“What are you saying, Hazel?” His voice is low and gravelly. Rain starts to pelt the roof and windows.
I take a slow step closer, then another, then another until I’m right in front of him. The sexy, low beat of the music, mixed with the rhythm of the pouring rain, emphasizes every stride. “I’m saying you were right about one thing.” I flick my eyes down his body. “There is one part of our relationship that we’ve always been good at.” I finally gain the courage to look into his eyes, even though I’m terrified he really wants nothing to do with me anymore. Thankfully I see lust, mixed with a hint of amusement.
“And you’re cool with just being fuck buddies?”
The harshness of hearing the words out loud makes me cringe, but what did I really expect?
I suddenly want to tell him the truth . . . that I want so much more with him; that I’m so sorry I ever hurt him and that I would never let it happen again. I’ve spent so much of my life hiding things that part of me wants a chance to break free from all the secrets.
But my mother’s voice rings in my head: Just remember, a leopard doesn’t change its spots.
After the way I treated Tristan, he has every right to not trust me. I don’t even know if I can trust myself. But there is something deep in my gut that screams at me to hold onto the only piece of us that might work, even if it’s just physical, so I simply nod in agreement before meeting his lips in a hard, hungry kiss.
I grip his shoulders as his hands find my hips. He lets me taste him for one delicious minute before pulling back. “You know I hate you,” he says. Lightning flashes brightly, lighting up his face long enough for me to see the fire in his eyes.
I push my lips back against his and whisper, “You can hate me, as long as you’re inside me.”
The real truth is that I need Tristan like I need air, and right now I’m willing to do anything to be able to breathe.
As we kiss he walks backward, leading me to the couch, his strong arms wrapped tightly around my waist. I resist his hold and push his chest roughly so he falls back on the cushioned seat. I climb on his lap to straddle him, my dress rising up my thighs.
I rush to pull his shirt over his head, needing the heat of his skin on mine. As my hands travel down his toned arms they skim over a bold tattoo on his left bicep, and patches of smooth and jagged skin on his right. I pause when I feel the tender skin, remembering that I used to trace these same scars so many years ago. I never asked what happened but I know it has something to do with his mother. The sadness I feel makes me shudder. There is still so much about this man I don’t know.
The scrape of Tristan’s teeth on my neck as he arches me back makes me cry out wildly, my voice mingling with the sound of thunder. His callused hands dig sharply into my ribs and I drag my fingers through his hair, grabbing the ends. It’s like all the pain from our entire lives comes storming to the surface and the only way we know how to deal with it is to take it out on each other.
I push.
He pushes harder.
He moans.
I moan louder.
But every ounce of physical pain we deliver is matched by an equal amount of faith. Faith that this will somehow fix us.
He yanks my dress over my head before tearing my underwear from my body. He looks like he’s ready to devour me whole.
God, I’ll let him.
He lifts us off the couch and flattens my back on the smooth wooden coffee table. Within seconds he lowers his pants, just enough to free his thick, hard cock. He pulls a foil packet from his pocket, tears it open with his teeth, and rolls it down his length.
I don’t even have time to fully process this before I feel his weight on me and he’s thrusting inside my wet and ready core. I dig my nails into his back, causing him to growl as he pounds into me faster. It only takes a few seconds before I’m careening over the edge, crying out, but still he refuses to slow down.
“You like feeling me inside you, Hazel?” Tristan grits from behind clenched teeth. “You like it when I make you scream?”
I mumble something that sounds like “Mmmmfuckyyyeesssss,” as I rake my right hand up his back to his short, dark hair. I let my fingers massage gently before tugging roughly.
His head falls back and I use the opportunity to gain leverage. Still grabbing his hair with my right hand, I use my left to shove his chest so we fall back on the couch. His mouth finds my breast as I settle my knees on either side of him, his tongue swirling around my nipple before gently biting it.
He drives his dick back up inside me and I press my pelvis down to create more friction. I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him tightly to my chest as I move my hips and feel every inch of him fill me to the point of breaking.
