Page 39 of The Bully Alien

Only I'll never be prepared for.

I step away from him and cross my arms. "You can't blame me for this, and you now it."

"Maybe. Maybe not, but you... You came into my life like..."

I can't help smirking. "Like a wrecking ball?"

"You certainly smashed it to smithereens," he mutters.

"Well, go ahead then. Smash the rest of the fucking spaceship to smithereens. You know you want to, so go ahead. Go ahead and do whatever you want."

He looks at me for a moment, his eyes softer now but still blazing with the fire of hate. His lips part slightly as he takes a deep breath before stepping closer to me once again. His hands come up to cup my face gently as he leans forward until our lips meet in a passionate kiss that sets all my senses on fire. It's like nothing I've ever felt before—the perfect mixture of passion and anger, fury and hate, intensity and vehemence.

But fury wells within me. He's touching my face. Both cheeks.

He's touching my scar.

I bite his tongue, not hard, and maybe he realizes he's overstepped because he immediately drops his hands to my shoulders.

Instantly, I relax enough to allow our tongues to battle each other as we explore one another's mouth, pushing and pulling against each other in an attempt to knock the other down so that we can be the one who is on top. Neither of us give in, neither fall, and we move around one another like two waves crashing upon the shore during a violent storm.

When we break apart, we glare at each other, neither of us willing to back down. Our faces are so close together I can feel the heat radiating off his body again, and it makes me hot and bothered all over, and yet I'm shivering, trembling even. Fuck! I hate how he makes me want him even as I'm sizzling with hate for him. I'm so angry and frustrated that I want to punch something... or someone.

Without a second thought, I do the only thing that comes to mind.

I get down on my knees, yank down his pants to free his giant cock, and kiss the tip.

"Fuck," he hisses.

"Lie down," I tell him.

For once, he doesn't fight me, and he drops down to the ground.

I lick the length of his shaft, but instead of taking his cock into his mouth, I continue to lick up his chest, along his neck and then kiss him again. His lips move against mine in a passionate frenzy and it feels like our anger is dissipating into the kiss and turning into something else entirely.

That thought terrifies me, but I refuse to back down, to cower from him, from this.

Somehow, our environment fades away as we explore each other with an intensity that can only be described as hate sex. I rub my pussy against his cock, and I want to take that next step, to do what I wanted to do before, to ride him, but I don't know if it'll be any good.

"Fuck me already," he groans.

"Of course you want me to do all of the work," I murmur.

He groans again. "You're going to make me fucking explode all over me," he snaps. "Either put me in or let me be on top."

"Oh, so you're giving me permission, huh?"

He smirks. "Don't tell me you're afraid."

"Don't tell me you think that shit is going to make me do what you want."

"What is it you want?" he asks even as he moves his hips beneath me, clearly trying to maneuver himself into position to enter me.

I swallow hard. Inside, I'm a storm of emotions. As much as I want to give into pleasure, I'm slowly becoming more confused than angry, and if I lose that anger, can I dare to keep this up?

Because if this isn't hate, angry sex, what is it?

I don't want to know.