If You Hate Me (The Toronto Terror Series)

It’s been two days since I stole Beat’s vibrator. I thought I was going to lose my fucking mind listening to her moaning and writhing above me. But stealing it didn’t make things better. The thing was covered in her pussy juice. It was all over my hand. I may have used my pillowcase to clean it off. And huffed it while I slept.

I have a problem. And her name is Beatrix.

I can hear her in the kitchen. It’s after nine. I’ve been up for an hour. Flip is at some endorsement thing Hemi forced on him to help bolster his reputation. She wanted me to come too, but I told her my brother had a game. Flip’s bad reputation is not my issue to solve.

I feel shitty that I used my brother in a lie, but I’ve been off the bunny circuit since Hemi reamed us out. Besides, I don’t want Beat listening to what happens in my damn bedroom. Her being here has allowed me a slight reprieve from all the performing. So I guess it isn’t all bad. Plus, she makes kickass food, and she’s exceptionally organized, helpful, and generally sweet when she isn’t dealing with me.

I listen to Beat move around, wondering what she’s making. Probably something delicious. I’d bet my left nut she’s not wearing a bra. Maybe she’ll be wearing those tiny sleep shorts. Or that nightshirt from two nights ago that barely covers her ass.

I should definitely not leave my bedroom to find out. I roll over and shove my face into my pillow.

The smell is fading, but I breathe deep anyway.

I’m such a sick fuck.

And I’m pissed off.

As nice as it’s been to have a clean house, amazing meals, and an incredible financial planner around, I need her to move out.

I need her out of my space and my head.

I need…to stop thinking about her in ways that will screw everything up.

I roll onto my back. She’s humming a tune. She can sing. It’s another item on the list of things about her that frustrates me. I roll out of bed, feet hitting the floor with a thud. I stalk across my room, already unreasonably angry. Mostly at myself. I grab the doorknob and fight not to open it. But I yank the door open with so much force it dents the drywall.

She startles but doesn’t turn around, which irritates me more. If she’s not ignoring me, she’s taking shots at me. I don’t want her here, and I’m uncomfortably aware of her at all times. There’s no happy medium with us.

She’s wearing my favorite sleep shorts again. And a tank top. No bra lines, as predicted. She’s all curves and softness. Her hair is pulled up in a ponytail. I don’t know why the graceful slope of her neck is so alluring, but I want to wrap my hands around it and feel her pulse thrum under my palms. I want to hear her make those desperate, needy sounds again, but for me this time.

Yeah. I’m so fucked.

I should have gone out last night and gotten laid.

I should have brought someone home and fucked them while she was trying to sleep above me.

I should have, but I couldn’t.

Just another item to add to the piss-me-off list.

I stalk across the kitchen and yank open the drawer two inches from her right hip. I grab a spatula and a mixing bowl and slap them on the counter beside her. Then I open the drawer to her left and grab a fork. She’s made a tray of bacon, there’s a platter of cut fruit, blueberry muffins fresh from the oven—my fucking favorite—and she’s busy making some kind of yogurt thing, probably to dip the fruit in. Everything she makes tastes amazing and is balanced and healthy.

She keeps everything in top form around here, she continually asks if we need anything. I’m always an asshole. I don’t want to get used to having her around. Or worse, like having her here. So I say something shitty, and she dishes it right back. Like she’s on to me. Because she is.

I’m in a fury trying to make some eggs. Something to take care of myself and not indulge in whatever she’s made. Even I don’t understand what I’m doing as I get closer and closer to her. I keep reaching around her. My erection nudges her ass when I get too close.

Everything feels out of control. Like a play gone wrong and I can’t recover. I’m pissed. At Flip. At Hollis. At Beat. At those perfect little shorts.

She spins around, her ponytail slapping me in the chest. I want to wrap it around my fist and kiss a path up her throat to her mouth. No, no, no. That can’t happen. Then she isn’t just a problem, she’s my problem. But even as I think it, my eyes drop to her pouty lips. My frayed self-control is about to snap.

“What the hell are you doing?” She tips her chin up, defiant, eyes wild and stormy. “Can you back the fuck o⁠—”

I cup her face in my palms and slant my mouth over hers, cutting off the angry shit coming out of her. I’m right. Her lips are soft and pliant, a stark contrast to the cutting words we stab each other with all the time. She makes a shocked sound as I stroke inside. Her hands wrap around my wrists, and her nails dig into my skin. I fully expect her to shove me away and possibly slap me across my idiot face. She should. But she doesn’t. Instead, she presses her hips into mine and shoves at my tongue with hers, fighting her way inside my mouth.

