip this skirt up the second I saw you?”

  “To fuck me or to spank me?”

  “Both.”

  She arched her back more, her ass wriggling. He didn’t think, merely lifted his hand and smacked one full cheek, his rational, caring side standing far apart and watching in horror. He’d never spanked a woman before. As scrappy as Livvy was, he hadn’t thought she’d like this.

  Her moan suggested otherwise.

  He got it. He got the appeal of this, with Livvy bent over in front of him, legs spread, skirt lifted, red panties exposed, and the hot flesh of her ass filling his hand. He slapped her other cheek, and she moaned again, louder. Hell. He could see the appeal of literally doing anything with Livvy, to be honest.

  “Was that okay?” he had the semblance of mind to ask her.

  Her hands had braced against the door, and her fingers curled in. She nodded, her red-streaked hair rippling over her back.

  His next tap was harder. “You’ve been so bad, Livvy. Tempting all those men tonight. Tempting me.” He smacked her again. “You’ve never stopped tempting me.”

  She whimpered. “I’ll stop.”

  “We both know that’s impossible.” He squeezed her left cheek, dropping to his knees behind her. With his teeth, he carefully lowered the panties over her ass to meet the rolled-up waistband of her tights. He stayed there, luxuriating in her body as he pressed soft kisses over each cheek, punctuating each tender touch with a slap of his hand.

  When she was rocking back against his mouth, he pulled away. He came to his feet. Unable to take his gaze off her tight body, he walked backward until his knees hit the cheap bed. Nicholas slid down to sit on the floor, his back supported by the bed. The sliver of streetlight illuminating the room highlighted her sweet, reddened buttocks. He tore at his jeans, growling when his hand met his throbbing cock. He needed to jerk off or get in her pussy. Something. Anything. Literally whatever would relieve this ache as soon as possible.

  She peeked under her arm and straightened, skirt dropping down to cover her bottom.

  A crime, covering that butt.

  Livvy stripped off her tights and panties and then turned to face him. “Nicholas?”

  He ran his hand down his cock once, then twice when he noted the hunger in her gaze as she watched him fondle himself. He grazed the tip, and his body jerked. “Take off your clothes. Shirt first.”

  “Do I have to?” Her breathless question was pseudo-innocent.

  “Unless you want to be punished.” How he’d punish her, he wasn’t sure. More spanking? Licking her until she wept with the need to orgasm? Fucking her until she screamed?

  These didn’t sound like terrible punishments for either of them.

  Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of her shirt, and she undid them one by one, so slowly he knew it was a tease. He tightened his hand on his cock, because he knew if he didn’t, he’d demand she come over here so he could rip the offending material right off her.

  She stripped it off her shoulders, leaving her in her bra, her toned belly inviting his lips.

  “Now the bra.”

  She unsnapped the front snap and drew both cups of red lace away from her breasts. They were perky and lifted on their own, the small handfuls the perfect fit for his palm. Her brown nipples were tight and pointed, giving away her excitement. Her breasts rose and fell, her gaze locked on his hand. He made his pulls slower and more explicit, both to give her a show and to make sure he didn’t blow too quickly.

  Her hand dropped to the waistband of her skirt, shoving it down, leaving her completely naked. She licked her lips, making the remnants of her lipstick shiny and vibrant. He imagined those lips wrapped tight around his cock, him whispering, Suck me, while guiding her head over his lap.

  He shook his head, trying to shake the filthy image from his brain, and released his cock. “Come here.”

  She walked over. Her hand unselfconsciously slid over her belly and pussy. She was wet and hot and plump, nearly hairless, save for a small landing strip. The pot of gold tattooed at her hip was a dark shadow. “Closer.”

  She planted one foot on either side of his hips. With his position sitting on the floor, her pussy was right at eye level for him.

  “Show me how wet you are.”

  She swallowed, a flush rising up her chest. Her painted fingernails caught the light as she moved over her folds. With her index finger and thumb, she held herself open as she stroked her fingers over her clit and then inside.

  He was helpless to watch her pleasure herself. Her head fell back, and her hand moved faster even as he stayed in complete stillness. It was self-preservation that had him gritting out, “Stop.”

  She halted immediately, her chin lowering, eyes opening. Her hand eased out of her pussy, the cheap lighting casting a glossy glow over them. “Do you want a taste?” she murmured.

  “I always do.”

  Her fingers traced his lips, the scent of her arousal driving his higher. He opened his mouth, waiting for her to slip them inside, but instead she drew her hand away, bringing them to her own lips. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked each finger, a smug, satisfied look in her eyes.

  He tilted his head back against the bed and ran his tongue over his lips, taking in whatever little
bit she’d deigned to give him. Nicholas ran his hand up her legs until he could grasp her ass. Quickly, taking her off balance, he yanked her closer so his head was right between her thighs. She cried out and widened her stance, placing her hands on the mattress above his head for support.

  Nicholas drew her ever nearer, creating a dark, wet place for him to feast. His tongue slid along the crease of her thigh, tracing the shaking dip, then the other side, before burying against her pubic bone.

  He’d seen her au naturel, completely bare, sporting various designs in her hair, and one interesting year, decorated in sparkling accents.

  He didn’t care how the hell she decorated her private places, so long as he could lick them.

  A god. That’s what he felt like when he was between her plump thighs, his tongue and lips driving her to madness. If he could, he would eat nothing but Livvy for sustenance.

  “Please, Nicholas.”

  He nuzzled his nose against the strip of hair there. “Please, what?”

  “Please lick me.”

  He gave her a tiny swipe of his tongue, and her thighs went rigid on either side of his head. “Nicholas.”

  Another swipe.

  “Harder.”

  “Say it.” He punctuated his demand with a slap against her ass.

  “Fuck me with your mouth.”

  He growled against her flesh and pressed wet, openmouthed kisses all over her vulva, using two fingers to open her up.

  He stiffened his tongue and thrust inside her, spanking her harder than he’d dared before, squeezing and pulling apart her ass cheeks as she gyrated above him. Her cries grew louder and he supported more of her weight as her legs shook.

  She’d always been a screamer.

  Her pussy contracted around his tongue and he welcomed every tightening and releasing motion, drinking in her pleasure. When she relaxed, he ducked out from her legs and came to his feet. She’d worked most of her body onto the bed and lay sprawled in an undignified heap, face-down, her legs still spread. He quickly stripped out of his clothes, taking a second of sanity to grab a condom from his wallet, before stepping up behind her, selfish desire riding him now. He needed to pound himself so deep inside her she’d feel him for days to come. “Brace yourself.”