Page 36 of Kiss Me Like I Didn't Kill You

“Yes,” she throws back, her breath ragged.

“This isn’t love, or any other bullshit you’re thinking. This is a hard fuck to get you out of my system.”

“You talk too much,” she pants, her eyes flashing. “Don’t worry, I won’t fall for you.”

It should satisfy me. That’s what I want, isn’t it? Instead, rage twists inside me that she can say it so easily.

I crush her mouth with mine again just as I erupt, and she clenches one last time, coming apart on my cock. Our moans break into each other’s mouths.

We stay like that, breathing hard, before I finally pull out. I strip off the condom, toss it aside, and rinse quickly. The silence between us is thick, charged, our eyes locked and burning.

Once we’ve dried off and stepped back into her room, she turns for the closet, but I stop her.

“I’m not fucking done with you.”

I shove her onto the bed, she falls back, and I’m on her in an instant. Another condom on, I thrust into her again, driving deep into her tight heat as I catch both her wrists and pin them above her head.

When I feel her begin to clench, I pull out suddenly, making her whimper in protest.

“On all fours,” I order, dragging her into position. Her arse lifts perfectly, and the sight nearly undoes me. I grit my teeth, and slam back into her.

“Look in the mirror,” I rasp.

It takes her a second, but then she does, turning her gaze to the long glass at the side of the room. The reflection catches us both, her body open for me, my cock sliding into her, slow and merciless. She moans at the sight.

“Watch the way I fuck you.”

I quicken my pace, one hand at her clit, circling with just the right pressure, while the other grips her arse before sliding up to her breasts, rolling her nipple between my fingers until she’s writhing.

We don’t look away from the mirror. The sight of her taking me, the way I drive into her, it’s everything.

With one final thrust we come together, breathless and shaking, undone in each other.

We collapse onto the bed, breathless. The air between us shifts, weighted with something I refuse to name.

I strip the condom, toss it aside, and fetch a washcloth from the bathroom.

Returning, I wipe her down carefully. She’s a vision sprawled there, well and truly fucked.

Before my head can start spinning with thoughts I don’t want, I shove them down and slide into bed beside her.

This is where I ought to sneer, to spit some cutting line about how I despise her, then walk out.

It was meant to be what I said—a hard, quick fuck to rid her from my system.

And yet it’s backfired spectacularly.

She isn’t gone from me, she’s lodged deeper.

She snatches up the remote and flicks on some ridiculous vampire series, utter rubbish, and makes herself comfortable.

And because I’ve already crossed every line and rule tonight, what’s one more? I reach out, pull her against me, and her head rests warm and damp against my chest.

Cuddling. For fuck’s sake.

“This means nothing,” I mutter, the words falling from my mouth, like a broken record. Maybe I’m saying it more for myself than for her.

“I know,” she murmurs.