Hateful Desire

by Marianne Willis

  Chayton staggered to a stop at the hallway when spotting her, his face taut with tension and determination. So it wasn’t a simple dream, but one they shared.

  He stalked forward, closed the gap between them, and secured her face. Firm lips followed next, sealing hers in a long, breathless kiss.

  This was why she had dove into the river in their dream. She ached to be in his arms, for his mouth to sweep hers like this…the way he should have done the other night.

  The gentleness of his touch across her clavicle hurled shivers down her spine. His forehead pressed against hers. Hot gasps feathered her mouth before he locked them in another embrace. She parted for the tip of his tongue, sweetness and salt invaded her senses. She could not get enough of the taste, and moaned as he continued to caress her, tilting her for better access.

  Her fingers slid in his hair, over his massive shoulders, and clung to him as if she were drowning. He stroked her chin, her breasts, her hips, and grasped her rear. Attraction and longing stirred like lava in a volcano, building and growing in the last few weeks and now ready to explode.

  He raised her off the floor, hooked her ankles around him, and flattened her on the wall. His stubble tickled her collarbone, and she arched her sex into his thick erection. He groaned in response, settled her on her feet. With slow ease, he sank to his knees and jerked at her shorts, nipping the tops of her thighs. Her head bumped the timber, blinded by the yearning riding her.

  “Chayton…” She gulped when he encircled the cotton covering her centre. He grunted into the little nub, shooting titillating shockwaves through her, and then slow and careful, bit and teased. Need moistened her underwear.

  She loved every second. It seemed he knew her body as personally as his own, understood what made her tick. The air was musky and warm, and she breathed the delicious fragrance of sweat and arousal their bodies created.

  Heady with desire, she hadn’t noticed he carried her to the bedroom. Her legs recaptured his midriff, and she elevated her arms when he removed her shirt.

  Placing her on the bed, he cupped her breast, kissed the puckered tip, then followed with a lash of his tongue before seizing her nipple and sucking. She bowed off the mattress, the sensation firing from her chest to her pelvis. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch, chasing the hurt of the last few days and replacing it with bliss.

  He stared into her eyes. Arrested by the seriousness of his expression, she gave a low sigh. He tugged her underwear, yanked the simple cotton, and she wiggled until they circled her calves, kicking them off.

  She glided her nails along his throat, and flattened her palm on his chest. The harsh thumps of his heart pumped through her hand. She wanted him, more than anything in her life, more than witchcraft, more than family and acceptance.

  He wasn’t what she pictured for a life partner, and they didn’t have much in common, but why they were meant to be made sense.

  Whether their destiny was written in the stars or designed by a power higher than them, she and Chayton happened for a reason. And that reason pulsated within, making itself known with loud clarity. She loved him.

  Resting on her elbows, she slid her tongue across his chest and the strained tendons protruding in his neck. His soft groan vibrated the tip of her tongue. She outlined the muscles of his back to his waist and shoved his boxers off. He laced their hands, stretching both arms above her.

  A forceful knock of his knee parted her thighs, and the swollen head of his penis pushed at her wetness. She moaned at the first thrust. Not painful as last time. In fact, she arched to welcome him deeper into her body.

  He froze, poised above her, and she would have rotated her pelvis, but he took her face, and kissed her. The soft smack of his lips almost made her cry out. Gentle, yet at the same time urgent, like a heartbreaking farewell, as though he’d never get a chance to do this again.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered, hoping to reassure him. His eyes closed tight, but he nodded with understanding.

  This time, their embrace grew feverish when he bit her bottom lip. He rocked into her, and her inner walls clenched. Her body kept pace with his moves, but her heart and mind was what really made love to him.

  Desperately she tried revealing the emotion, not with words, but with a brush of her lips, a soft caress, expressing with actions how she felt inside. The pressure amplified, her sex so hot and wet, she cried her release. No words justified the pleasure.

