Dare You to Hate Me by B. Celeste (best android ereader .txt) 📗

Your personality. Your mind. Your problems. Your goddamn companionship. Because that’s what I’ve missed since the day I watched you disappear into the night. Stop trying to push me away. It won’t work.”

My fingers tighten in her hair, pulling her head back by the tresses tangled in my fingers so her eyes lock with mine. “I’ll ask again. What do you want, Ivy?”

Something snaps inside her, and she shows me her answer by crushing her lips against mine.

Chapter Fifteen

Ivy

My control disappears and all there is in this moment is Aiden. His mouth on mine, hands gripping my hips, body pressing me against the wall until I’m wrapping my long legs around his waist, and his hands sliding to palm my ass, only covered by thin panties.

I’ve lived the last few years believing that there aren’t such things as regrets because every decision made, no matter the outcome, is a lesson learned. And all the other guys who have kissed me with a purpose, touched me with a destination, and taken me to bed with a plan have never done so with as much passion as Aiden Griffith is right now.

He turns around and walks us to the bed, our frantic lips never breaking as my back hits the mattress. I part my thighs to make room for him to settle between, and he continues torturing me with his full lips. I’ve been kissed by a lot of men, but none of them compare to the boy who’s trying to inhale the memories we share as if this is the only way to remind himself they exist.

His tongue traces the inner seam of my lips before tasting mine—our lips clashing and teeth clattering in a show of dominance before I’m flipping us over to straddle him.

“Do you want this?” I ask him, pulling far enough away to talk without touching the mouth that greedily follows mine for more.

“Do you?” His breath is coming just as fast as mine, his chest rising and falling rapidly under my palms that rest on his pecs.

The heat building hotter and hotter between my legs is nothing compared to the ache as I grind my hips down on his hard cock, proving just how badly I want this. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?” I challenge, sliding my hands under his shirt and rolling my hips. Between his boxers and my panties, there’s little barrier keeping me from the part of him that I desperately want inside of me.

He groans and grabs the hem of the shirt I stole before peeling it off me and tossing it onto the floor. His eyes instantly take in my full breasts on display, his hands moving up the curves of my body before cupping them in his hands and squeezing with a groan. “You’re going to fucking kill me, Ivy. When the hell did you get so goddamn sexy?” His thumbs tweak my nipples before he sits up and takes one of them into his mouth and suckles before drawing back enough to add, “You were always beautiful but this…”

Biting down on my bottom lip, I arch my chest into him to absorb the feeling of his mouth and hands taking over every sensation racing through me. I moan his name under my breath when he tugs my nipple with his teeth before switching to the other, guiding his hand to knead its twin. My fingers go to his hair, massaging his scalp, pushing his mouth harder against me, as I begin moving my hips and feel the wetness pool with the need to have him naked.

“Shirt,” is all I manage to rasp, pawing at the material covering his hard-earned muscles. He pulls away, the sound of my breast popping from his mouth the only noise between us besides my heavy panting. His hand moves to tug the shirt off in one go and disposes of it with what he’s already stripped off me.

Our hands become frenzied as they coast against each other’s bare skin—mapping out every curve, muscle, freckle, and stretch mark. I’ve never been self-conscious when stripping down with other guys. Most of them only had one end game in mind and couldn’t care less that my stomach jiggles certain positions. With Aiden, there’s a strange sense of yearning for him to find me as sexy as he says I am—a girl without imperfections despite me being a shell full of them.

There’s always been something raw about letting someone see you naked. They’re not just seeing your body, but the smallest details that make you who you are.

Your past marred by scars.

Your present wrapped in skin.

Your future highlighted in small smiles and hopeful eyes.

His hands find my hips.

Mine find his biceps.

His squeeze my thighs.

Mine coast across his sculpted abs.

When his fingers dance along the top of my panties and trail down, down, down until they’re barely brushing my covered slit, I mewl out an incoherent plea for him to touch me.

Aiden always knows what I need.

Moving aside the cheap material, he strokes me up and down torturously slow. The pad of his thumb rubs my clit in circles until I’m moving my hips to find the friction I need and writhing when one of his fingers slips inside, quickly followed by another. There’s no need to beg because his digits start pumping in and out of me, causing me to grip his shoulders and begin lifting my hips to ride it out.

“Aiden, please.” Bending forward, I bury my face into his neck and breathe in the soap and sweat on his skin as I ride his hand like I would his cock. I nip his neck. “Need you.”

He helps me lower my panties and his boxers down so we’re both free, the air in the room thick with anticipation as it brushes where I’m wettest. “Condom,” he grates breathily as I wrap a hand around his large girth and pump the hardened steel in my hand.

I want to tell him it’ll be fine, lie and