Page 10 of He Hate Me

She shakes her head, grinding her pussy on my knuckles. She loosens up just a hair and I’m able to get two fingers in to the second joint. It’s ridiculous. Her pussy is drooling, but nearly impossible to get inside.

With a firm grasp, I pull one of her nipples sharply away from her body. She lets out a soft mewl of pleasure and begins to play with her other breast. My hand moves experimentally, twisting and tugging at her sensitive nipple, eliciting even more moans from her. Encouraged by her response, I jam my fingers into her wetness, and she shudders. That response is everything I’ve ever dreamed of. My roughness giving her pleasure is like fuel on the fire of my lust. I’ve always held back with girls because as soon as I start doing the things I like, they get mad and want to stop. What if I don’t have to do that with Deja? We’ve barely scratched the surface, but just the possibility makes my balls throb.

I have to get her off before I embarrass myself and come all over the floor. My mouth latches onto her clit, sucking and licking as my fingers hammer into her. Her legs close around my head, muffling the sound of her cries. She digs her hands into my hair, nails scoring my scalp as she grinds her pussy into my face. I suck even harder. Her heels dig into my back, and her back arches as she comes shuddering like a leaf. I ease up, but I continue licking her gently until she pushes me away, her cheeks wet.

She gives me a sleepy smile before closing her eyes. She’s drifting off, satisfied, but I’m still hard as a rock. That’s not a problem. I almost stop the recording, but then I have another idea. With one hand I pick up the phone and aim it at her body. The other frees my dick and strokes it from root to tip. It only takes a few pumps of my dick to get me to the edge. The first shot of hot come hits her in the middle of her chest, oozing down towards her collarbone. The next splashes onto her breast, dripping off of her pretty nipple like donut glaze. Then I aim for her stomach, coating it with my essence before finally reaching the thatch of hair at the top of her mound.

“Fuck,” I moan as the last spurt lands on her thigh. My legs feel like jelly. I want to sink down next to her and pass out too, but I can’t do that, can I?

I pan the camera one last time over her come splattered body, then turn it off. The sight is both erotic and satisfying, like a stamp of ownership, however temporary. She may not know it, but as far as I'm concerned, she's now mine. I think I’ll take my time in claiming her fully, though; savor the experience.

I go to her ensuite and soak a washcloth in warm water. I meticulously wipe down every inch of her so well you’d never know how thoroughly I despoiled her if I didn’t have the photographic evidence. I poke through her drawers and find an oversized T-shirt I’ve seen her wear before as pajamas. The whole time, she’s as floppy as a sex doll. I’ve got to find out what that stuff was she took so I can avoid it like the plague. I could do anything I wanted to her right now—it’s sick.

Once I've tucked her in, I turn out the lamp.

“Sweet dreams, princess,” I whisper before slipping out the door.

Five

Deja

The first thing I notice when I wake up is how relaxed I feel. I’m warm and loose and comfortable in a way I usually never am in the mornings, but then I quickly notice something else. There’s an unfamiliar soreness between my legs, not pain, but more a sensitivity. And then everything comes back. Brandon’s mouth on me, the sting and pleasure of him twisting my nipples, the way I begged him to touch me like I had no shame at all.

I groan and cover my face with my hands. What was I thinking? Of all the people in the world, it had to be him? Brandon, who called me a hood rat to my face and told me he’d never want me. Well, that was a lie, obviously. I can still see the way he looked at me—his body tense, his jaw clenched, his dick hard enough to cut glass. And it was big. I remember that too.

I’ve never done anything like that before. I’ve fooled around, yeah—Jayden and I used to mess around when we were together—but it never felt like this. Jayden was gentle. Patient. He never pushed for more than I was ready to give, and honestly, that was part of why I liked him. But I never wanted him the way I wanted Brandon. I never felt that heat in my chest or that throb between my thighs that made me forget to care about the consequences.