  A shudder broke free when the sensation rebuilt. He grasped her knee and lifted high; the new position deepened each thrust. She let go a second time, eyes burning.

  Chayton groaned, hips pumping fast and exigent. She clutched his shoulders, ready to come a third time. He bowed, his rigid jaw unlocked a soundless roar, and she let go, falling and at the same time flying. She shut her eyes, revelling in the warmth filling her trembling body.

  After a long moment, he snaked her middle, brought her close, and turned with her on his side. She leaned into his sweat-slick chest. The soft traces he enacted on her bare spine made her eyes droop, and she fell into the blissful darkness of sleep.

  ****

  The heat in the room told him morning had arrived, but he didn’t dare open his eyes, too content with the softness of the naked woman in his arms, and her delicious fruity scent stirring his senses.

  Fear gripped him and he stilled. Had last night been a dream? Was he still dreaming? The soft, naked body beside him shifted, and Chayton squeezed her close.

  “Hey, sleepyhead. I have pins and needles in my arm. Could I please have it back or do we cut it off?”

  Pleased she used their link, he chuckled and opened his eyes. He wished he’d done so sooner. Had he ever seen a more beautiful woman? Amber freed her arm under his and smiled. Golden strands caressed his shoulder, and her lips were pink and swollen. No surprise there, especially after hours of nonstop kissing. “Good morning,” he responded.

  “Just good?” she teased with a raised brow. “I’d say it’s a great morning.”

  He tucked a lock behind her ear. “Should we make it better?”

  “We can try.” She gave him a playful smirk.

  His phone rang from a short distance.

  “Who could that be?” she asked.

  He knew the personalised tone. “My mother’s calling.”

  “Go answer it,” she said, shoving at his chest. “It could be important.”

  He nuzzled beneath her ear. “I’d rather ignore it.”

  Amber kept nudging. “She just returned yesterday. Don’t ignore her calls. Go! I’m being serious.”

  A growl rumbled in his throat and he shot out of the bed. “You owe me.”

  “Nice ass!” she called after him when he sprinted out of the room.

  He smirked, snatched the phone. “Hi, maman.”

  “Hello, Chayton. I’m cooking your favourite today and hoped you and Amber would join us for lunch.”

  He stretched and stifled a yawn. “Sure, what time?”

  “Say, half an hour.”

  “Half an hour? But…” The clock near the kitchen window showed eleven thirty. Ha, and he’d thought it was early morning. “Half an hour sounds fine. See you then.”

  He entered his room, but the bed was empty. Water running snagged his attention, and he raced to the bathroom. The wooden door he had repaired was closed, but unlocked, and he found her in the shower, squeezing shampoo into her palm. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I overheard the conversation.” Her bright blues were apologetic. “If I only have half an hour to get ready, I can’t waste a single minute.”

  His jaw dropped. “Are you saying I’m a waste of your time?”

  “No, sexy.” She scrubbed her hair, building the foam. “I’ll just have to save you for later.”

  “I have a better idea.” He drew the glass door open and stepped inside.

  She paused, hands in her foam-covered head.

  Vibrations strummed through him at the sight of he
r naked body. Pale curves glistened in the shower, soapsuds sliding over her pink puckered nipples.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You wash.” He hauled her against him. “I’ll do all the work.”

  Her sweet laughter echoed, and he muffled the sound with a kiss. Clasping her scalp, he bent her beneath the showerhead, rinsing her hair. “Face the wall,” he instructed.

  Eyes hooded with excitement and carnal lust, she did as told and rotated. He brushed the silky smoothness of her arms, securing both wrists and fixing them to the tiles in front of her.

  For a moment, all he could do was admire the way her spine curved with her breasts flat against the wall. He grasped her soaking hair, and held it above her head. Like a personalised map, the nine freckles decorated her skin.

  She glanced over her shoulder, one cheek to the tiles, and sexy bottom lip caught between her teeth. He groaned, and squeezed her hair. His penis throbbed, the head moistened with eagerness. She looked so good like this, ready for him…only him.

