I close my eyes, blocking him out. I won’t let him reach me. He can use my body, I can’t stop that, but he doesn’t deserve to reach me.

His hand slides down now, out from under my shirt, to slip between my legs. I try to squeeze my legs shut but he already has his fingers there, pushing inside me.

“I still don’t want to fuck you,” I grind out, eyes still closed.

“Mm, your body says otherwise,” he tells me, before surprising me with a kiss. Not a nice kiss, not a tender kiss; he assaults my mouth, his tongue overpowering mine, reminding me who’s boss, in case I forgot.

As if I ever could.

His kiss stirs my desire, and it infuriates me. I shove at his chest, but it’s useless. When Mateo doesn’t want to be moved, there’s not much you can do to move him. I shove him anyway, turning my face to break his kiss. I open my eyes, so he can see the storm brewing there.

“I loved you,” I tell him, lowly. “I loved you and you didn’t care.”

A flicker of something crosses his face, but it’s gone too fast for me to know what it was. “Of course I cared. I still care.”

“You told me you didn’t with your actions. I begged you not to do it. I begged you.”

“And you know how I like you begging,” he tells me.

This pisses me off, and he’s just right there—so I dig my fingernails into his thighs and drag them across his skin as hard as I can.

Hissing, he throws his head back. “Fuck, Mia.”

I glare at him, and he glares right back, but his glare’s a lot more intimidating. I feel like I’ve swallowed my heart, then he grabs me by the hair, forcing me up off the bed and pushing my head down once I get to my knees. I think he’s going to make me suck his cock, but instead he shoves my face toward his thighs, holding me there with his hard grip on my head.

“Now you kiss it and make it better,” he demands, a touch mockingly.

I’m a ball of resentment as I leave loveless pecks along the trail of scratches. I almost drew blood in one spot, and seeing that makes me feel bizarrely guilty. My kisses suddenly soften, no longer hard pecks, but actual kisses. And then it gets really hard, because the sensation of my lips brushing his skin unleashes a dormant strain of tenderness for him, the memories of how much I adore this man rushing over me. In this moment, as I kiss his thighs like I’m really sorry for hurting him… well, I am. The warring feelings overwhelm me—my heart telling me he’s precious to me, that he’s my world; my brain telling me he’s a monster, a demon, a threat to my very well-being. My heart is so stupid, so unbelievably stupid. No matter what this asshole does to me, it has this indestructible well of softness for him.

I don’t expect to—I certainly don’t think he expects it—but now that I’m here, and I’m confused, and for a blessed moment I can’t remember the misery that’s been with me all week, I gingerly take the tip of his cock into my mouth. I grasp him at the base with my hand and run my lips down over him, taking him as far as I can.

“Oh, Mia,” he groans, rubbing my back, encouraging me.

His approval triggers everything else. As I move my mouth up and down his cock, moaning, I only want to please him. It’s like a chain reaction in my body, independent of my heart, my mind. He hits the right buttons and I fall at his feet, no matter what.

It’s a relief, though. As I work his cock like someone who loves him, I’m momentarily free of the pain. It’s a mental break for me, escaping into this uncomplicated pocket of lust.

But it doesn’t last. My mind eventually recalls, as I look up at him, how callously he behaved toward me that night. How he hurt Vince. Pain slides in, clearing the lusty haze.

I force myself to stop, pulling my mouth away and sitting up. He still has his fist tangled in my hair though, so he uses it to yank me back over to him, his lips crushing my mouth again in a bruising kiss that I can’t help accepting. The bastard pulls me right back in with his kiss: his lips expressing tenderness, but his firm grip on my hair reminding me he’s in charge.

He pulls me back after a minute, looking into my eyes. “Still don’t want to fuck me?”

Even as I throb with hunger for him, I swear, “I still don’t want to fuck you.”

“I don’t believe you,” he says, pushing me down on my back so I’m on the bed looking up at him.

Source: www.StudyNovels.com