I’d kissed her half hoping this raging chemistry was a lie, that this attraction I feel is some strange response to how irritating I find having her around. But apparently my body is a big fan of things that piss me off. Her mouth tastes like fresh fruit—strawberries and pineapple. Her hair tickles the back of my hands. She smells so damn good.

And this kiss, this one fucking kiss is everything I didn’t want it to be. It’s not like any other. We’re years of history colliding. Her mouth on mine is a balm, and desperation has me tipping her head so I can deepen the kiss. I shouldn’t be doing this, but I can’t stop. All I want is more.

I finally pull away so I can drag in some much-needed air. We stare at each other, both of us heaving like we’ve finished running up a mountain. I want to glue my mouth back to hers and put my hands all over her body. But she might still slap me. Maybe it’s taking her a minute to get her bearings and realize this is a colossally bad idea. Because it is. It’s the worst idea ever. She’s my best friend’s sister. The last person I should touch. Her life is a mess, and I don’t have the bandwidth to help her fix it. I don’t want the responsibility. But I want her.

“God, I hate you.” Her voice is a soft, smoky rasp that sends a shot of lust straight to my already aching cock. She releases my wrists, and her hands twine in my hair, gripping the strands as she pushes up on her toes and tries to drag my mouth back to hers. “You drive me up the wall,” she adds. It sounds like an accusation.

Before she can fire off another insult, I suck her bottom lip, letting it slide through my teeth. And then I take her mouth in another searing kiss.

I run my hands down her sides, squeezing her ass as I lift her onto the counter. She moans when my erection presses between her thighs, and she hooks her legs behind my back. When I try to push my tongue into her mouth, she bites it, then sucks on it. She’s fisting my hair, making needy noises as we frantically make out. And it’s not enough.

I find the hem of her shirt with one hand and her ponytail with the other. I wrap the length around my fist as my palm skates over her ribs and cup the swell of her breast. She moans and juts her chest toward me, like she’s looking for more. I thumb her nipple, and she gasps. She fits perfectly in my hand. Even that annoys me, so I pinch the tight peak, and she shrieks. I tighten my grip on her ponytail so she can’t retaliate by head-butting me or using her teeth.

“Stop trying to rip my hair out.” I brush over her nipple with my thumb again, a barely there caress.

“Why? Worried about premature balding, asshole?” She gives it a vicious tug.

I let her ponytail slip through my fingers and grab her wrists. After finding the pressure point that makes her release my hair, I pin her hands behind her back with one of mine and reclaim her ponytail with the other. I tug her head back, lips hovering over hers. “I told you, you didn’t want my attention, but you had to keep on pushing.”

“Seems like you didn’t mind my pushing all that much.”

I bite the edge of her jaw. “You have no idea what you’re in for, Bea.” My lips skim the column of her throat. The smell of her lotion and shampoo is overwhelming. Intoxicating. I should really walk away. Stop before it’s too late.

“Guess I’m about to find out, eh?”

I suck the skin when I reach her collarbone and bite the swell of her breast just above her nipple. “You moan in your sleep all the goddamn time.”

“I do not.”

“You do. It wakes me up almost every fucking night.” She makes the softest sounds. Little whimpers that have me wondering what’s eating up her subconscious. “I bet you’re dreaming about me. Wishing I’d come up there and give you what you think you want.” It’s been happening to me all week.

“Why are you still talking?”

I cover her nipple through the thin fabric of her top and bite, then suck hard. She groans and pulls against my restraining hands, pushing her chest toward my mouth.

I release her ponytail so I can pull her tank down. The stitching tears as her breast pops out. Even her nipples are perfect. A deep blushing pink. Small and delicate. Suckable. Biteable. I do both.

She moans and rolls her hips, giving much needed friction to my aching cock. I free her other breast and lave her nipple, sucking it to a point, biting the swell hard enough to make her cry out. I palm her breast and roll the wet peak between my fingers as I kiss my way across her throat, just like I wanted to.

“You should tell me to stop.” It’s half challenge, half demand. This has the potential to ruin everything, but I can’t find the will to walk away. I need to get her out of my system once and for all.

She scoffs. “And miss the opportunity to see you stew in your self-loathing because you couldn’t help yourself?”