It’s painful in the most beautiful way.
For the next hour we fuck hard and we fuck fast and we fuck all over my apartment until neither of us has any fight left.
Yes, Tristan Sharp can hate me, but I’m going to make sure he loves every second of it.
Tristan
After I regain feeling in my body, I look over to Hazel. By the way her breathing has slowed to a steady pace, I know she’s fallen asleep. She’s lying on the bed face down, her back bare with the sheets draped over her lower half. Her hair is splayed across the pillow. Tattoos litter her shoulders, back, and upper arms.
For someone who looks so tough, she sure seems vulnerable when she’s naked.
When we’re together it’s almost like nothing’s changed between us, but there’s also something different about her—something sad. It makes me feel like an asshole, even though she’s the one who seduced me tonight. Not that I was about to complain. Sure, being around her tends to mess with my head, but since we made it crystal clear that what we’re doing is just fucking, at least it’s honest. Hell, maybe it will even help relieve some of my pent-up anger toward her. If Hazel Blake wants to use me for sex, I’m more than willing to do the same.
I pull on my pants and get up to take a leak. I find a small bathroom connected to the bedroom and take care of business. As I’m washing up I notice a shampoo bottle on the edge of the tub. I pick it up and look at the label: citrus mint. I inhale a deep whiff and yup, that’s definitely Hazel. Mint. Go figure.
I walk back out to the bedroom and in the light coming from the bathroom I finally notice the room. I was a little preoccupied throwing Hazel down and screwing her senseless when I first came in.
The queen bed, where Hazel is still out cold, is in the far corner. My attention is drawn to the white walls, where a bunch of black-and-white photographs are taped up in some type of collage. Hazel took up photography after high school, but it’s just one of the many reminders of a past I wish I could forget.
My curiosity gets the better of me, though, so I lean in closer. I recognize a few of the pictures from when Hazel was younger. Some of her as a little girl, some of her and Ryan, and even a few of us from high school. I study each photo and thank fuck there are none of Dougie. If there were, I’d probably put my fist through the wall.
Amidst the older snapshots are a bunch of newer photos that all have a similar, artistic style to them. One is of a rose, and at first glance it seems to be a simple flower, but when you look closer you can see the petals’ edges are torn and withered. Another is a close-up of a sidewalk with weeds and roots growing up through the cracks. There is also a series of self-portraits, where Hazel seems to be holding the camera herself, trying out different angles that capture only a small piece of her at a time. An eye, her hand, a shoulder. I don’t know much about art or photography, but it’s the imperfection of each image that makes them interesting. They’re real and unfiltered, which is unusual since most people I know are more interested in pretending they’re perfect.
Something about seeing these makes me feel weird. Privileged, almost. Like I’m getting some secret glimpse into the real Hazel. I shake the feeling off, remembering there’s no point in wanting or trying to get to know her. I did that once before, onl
y to have it thrown in my face. We come from different worlds and want different things, and no matter what she does or says, that won’t change. I never knew the real Hazel, nor do I have any interest in once again making the mistake of thinking I do. I just need to treat her like I would any other girl I’m fucking—keep things fun and friendly—and walk away when I’m finished. No opening up, no expectations, and certainly no commitment. Done deal.
I see a Polaroid camera sitting on the desk and pick it up. I look at Hazel, whose body is cast in the glow from the bathroom light. She looks so peaceful and so innocent that I lift the camera to my eye, focus on her face, and push the button. A second later a square of film pops out the bottom.
I place the camera back on the desk and grab a pen, scribble a quick note across the bottom of the photo and place it on the pillow beside Hazel. Then I grab the rest of my clothes and let myself out.
You’re beautiful after we “talk.” Call me if you want to do it again sometime.
