If You Hate Me (Toronto Terror #1) Read Online Helena Hunting

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Forbidden, Funny, Sports Tags Authors: Series: Toronto Terror Series by Helena Hunting
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Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
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We both groan as he pushes inside, his thick cock stretching me, the head putting pressure on the plug.

He cups my face in his palms and rests his forehead against mine. “Fuck, Bea, nothing compares to this feeling.”

It’s so much tighter like this. And the intimacy is heady and overwhelming. I’m already so close. It won’t take much to make me come. But Tristan doesn’t move, doesn’t pull out and push back in, doesn’t rock his hips and give us what we both need.

“Do you remember what I said?” His fingers tremble against my cheek.

“Huh?”

“When do you get to come?” He kisses the corner of my mouth.

“Tristan.”

“I promise it’ll make it even better.”

“But I’m so close already,” I admit.

“I know. I need you on the edge, Bea. That’s where I always am when I’m with you.” He shifts his hips back, and I fully expect him to push in, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls all the way out. I clench around nothing and whine my displeasure.

His smile is salacious as his cock glides over my clit. “You don’t come until I’m fucking your ass, Bea.”

“Oh my God, you’re horrible,” I gripe, biting my lip.

“You love it.”

I do. So fucking much.

He folds back and uses one forearm to keep my knees pressed to my chest while he fists his cock with the other. And then the real teasing begins. He circles my clit with the head, presses the tip inside me, gives me a couple of inches, but pulls out again. Over and over. He keeps barely fucking me. Filling me for one stroke before pulling out again. Amidst the maddening torment, he leans in to kiss me. “Soon, baby. You’re almost ready.”

I’m mindless with want. Desperation and acute need consume me. I’m so wet, so close to coming it’s a physical ache.

This time, when he fills me again, I wrap my legs around his waist, desperate not just for the orgasm just out of reach, but for him, for this closeness, for this feeling to never end. Just as I’m about to tip over the edge, he pulls out. He sits back on his heels and taps the plug with his erection.

“Please, Tristan. Oh, God. Just please.”

“Knees to your chest,” he orders.

And I comply. Because all I want is to come, and I trust that he’ll make this good for me. He always does. He works the plug free, thumb circling my clit to keep me on the edge. He tosses it to the floor and grabs the lube from the nightstand, coating his cock and my ass before he rubs the head over the opening.

“Nice and slow, Bea.” He presses the blunt tip against me and carefully eases the head inside. He’s thick, a lot thicker than the plug or his fingers. I tense and whimper at the sharp sting and the sudden burn.

His thumb circles my clit. “Just relax, baby, deep breaths. You got this.”

I take a deep breath, and another, and another.

“Focus on what feels good.” He eases a finger inside my pussy, then resumes circling my clit as he pushes in another inch, past the first barrier. I exhale a shuddering breath as the sting subsides and pleasure follows.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he praises.

He doesn’t push in farther, not yet, just rocks his hips a little and keeps circling his thumb. The orgasm hits me like a slow rolling wave, washing over me, dragging me down with the intensity, radiating through my entire body. I quake and shudder and moan. And then he’s pushing in deeper, past the next barrier, and I keep coming, wave after wave of bliss.

“Mine. All fucking mine,” Tristan grinds out. He adjusts me so I’m on my side, my knees hooked into the crook of his left arm. His nose brushes mine. “So good, little Bea. You’re doing so good. How does it feel?”

“I c-can’t st-stop c-coming,” I stammer.

His fingers are gentle on my cheek, his smile all satisfaction and primal desire. “And I haven’t even started fucking you yet.”

He takes it slow, hip rolls and gentle thrusts and endless praise, until I ask for more. Until I’m begging him to fuck me. Until I’m screaming his name and digging my nails into his arms as I shudder and clench my way through another intense orgasm.

Afterward, he runs us a bath and fills it with bubbles. He helps me into the tub and gets in behind me, settling me between his legs. He kisses my neck and squirts body wash on a pouf, gently wiping the sweat from my body. We stay in the tub until I start to doze off. Then he towels me dry, changes the sheets, and brings me cake in bed. When I’m full and sleepy, he wraps himself around me and tells me how perfect I am.


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