And that’s what messes with my head the most. I don’t even like Brandon. He’s cruel and toxic and tries to make me feel small on purpose—but when he touched me, I wanted more. Even now, thinking about it, that same sensation stirs deep inside me. I want to bury it, pretend last night didn’t happen, but my body won’t let me forget. It remembers exactly what it felt like to be with him.

How am I supposed to face him now?

I force myself out of bed, and get dressed for my run. If I lie here any longer, I’ll start thinking too much. In any case, I know better than to wallow. When you’re feeling off—you get up early, work hard, and get your head right. So, I lace up my shoes to go on my usual Sunday morning run, determined to restore some kind of order.

But then, as I’m heading downstairs, I discover a text on my phone from Brandon. It has the caption “More where this came from,” with a picture attached. In it I’m making the ahegao face—eyes crossed, tongue out, full commitment—and I’m winking. Like I’m auditioning for some kind of OnlyFans meme compilation. What the fuck? I mean, I didn’t expect him to pretend like last night never happened, but this feels like he’s taunting me.

When I get back from my run, I find my parents eating cereal and Brandon in the kitchen making a smoothie. I have to wait for my turn, so I’m just standing around waiting for him to finish because I don’t want to get sweat on the dining chairs. Like me, he’s wearing workout clothes, his toned arms and lower legs bare. I scan him up and down, the large hands, the hint of a shadow on his jaw, the thick, shiny black hair. What is it about this boy that made me react so strongly to him last night? Was it his good looks or the brutal way he touched me. He catches me staring and winks, a smug smile hovering on his lips, his pale blue eyes bright. Discreetly, so the parents don’t see, I give him the finger, which only seems to amuse him more.

“It’s already 9:15, Deja,” my mom says. “You should take a shower now if you don’t want to be late for church.”

It’s fine. I don’t get my usual protein shake before church. I make do with a banana. It’s no big deal. I’m not as anal as Brandon about my schedule being disrupted. I swear I’m not. I’m just irritable because instead of sitting with my parents where he sat the last few weeks, he’s put himself in the same pew as me and my friends. Even more annoying, Mackenzie is actually talking to him, even though she knows how I feel about him. I told her that he just got out of juvie, but that only made him more attractive to her. I’m not sure he ever went to juvie, to be honest. I heard a rumor, but nothing solid.

I shoot him a dirty look that I don’t try to hide from the girls, but a few seconds later my phone vibrates and when I sneak a look it’s a picture of us sitting on the bench last night. We look very cozy and my heart thunders at the thought of anyone seeing us like that. I can’t even come up with a plausible excuse for why I’d be looking at him like that, not even one that would fly with people who know how fucked up I was. I close the text, but not before Shelby gets a quick look at it.

“Is that you and Gio?” she whispers. She’s trying to sound like she doesn’t care, but I can see the hurt in her eyes. We haven’t talked about it, and she knows Gio and I are talking, but I think she’s still holding out hope he’ll notice her. I think quickly. If I say it’s Gio, Shelby’s feelings will be hurt. But if I don’t say it’s Gio, then I’ll have to explain who I’m in the picture with. Before I can think of an answer, the pastor tells everyone to stand and by the time we’re done singing that hymn, Shelby’s not focused on the picture anymore.

After service we congregate in the fellowship hall. Shelby has to go get her little brother from childcare, and I see that Mackenzie and Brandon are STILL talking. What the hell? I step right into the middle of that and say,

“Can you go check if they have any hot chocolate, Kenz? I gotta talk to Brandon about something.”

She looks at me in confusion, but none of these girls are going to gainsay me without good cause.

“You need to stay away from my friends,” I hiss in a low voice. He smirks at me, his blue eyes twinkling in amusement.

“Or what?” he asks. “Mackenzie and I have a lot of catching up to do. I just found out she’s a math tutor. Did you know that?”

“What do you mean ‘catching up?’”

“Kenz and I were best buds back in pre-school. I’d say small world, but this is where I grew up, isn’t it. This is the church where I learned to say the Lord’s Prayer. My mom used to be in the choir.”