The next night I find myself standing next to Logan at the DSGN party, but for the first time ever I have no real interest in being here. I’ve instead been more interested in checking my phone constantly, hoping like some sort of deprived sex junkie that my next “talk” with Hazel will be sooner rather than later. Hey, if she’s offering me only her body, without any of the other bullshit relationship stuff, I’d be an idiot not to accept. I may not want to be friends, but I sure could get used to the fucking part. And once I’ve had my fill I can forget her for good.
I look up and see Lucas arrive.
I expect to see Kinsley with him. What I don’t expect is to see Kinsley and Hazel.
“What’s up?” Lucas greets Logan and me while I try to keep my excitement in my pants.
“Didn’t know you were coming, Zee.” Logan smiles at Hazel. She’s looking particularly fuckable in a tight black dress and matching high heels.
“Kinsley invited me this afternoon, so I figured why not come and see what all the fuss is about.” Her eyes dart to me before settling back on my brother. “I hope that’s OK.”
Kinsley pipes up, “Since Kelley’s been busy growing that tiny human of hers I’ve missed having a partner in crime. I needed somebody to help deal with you three.” She laughs, looking hot in a yellow strapless dress, with her hair pulled back. Lucas is a lucky man, that’s for sure.
Yes, think about Kinsley. Think about anything other than how much you want to be buried inside Hazel again.
I clear my throat, pulling myself together. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Kins, but wasn’t it the last DSGN party where we first met?” I raise my eyebrows and pat Lucas on the shoulder. “If it wasn’t for this over-possessive Neanderthal maybe you’d be here on my arm instead of his.” Everyone laughs, but by the way Lucas edges closer to Kinsley and wraps his arm around her waist, I know the thought rattles him. You’d think messing with him would get old, but it really doesn’t.
“We better go find Eric,” Lucas says to Logan, talking about the CEO of DSGN.
“Oh I’d love to say hi, too,” Kinsley adds. She turns to Hazel, “Will you be OK by yourself for a little bit?” To me she says, “I’m sure Tristan will keep you company until I get back.”
“I think we’ll manage to find a way to occupy ourselves.” I resist the urge to fist pump and smile as innocently as possible while the rest of the group leaves.
As soon as they are out of earshot Hazel glares at me. “What the hell are you doing? You want everyone to know we’re . . . that we . . .”
She struggles to find the words, and I have to admit I find it adorably amusing. I give her another few seconds to flounder before offering, “Fucked?”
She points at me with the small black purse she’s gripping. “Exactly.”
“Listen, do you really think I want to chance Ryan finding out about us by telling everyone? Dude already has it out for me.”
Hazel smiles mischievously. “So you think there is some kind of us?”
“An us that fucks occasionally.” I grin.
“Right. So we’re in agreement to keep this quiet?”
“Agreed.”
“Should we shake on it or something?” Hazel laughs.
“I have a better idea.”
I grab Hazel’s hand and pull her through the crowded room. We head out of the main space and find a secluded spot at the end of the hall that’s hidden behind the curtains separating the caterer’s workspace. It’s a tight, narrow spot nestled between the curtain and a wall, but it will get the job done.
As soon as we’re out of sight I grab Hazel by the neck, kissing her roughly while simultaneously pushing her against the wall. She moans into my mouth, dropping her purse to the floor. It’s been less than 24 hours since I’ve touched her, but man, I’m like a dog with a friggin’ bone.
She pulls her face back and her fingers move to the small buttons on my white shirt. She takes her time undoing each one, clearly trying to torture me.
When she’s finally finished I reach for the hem of her dress and pull it up just past her hips before helping her as she struggles with the zipper on my pants. She’s trying to play it cool, but I can tell she’s worked up. Maybe even more than I am. Suddenly I want her to beg for me.
I grab her hands and hold them above her head against the wall. I move my mouth close to hers but don’t let our lips touch. She tries to extend her lower half to rub against mine. I remain just close enough that she can feel my dominance, but refuse to give her what she craves.
I look into her eyes, silently challenging us both. It’s an unspoken test to see who will give in first. She holds my stare for a few moments before squeezing her eyes shut and throwing her head back in defeat.