  “Chayton,” she whispered, rocking on her toes, her butt shifting back then forward, teasing him.

  “Yes,” he said, his voice low and guttural. He knew what she begged for, but first, she would scream. He’d make her scream loud and long.

  Sinking to his knees, he cupped her thighs and ran his tongue up her slit from behind. She bellowed with surprise and desire. And loving the sound, and more so, the taste, he thrust deeper, caramel saltiness coating his mouth.

  Heat and steam pounded his back, and he gripped her hips, controlled her trembles while he tasted her most intimate treasure.

  “Take me, Chayton. Don’t make me beg, just do it.”

  Her voice quivered with the words, and he knew she craved him, couldn’t stand another second without feeling him buried to the hilt. He stood to shaky legs, positioned the head at her entrance and stared at the woman looking back at him while up against the wall.

  “Yes, Chayton. Do it.”

  He pounded home, grunting with each thrust. She flattened her forehead and clawed at the tiles as a tremor rocked her onto her toes, and she stiffened and screamed her climax.

  “Amber,” he croaked, nails digging into her flesh. His body tightened and convulsions erupted around his pelvis like fireworks as he emptied his release into his mate.

  ****

  An hour later at his parents’ house, he grinned at Amber across the dinner table. Images of last night occupied his mind, mixing with new ones from earlier in the shower. He couldn’t wait to go home so they could be together.

  She laughed at something his father said, and Chayton chuckled, too. Even though he had no idea what the story had been about. He should pay attention, before he made his ogling obvious.

  “Would you like some more, Amber?” his mother asked, holding out a dish of quiche.

  Amber placed the fork next to her plate and smiled. “No, thank you. Everything was delicious, but if I don’t stop eating, I think I might explode.”

  His father grinned. “I’m surprised you finished two plates without exploding already.”

  Amber saluted her glass and shrugged. “I must have one of those appetites today.” She gazed at him, and he snorted at the secret meaning.

  “If we were alone right now, I’d build your appetite again.”

  She coughed, lowering the glass.

  His mother patted her back.

  “Excuse me,” Amber apologised. “It went down the wrong way.” She spared him a playful glower. “Behave.”

  “Check out that smile, Len.” His mother beamed. “I can’t remember seeing you so happy, Chayton.”

  “Maman, please.” Things were going so well, why did they have to start embarrassing him now? They better not bring out the baby albums.

  Did she find his parents and their affection strange, since her own only cared about themselves? By the thrilling rapture seeping from her, he wouldn’t say so. Her features brightened when his parents spoke to her with real interest as though they valued her opinion.

  At first she’d seemed a bit stunned by the jokes and laughter at the table, probably so accustomed to silence with her own family, but she was quick to unwind and join in on the clowning.

  Respect shone in her eyes whenever she regarded Len and Rosabel, and he guessed with each minute that passed, she fell in love with them.

  “I’m being serious,” Rosabel added. “In fact, the last time I saw that smile was the day you bought those Air Jordans…” Her words waned, and her gaze quickly strayed to the table. “I’m sorry.”

  Chayton swallowed. “Maman, it’s okay.”

  Tears glazed her eyes. “You’re getting everything you’ve always wanted. You’ve been through so much, mon fils, endured more than most men can ever imagine. Remembering that day seven years ago…oh.” Her fingers hovered over her mouth.

  “Maman.” He leaned forward and covered her hand with his.

  Her throat bobbed and she exhaled. “I’m okay. I was just going to say, I hope you never see your own children in that condition.” She shot out of her seat, and placed her napkin on the table. “Excuse me.”

  His father spared them a weak smile. “Don’t worry. Your mother is still emotional from the loss of her brother,” he said, then followed her out of the room.

  “I understand,” Chayton said.

  Amber did not. Her furrowed brow displayed her concern and confusion.

  He cleared the table, and Amber helped. After they washed the dishes, they said goodbye and headed home. The memory stormed forth of his mother screaming and crying when he lay in hospital.