“And you won’t feel the same way?” I work my way back down to her breasts. I can’t get enough—of the sounds she makes when I use teeth, of the way she rolls her hips when I suck a nipple, or her soft sigh when I tongue her.

“Oh, for sure I will. But your suffering will make it worth it.” One of her feet catches in the back of my boxer briefs.

“You’re a vindictive little thing, aren’t you?” I roughly suck her nipple, frustrated that I made it this way between us. Turned us into a war.

“Stop talking and show me how much I don’t want your attention, Tristan.”

I release her wrists and grip her ass, carrying her across the condo to my bedroom. I close the door with my foot, then lock it. Just in case. A trickle of fear slithers down my spine. If Flip finds out…

It’s a risk I shouldn’t take. But the only reason I’ll stop now is if Beat tells me to. I unhook her legs from my waist and toss her on the unmade bed. She squeals and bounces once and then props herself on her elbows.

Her eyes rake over me. “Such a waste of a pretty face.” Her expression and tone reflect her irritation.

For a moment I wish I could erase the ugliness between us. But it’s better this way. If she hates me, it’s just about sex. I shove my boxer briefs over my hips, freeing my erection.

Her breath leaves her in a whoosh. “Good fucking God.”

I grip my cock in my fist and give it a slow stroke. “Now would be a good time to run, little Bea.”

She pulls her tank over her head and tosses it aside. Then lies back and shimmies her sleep shorts over her hips, kicking them at me. I nab them out of the air and bring them to my nose, inhaling deeply. They’re damp at the crotch and smell like fresh want.

Her eyes flare. “You dirty fucker.”

I smile darkly. “You have no idea, but you’re about to.”

I grab her ankle and drag her to the edge of the mattress. Hooking her legs into the crook of my arms, I push them to her chest and spread her wide. I grip her right breast with one hand and tug at the soft patch of dark curls with the other. When I’m an inch away from her pussy, I turn my head, bite the inside of her thigh, and suck on the skin, hard.

She shrieks and her hands go to my hair, threading through and yanking roughly.

“Keep it up and I’ll tie you to my bed,” I warn.

“Fuck you.” Her grip loosens, though.

“Mmmm…” I lick along the juncture of her thigh, close to where I want my mouth. “Soon you’ll be begging me to fuck you.” This is what I’m good at. This is where I can channel my frustration.

“Do you ever shut up?”

“Do you ever stop being annoying?” I suck her pussy lip and bite, not hard, just enough to make her gasp. Even her pussy is perfect. It’s frustratingly pretty, with soft pink lips and a tiny clit peeking out from between the folds, begging to be licked and sucked.

I blow on it, and she whimpers.

I kiss and nibble and bite, licking up and down the juncture of her thighs, but I avoid kissing her where it counts. Once I get a taste, it’ll be game over.

She keeps trying to roll her hips, but the position I have her in makes it tough.

“Tell me what you want, Bea.” I can’t be the only one on the edge.

“I think it’s pretty damn obvious,” she snaps.

“You need to ask for it.” I tug at the curls again. “Nicely.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you back.” I spit on her clit.

Her eyes go wide. Maybe that was too far. But then her pussy contracts. Like she’s already halfway to an orgasm. I arch a brow, waiting, needing her to be as desperate as I am.

She bites her lip, eyes narrowed with frustration and glassy with desire. “Please,” she grits out between clenched teeth.

“Please what?” I nibble on her inner thigh again.

Her teeth grind together. “Please.” She clamps her mouth shut and her cheeks flush. “Lick my pussy.”

“Good girl. Was that so hard?” I drop my head and lick up the length of her, groaning at the taste. I fuck her with my tongue, suck her clit, and try to devour her.

Now she’s chanting the word please, hips rolling with every flick of my tongue.

She’s close to coming. Her thighs shake, and her moans grow deeper and less restrained. But she doesn’t get to do that until I’m fucking her. I want to feel her clench around my aching cock.

She cries out when I stop, hips bucking against nothing as I lift my head and watch desire return to anger.

“You asshole!”

I grin. “You don’t get to come yet.”

I release her right leg and push two fingers into her mouth as she protests again.

She grabs my wrist, but her lips close around them, teeth pressing into my knuckles. I shudder at the thought of replacing them with my cock.