I win.
I can’t help but get a thrill out of how much this girl wants me. Call me a vindictive prick, but after spending time feeling worthless and empty when she rejected me all those years ago, hearing her beg for me on a pleasured moan over and over is like the sickest form of revenge. Hazel Blake is the kind of girl that will kiss you until it hurts and I’ll be damned if I let her have the chance.
Not sure how long I can withstand my own torment, with expert efficiency I grab a condom from my pocket and roll it on. I grab her ass and grind her lower back into the wall for support. I position myself at her entrance, rubbing the head of my dick against her clit. Her breath hitches as I tease us both. I slip the tip of my dick inside the tight opening of her pussy, then pull out. She makes a frustrated sound in the back of her throat.
I push back in a little deeper, then retreat. More frustrated sounds.
Her eyes lock on mine and I hold my throbbing cock right up against her. We stand there for a beat, challenging each other once again, before I drive into her with such a satisfying thrust that we both moan in relief.
Hazel’s hands grip my shoulders like a vice as I pound into her, no longer holding back. Each stroke gets faster and goes deeper. I sure hope the caterers don’t decide now is a good time to clean up, because I’m not stopping even if they do.
Her right leg wraps around my back and I can feel the blunt spike of her heel digging into my flesh. Her left leg remains on the floor and she uses it as leverage to buck her hips wildly against mine, meeting each of my thrusts with her own. I can’t tell who is in control. At this exact moment I’m not sure I even care.
I allow my mouth to explore her neck, needing to taste some part of her skin. She stifles another moan and I know she’s getting close. I slow my pace just enough to really draw out her undoing. I want her to come apart, and I want her to know it’s because of me.
She buries her face in my shoulder and I feel her teeth leave marks as she gives herself over to me completely.
Only when I know she’s finished riding the satisfying wave of ecstasy do I allow myself to follow, spasming with the intensity of feeling her tight wetness pulse around me. She opens her eyes and looks into mine, gently biting her lip.
I reach into my pocket for a ha
ndkerchief to clean myself up. I pull up my pants and Hazel pulls her dress down. She looks tousled and spent in the most satisfying way possible, and the sick part of me once again revels in the fact that I have that effect on her. She certainly fucks with my head, so it’s only fair I return the favor.
I kneel down to pick up her purse with one hand, dragging the fingers of the other slowly up her leg. She sucks in a breath as I stop right between her thighs, then hand her purse over. “You head back in and I’ll follow in a minute.”
She takes her purse in one hand and smoothes her hair with the other. Before she leaves she turns back and says, “Remember, we can’t tell anyone about this.”
“Some of the best moments are the ones you can’t tell anyone about.” I wink and she blushes in the sexiest, most mischievous way before leaving.
When I’m alone, suddenly winning doesn’t seem nearly as gratifying. As much as I might affect Hazel, she still does the same goddamn thing to me. No matter how much I try to make her suffer, she serves it right back.
I hate that. But apparently, not enough to stop.
I rest my head back against the wall. As I button up my shirt I try to figure out how the hell I got myself into this situation. I can only pray I know what the fuck I’m doing.
Hazel
Eleven years ago
“Come on, Hazel, just try it. I promise it makes everything better. You’ll like it.”
I stare at the rolled-up bill in Dougie’s outstretched hand before reaching out to accept it.
I lower my head to look at the white powder lined up on the mirror. I can see my eyes reflected back above it. I look scared. I feel scared.
I also feel sad and angry and hurt and invisible and lost, and I don’t want to anymore. I don’t want to feel anything. It’s too much. I can’t breathe.
I bring the paper tube to my nose, lean over, and inhale deeply.
My nose burns, along with the back of my throat, so I squeeze my eyes shut. I hear Dougie say it will get better, so I clench my teeth and wait.
Sick Pleasure (Crazy Beautiful Book 3) Page 7
