Misted (Team Zero #5) by Rina Kent

Tears sting my eyes at the angry onslaught of his words, and I hang my head, still feeling the pain he did all those years ago. He doesn’t understand. He’ll never fucking understand.

Harsh fingers grip my chin and tilt my head up so I’m staring at his merciless, vengeful gaze. “Tell me why. I have the right to know fucking why.”

I shake my head in his bruising grip. The lies tumble from my mouth easily after so much practice. “I was just done with you, Hawk. That’s all.”

A deep-throated growl leaves his lips and the flash of pain on his face slashes my chest open. The look disappears as soon as it appeared and his features tighten with simmering rage. I can do hate and handle all his anger. It’s his pain that kills me alive.

He spins me around and slams my cheek against the table. I don’t fight. Not even when he yanks my dress up my waist and slides my knickers down my legs. I even step out of them willingly.

The wound in my arm burns and the table’s wood digs into my hips. A bruise could be already forming.

I hate how I tingle with thrill and excitement. Apparently, my body hasn’t got the memo that he’s angry at me and this isn’t the reunion I’ve been wishing for.

But does it care? Judging from the wet heat pooling between my thighs, not in the least.

Slap.

I gasp at the sting of his hand against my arse. The shock shoots straight to my pulsating core. My nipples harden like two diamonds and throb against the table. I hate how much this side of him turns me on and how much I have no control over it.

Slap!

I suck in a stuttering breath, both of my hands gripping the table with sweaty, shaky fingers. If I was wet earlier, I’m soaking now.

“I can’t.” Slap. “Even.” Slap. “Look.” Slap. “At.” Slap. “You.”

A sob tears from my throat. His raw force draws a violent reaction from my wanton body while his hate strips me bare with no intention of putting me back together again. The slaps aren’t painful, but his words undo the wire knots around my heart and draw a black hole that keeps getting bigger with the distance that grew between us. I can feel myself disintegrating against the table’s cold wood.

His fingers thread into my hair, releasing the pins. Red strands fall on my face, camouflaging my blurry vision. I smile with bitterness. He never liked my hair tied and it’s for that exact reason I never wore it down since that day. For some reason, I wanted something to always belong to him.

Hot breaths tickle the side of my neck before he drags his tongue along the shell of my ear. My eyes flutter closed as a zap of pleasure coils straight to my toes. He flicks his tongue along the flesh of my ear and continues the assault, biting, sucking and tongue-fucking my ear as if it’s my needy core.

“Hawk… Oh, God… that… feels… oh…” Words die in my throat the more he tortures me. I’m ready to beg and plead for more. My intimate muscles keep clenching on nothing but void, and it’s driving me fucking insane and delirious.

A zipper sounds from behind me. I hold my breath, bracing myself against the table. My nails dig into the wood and my legs fall open the slightest bit.

“Tell me to stop.” He rasps near my assaulted, sensitive ear with one hand threading in my hair. His other hand roughly massages the sting in my arse cheek.

I steal a glimpse behind me, and what I see almost throws me in a heap on the floor. Hawk watches me with a mixture of undecipherable emotions hardening his face. Although I can’t read them all, I can recognise the deep longing that’s so similar to mine. Fresh tears stream down my cheeks at the tiny bit of connection.

He strokes the length of his hard, thick cock up and down with an almost angry rhythm. My lips tremble as the cool tip covered with pre-cum touches my overly-stimulated folds. A tremor weakens my legs and a ferocious, primal need coils in my body.

I cease to think or even breathe. Every particle of my body is attuned to the part where we’re almost joined.

“Go ahead, say it.” His deep rumble floats around and inside me.

“S-say what?” I feel as stupid as my question.

“This is your only chance to stop me because this time…” he leans over to my ear, bites it then rasps. “I’m not holding back, Hellion.”

My lips open then clamp shut. I know there’s a logical reason somewhere about why we shouldn’t do this, but that’s not important right now.

One more time.

I just need one more time.

“Fuck me, Haw—”

His name isn’t completely out before he slams into me in one harsh, unyielding go. It’s like being stretched open from the inside out. My mouth falls in a wordless cry and I can’t even gasp for breath.

Oh. God.

“Fuck, Hellion.” His husky voice lowers as he stands there unmoving. Waiting for what, I don’t know.

No way.

Is he waiting for me to adjust? He always did that before, but I didn’t need to since he held back. The fact that he’s giving me a few seconds to catch my breath causes different types of emotions to flicker through me.

I miss him. So, so much.

Even now, I don’t want him to hold back. I wiggle against him, opening my legs more to give him better access.

A dark, but amused chuckle rips from his throat. “Is that impatience, Hellion?”

He’s taunting me, but instead of shame, a wave of blinding jealousy hits me. He never used to talk during sex, so what changed him? How many women has he fucked since me? How many heard that sinful as hell husky voice? How many has he… loved?