She sucks, tongue sweeping over my fingers on a low, keening sound. I pull them free and push two inside her, but I don’t curl them, just pump twice, enough to keep her on the edge. When she rolls her hips, I ease them out and shove them back in her mouth, stretching out in the cradle of her hips. My cock slides over slick, hot skin, and we both groan. I drag my fingers down her chin, wrapping my pussy-soaked fingers around her throat. I don’t squeeze, just rest them there, feeling her heavy swallow and her pulse thrum against my palm.

“You okay with this?”

I might talk a lot of shit, but I haven’t forgotten who she is. Not for a second. As much as I hate how much I want her, and how easily this could blow everything apart, I don’t want to make her feel like she can’t say no.

She nods once and hooks a leg over my hip.

“I won’t be gentle,” I warn.

“Figured that out already. You gonna keep talking or are you going to start fucking me? Or is now when you stuff my mouth full of your cock so I can’t keep annoying you?”

“Mmm…such a pretty, tempting mouth.” My fingers flex, and she swallows again, maybe nervous. “But then I won’t be able to hear you beg.”

She snorts an indelicate laugh.

“Careful, little Bea, I sting too.” I drag my nose along her cheek until I reach her ear and take the lobe between my teeth, breathing in her shampoo.

Thank God she’ll be moving out soon. She’ll take all her shit with her, and I won’t have to deal with being surrounded by her. Won’t be reminded how little control I have around her. Or how she broke me without even trying.

I release her throat and rummage around in my nightstand for a condom. “This is a one-time thing. We get it out of our system, and that’s it.” I can’t afford to do this more than once. Though already I worry it won’t be enough. That I’ll want more. It’s a slippery slope, and it’s already too risky.

She gives me an incredulous look. “I don’t even like you.”

It’s what I need to hear. It stings, but I’ve mostly been a complete asshole to her, so I can’t expect any different. I push down the regret. She doesn’t deserve my vitriol. It’s not her fault she reminds me of all the things I want but can’t have. “Good. I’ll make sure it stays that way.” I fold back on my knees and tear the condom open, rolling it down my length. I pinch her clit, then slap it, causing her to moan and shriek.

I push her knees to her chest again, barring them with one arm as I lean in to keep her in place.

“It’s a good thing I’m bendy.” She regards me with curious, lust-heavy eyes.

“For me, maybe not so much for you.” I rub the head over her clit, circling twice before I drag it through her slit and nudge her entrance. But I don’t push in.

She can’t lift her hips. She is vulnerable and gorgeous, and for a moment I consider how fucked I’ll be after this. I’ll know exactly how good it feels to be inside her. I’ll have that memory forever. It’s exciting because it’s new and forbidden and I shouldn’t have her. Once it’s over, that burning need will be sated, and I’ll walk away. I get bored easily, anyway. These are all things meant to convince me once will be enough.

I circle her clit again, repeating the circuit once, twice, a third time.

“For fuck’s sake, what are you waiting for?” Her exasperation is amusing.

“You.”

“Me what?”

I smirk. “Tell me you want my cock.”

“Oh my God. Are you serious right now?” Her expression is disbelieving.

“Deathly.” I slide low and push in an inch.

Her eyes flutter shut, and she tries unsuccessfully to shift her hips.

I pull out again. It’s not easy. But it’ll be so much sweeter when she’s the one who folds. I can’t be the only one out of control.

“Beg for it, Bea.” I bite her calf.

“Fuck you.”

“I think you mean fuck me. Unless you’ve changed your mind.” I back off, too close to giving in.

She bites her lips together, clearly fighting with herself. It’s understandable. I’m an asshole and probably pushing her way outside her comfort zone. She’ll hate herself for this after. Which is exactly what I need. For her to never want me again. To loathe me. To regret giving in so I don’t have to worry about this happening again.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I know.” I tap her clit with the head of my erection. “Are you in or are you out? Make up your mind, Bea.”

She huffs. “Fuck me.”

I roll my eyes. “Try again.”

She glares at me. “Fuck me, please.”

I give her an inch. “You can do better than that.”

She wriggles but gets nowhere. “Fuck. Fine.” She threads her fingers through my hair. It’s disarmingly tender, and I like it more than I want to admit.

Her eyes soften and so does her voice, “I need you to fill me, Tristan. I’m on the edge. Please, just fuck me.”

“That’s my sweet girl.” I push all the way in, stretching her, groaning at the feel of her tight, wet heat surrounding me. “Just remember that you begged for it.” I adjust her legs so her heels rest on my back. This is as close to missionary as I’m willing to get. “You might want to hold on.”

I shift my hips back, pulling out to the ridge and slamming back in.

