Page 82 of Ready Or Not
I feel him flex, and his cock nudges against my entrance. I brace, expecting him to slam into me like he always does.
But he doesn’t. He just presses in slowly, and as he does, he brushes a strand of hair back from my face.
“Poor Riley. You just want someone to love you?” His gaze is mocking.
“Fuck you,” I hiss. Something in my chest tightens. Love is for losers. I hate love.
Manson rocks back gently, then presses back into me, his dick filling me up.
“Oh, Riley.” He pants, sneering at me. “Yes, Riley, I love you.”
“Stop!” I jerk my hands out from under him and rake them down his back. Manson groans as they break the skin, stiffening in me more. Somehow, when the words come out of Manson’s mouth, they sound different. They sound…good.
And I hate that response. Because of all people, Manson has the ability to hurt me. And he’s getting way too close for comfort. I growl, “Stop being a pussy and fuck me like you mean it.”
“What if this is how I mean it?” Manson snakes a hand down between us to play with my clit. “What if I’m panting after you, Riley?”
“Then I’d say you’re weak.” The anger is rushing through my body. “And I hate weak.”
Manson just laughs. “Say that to me when you’re coming all over my dick while I’m worshiping this body.”
I rip my nails down on him again, trying to get a reaction, but it just makes his dick twitch in me.
I hate this. I hate this because I could like this. I struggle to get away from him, but that just gets Manson off more. So, I stop fighting.
Two can play this game, dickhead.
Instead of digging into his skin, I relax and massage Manson’s back softly. “Oh, Manson,” I moan. “Fuck yes.”
He looks at me.
I just arch my back into him. “You feel so good.” The words send a forbidden thrill through me. Stop it, Riley. We’re just playing a game.
Manson looks at me, confused. His face is so perfect, his jawline so strong, and his lips so biteable that I do something impulsive: I grab his face and smash my lips into his.
Manson stiffens. I just deepen the kiss, sucking his tongue into my mouth and nipping it. That seems to wake him up, and he attacks my mouth back. We fight for dominance while our bodies are still softly grinding.
Manson’s fingers on my clit are sending pleasure through me. And I hate that. I grind my hips up into him softly and feel his dick twitch again. So he’s not as unaffected as he’d like to appear.
I smile into his lips.
“What?” Manson stares down at me, his green eyes searching mine.
“Nothing.” I grin at him. I’ll get him to come first.
Manson just doubles down, slightly adding pressure and speed to his hand. His dick strokes more upwards, rubbing against my G Spot. Pleasure shoots through me, and I snap my eyes closed.
Manson chuckles. “You’re cute. You think you’re going to win this game?”
“What game?” But his hand is relentless. I think of anything else. Of the dream I had. Of the way Rachel somehow understood and calmed me down. Of her pretty little face with her blue hair and pale skin.
I feel myself get wetter and moan, trying to buck Manson off.
“Atta girl. Take my dick like a good girl.”
“Fuck off,” I growl.
“I will. Just as soon as you come.” He’s still being soft, and I can feel every inch of his muscled body as it lays over me. He’shot, and I hate that I have to admit that. I don’t get much of a chance to just feel him when I’m fighting him.