“I hate you.” I sigh against his lips.
“No you don’t, you just want to.” He says, he’s right I don’t but saying that I hate him is easier than admitting I missed him.
“That’s okay, I’ve wanted to hate you for years.” He says against my lips. He releases my neck, and I immediately miss the pressure, my body feels like I tapped into a live wire. Using both hands, he palms my ass cheeks before hoisting me up around his waist. I lock my legs around him on instinct. The sundress I’m wearing exposing my bare ass to anyone in the vicinity. Thank god Boston chose to ride with the roadies for a bit. Rhyit walks us back to the back bedroom while I wrap my arms around his neck. Once we’re in the room, he throws me on the bed, and the springs cause me to bounce again on impact before settling against the comforter.
“You’re a shit head you know that, right?” Rhyit asks as he undoes his belt. His comment pisses me off, I’m not the one who didn’t tell the band, I’m not the one who sold a song made specifically for him.
“I’d rather be a shit head than a selfish prick.” I growl.
“I’m selfish? Look at you, our fans love Pistol, and you won’t even allow them to hear it.” He spits, undoing the top button of his jeans.
“They wouldn’t even know about it if it weren’t for you.” I yell, moving to sit up from the bed. His hand meets my shoulder, and he pushes me back down. My back hits the bed and anger bubbles to the surface.
“And what a tragedy that would be. You know people use it as their wedding song? It’s a high school dance anthem? You can yell and stomp your feet about it, but our fans love that song.” He frees his cock from his boxers, and my insides pulse.
“I’m not having sex with you.” I spit, still staring at the hard length. “You’re a sociopath.”
He shrugs, “I prefer creative but whatever you wanna call me.” He smiles. “And yes we are. You want to hate me, baby? Take your anger out on my body. Let’s pretend your thighs hate each other, we should keep them apart right?” He asks, moving my thighs apart to expose the black lace “What about your panties?” He asks, lowering his body to kiss the inside of my knee. He leaves open mouth kisses along the delicate flesh and goosebumps scatter across my skin. I feel a rush of moisture between my legs as he moves his mouth closer. “Your body hates those too,” he says, grabbing the edges of my panties from around my hips.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask breathlessly. My body overheated and chilled at the same time. I’m turned on and pissed off, and the combination is making a mushy mess.
“Your eyes are saying no, but your body is fucking screaming yes. Yell at me, hit me, let it all out, baby. Call me a coward and a pussy and see what I do to your body. Tell me I’m selfish and a prick, I’ll make it so you can’t sit down tomorrow. Push me, baby, I want to see your claws.”
He pulls his shirt over his head exposing his tattoos and chiseled muscles, his defined abs and pecs make my mouth water, and my fingers itch to touch him. But his words resonate with me, the threat easily exposed. He wants my anger, my wrath, my words. My emotions torn between fuck you and I’ll fuck you.
Using all the strength I have, I grab his waist and pull him down on the bed. Once his body hits the bed with a slight bounce, I throw a leg over the top of him, my knees landing against the lower part of his ribs. I grip the base of his cock and guide the monster to my entrance. I do a small circle around the hole to get the tip somewhat lubed up before I sink lower, my body takes his length inch by inch until I’m fully seated, my clit touching his pubic bone. With a long inhale, I place my palms against his chest and start to move. Up and down, up and down.
“Yes baby, ride me.” He whispers, his pupils blown with need. I move my hips quickly, up and down, my thigh muscles burn as I push harder and harder. His palms find my hips, guiding me. His cock moves in and out of me, the piercing hits the spot inside of me that pushes me closer and closer to the edge. When his thumb finds my clit under my sundress, a low moan leaves me, his rough fingers make small circles against the hardened nub, and my lower stomach pulls deliciously. My finger nails dig into his chest as wave after wave of euphoria hits me. I don’t even think I’m moving anymore, he’s fucking me from the bottom as my muscles tighten, and my walls grip him.
“My turn?” He asks out of breath as the last of the orgasm wracks my body. I nod, and he flips us, my back hitting the bed softly.
He lifts my leg to his hip and slides back into me easily, my body quakes from the rippling effect his piercing leaves behind and the overstimulation from the orgasm.
“You feel so good.” He moans, both of his arms braced against either side of my head. My dress is bunched up around my waist as my breasts overflow the cups of the dress. Andrew’s hips piston in and out of me as we both come closer and closer to falling over the edge. I can tell he’s getting close as his body starts to shudder so I tighten my walls around him, the need to watch him fall apart growing with every thrust. I use my stomach muscles to tighten further, and he inhales sharply from the new sensation.
“So fucking tight.” He praises. “Tell me you’re mine. Tell me this pussy is mine.”
“Yes!” I yell, hurdling quickly to another orgasm. “It’s yours. Oh fuck!” I moan loudly, the sound echoing against the walls. My back arches off the mattress as my muscles tense, my entire lower body pulsing.
“Yes, baby, take all of it.” He whispers as his eyes flutter closed, his jaw slack as a guttural moan leaves him. I feel his cock twitch against my walls as heat radiates inside me.
“Jesus!” He sighs, his arms giving out slightly causing him to rest more of his weight on me. “We should have hate sex more often, that was hot as fuck.”
“I like when you do that.” I murmur, running my fingers down his spine absentmindedly.
“Do what?” He asks, lifting his head from my shoulder to look at me.
“When you lay on me. It feels like you're letting me carry some of your weight, letting me hold some of your worries.” I whisper, not meaning to say all of it outloud.
His lips pull into a sweet smile. “Do you want to carry some of my weight? My burdens? Because let me tell you, they’re pretty fucking heavy.” Andrew laughs lightly, but something else hangs in the laughter, sadness or grief, maybe guilt, I’m not sure.
“I used to carry some of them for you.” I smile, memories hitting me closer to the heart than I would like them to.
“What burdens do you carry?” He asks, propping his elbows on either side of my head. Andrew is a big dude, at least 6’2” with stock. I know he’s not giving me his entire weight, he’s holding some of it back, just like I am with the burdens I carry.
“None that I can hand off, none that you would want to carry.” I reply against his lips.
“You sure about that? I’m pretty strong.” To emphasize the point, he flexes his arms which I have to say are marvelous.