  Not too long ago, Amber told him she’d acted the way she had in high school because she felt accepted. He understood. She was valued for the first time in her life, but her cruel ways had almost destroyed his family. Seven years might have passed, but can he forget…or even forgive?

  “You’re quiet,” she said into the silence.

  “Just thinking,” he murmured.

  “What did your mother mean about you’ve been through so much?”

  He expected this, first the curiosity, then the questions. But, he had to ask himself, could he bring up the past? The hateful emotions stirred, ready to detonate from the notion and left a bitter taste which diminished the new feelings for the woman beside him.

  Maybe he should come clean, see if she’d show any ounce of remorse for what she did. “They were referring to the time I was in the hospital.” The words released before he could rationalise his decision. A dead silence followed.

  “Why were you in the hospital?”

  He didn’t dare glance her way, but sensed her flaming blues on him. Clutching the steering wheel, he focussed on the dirt road and the graffiti-covered signs ahead. “You don’t remember? Or are you refusing to acknowledge your part?”

  “What are you talking—”

  “I haven’t told my parents who you are.” He cut her off. “And after how my mother acted, I don’t think I ever can.”

  “You mean you haven’t told them I was the bully who picked on you in school.” Her voice was low, sad, and he did not mistake the guilt that seeped from her tone.

  “The bullying won’t upset them the most. It’s the other thing, the reason I had to leave that school.”

  “What other thing?”

  Cheeks hot with fury, he twisted to look at her. “How can you pretend not to know what you did?”

  She gaped. “Because I don’t.”

  He snorted, skidding up the driveway and into his usual spot. The car door almost knocked off its hinges when he threw it open and jumped out. He made for the house. Her shoes crunching the dirt path resonated behind him. “You sent those guys after me,” he threw over his shoulder. Fire, or something just as hot seared his veins. “You did it. I know you did.”

  “Chayton, please.” She cried now. He entered the cottage, and whirled around. Tears streaked her cheeks, and he waited to experience her pain, but nothing other than the anger boili
ng within was present. He frowned. Did that mean she faked her tears to appear remorseful, or was his rage too great to endure any other emotion?

  How dare she stand there and not take responsibility for her actions. Fine, he’d travel down memory lane. “I saw you, the day in the library. You were crouched in a corner. I don’t think you were expecting someone to walk past, least of all, me.” A fake laugh bubbled in his throat. “But where else would a fifteen year old geek be during lunch, right?”

  “Chayton—”

  He paced in front of her. “I had experienced the strangest sensation. I should’ve kept walking, but my feet wouldn’t move. I didn’t just want to comfort you, I needed to. When I asked if you were all right, you sneered and told me to get lost. Then your boyfriend at the time, Dominic, charged into the library saying he’d been searching everywhere for you. He saw your tears and asked if I harassed you. You told him yes.”

  He clenched his fists by his side, and stopped in front of her. “Is it coming back yet?” he shouted.

  Her response was more tears, so he continued. “Later, you approached me and said if I told anyone what I saw, I’d regret it. That afternoon I told Stacy by the lockers, and then saw you watching us across the hall.”

  “Now that you’ve mentioned it, I remember the library,” she cried. “I do, but I don’t remember threatening you—”

  “Oh, how convenient. You remember what you want to remember. Should you tell me what happened next, or should I continue?”

  He paused, but all she did was bite her bottom lip. “I walked home that afternoon, unaware Dominic and some older guys followed me. Let me get to the good part; they beat me up, left me on the side of the road with broken bones and internal bleeding.”

  Her face paled, eyes wide.

  He threw up his arms. “To me that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst was when they stole the sneakers I worked my fucking ass off for.” He shook his head. “Stupid, I know. But after that day I regretted laying eyes on you.”

  She shuffled forward, hand extended. He ducked from the touch. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

  “I wouldn’t have told them to go after you,” she said. “I couldn’t have.” That added part was followed by another sob.