“Oh, God.” Bea grabs my wrists.

The next time she’s ready for the hard thrust and doesn’t move up the bed. I increase my pace, fucking her into the mattress, wringing moans and cries from her lips. Her body convulses with the first orgasm, her pussy squeezing me like a fist.

I don’t give her time to recover. I fold back and rise to my knees, transferring her ankles to one shoulder. Clamping an arm around her shins, I lift and lower her, rocking her on my cock. I slip a thumb between her folds to rub her clit.

She moans and cries out, head whipping back and forth. “It’s too much. Oh, God. Oh my fuuuuu—” She fists the sheets as another orgasm rolls through her. Her legs slide down my arm. I pull out and flip her onto her stomach, straddle her thighs, push back in from behind, and start pounding away again.

“Please don’t stop,” she whimpers.

I smack her ass and she yelps, then moans, her pussy clenching again. Every thrust makes wet shucking sounds, and her inner thighs are coated with her juices.

I stretch out over her, my chest against her back, and grab her ponytail with one hand, wrapping the other around her throat. I bite the edge of her jaw. “Listen to how wet your pussy is for me. You pretend to be so sweet, but you’re a dirty girl, aren’t you? And I’m going to make you filthy.”

I ease my hand under her cheek and push in deep. Then I stop moving altogether. I slide three fingers into her mouth. I don’t even have to say anything; she starts sucking and rolls her hips. Like she can’t get enough. Like this is exactly what she wants.

Yeah. I’m definitely fucked.

I kiss her cheek and whisper, “I’m just getting started, little Bea.”

That gets another low moan.

“Hands,” I demand as I fold back on my knees. “Give me yours.”

They’re currently fisting the sheets beside her head. When she doesn’t automatically comply, I grab her wrists and move her hands to her ass. “Spread for me.”

She hesitates. Her trepidation is obvious in her thick swallow.

I brace my hands on either side of her head and lean in so she can see my eyes. “Am I making you feel good?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

I stroke her cheek, and she chases the affection. “I won’t hurt you, Bea. If you don’t like it, tell me to stop, and I will, okay?”

“Okay.”

I kiss the corner of her mouth, and she reaches up and wraps her hand around the back of my neck. I indulge the kiss for a few strokes of tongue, rolling my hips to the same rhythm. It’s too intimate, though, and I need to remember that’s not what this is about. I want to push her to the very brink of her limits, ride her hard, and tomorrow, when she’s sore and moving is a monumental task, she’ll think about the things I’ve done. Her shame will make sure she never wants me again, and my guilt will do the same for me. It’s seeping in already. But it doesn’t make me want to stop. Not yet.

“Change of plans.” I press a knee between her closed thighs, and she parts them for me. Once her legs are bracketing mine, I fold back and slap her ass. “On all fours.”

She pushes up on shaking arms. I grab her hips and pound into her, my pace as relentless as it is brutal. Bea drops to her elbows and rests her cheek against the mattress, her other hand coming between her legs to stroke her clit. But fuck if I’ll let her come again, yet. I stop thrusting and drop my hands to my sides.

She whines her displeasure. “Don’t stop. Why did you stop?”

“I’m doing all the work.” I smack her ass. The right cheek is pink now. “It’s your turn to fuck me.”

She mutters something I don’t catch.

“What was that?”

“I can’t help out much when I’m a pretzel.” She starts rocking though, slowly at first, but she finds a rhythm and picks up speed, spearing herself on my cock. Her arms shake, and she moans every time her ass hits my pelvis. Juices run down the inside of her thighs and sweat breaks out across her shoulders and the back of her neck. She’s close, but she can’t tip over the edge. I grip her hip and drag my thumb along the inside of her thigh, gathering wetness.

I stay deep, only pulling out a few inches before I push back in and drag my thumb along the divide. She tenses when I press against her ass.

“Relax.” I rub my thumb in slow circles. “Anyone ever get in here?”

She shakes her head.

“Good. It’s mine then.”

“What?” Her head whips around.

“Calm down. I’m not fucking your ass, Bea. Not with my cock, anyway.” But I would. If this were more than a one-time thing, I would relish being the one who gets to have her. I rock my hips so the head rubs exactly the right spot. I press against her opening and my thumb slips inside, up to the first knuckle.

She sucks in a gasping breath.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” she whimper-moans.

I knead her hip, rocking to keep her focused on how good it all feels. I push in further until I reach the second knuckle.

That earns me a high-pitched, “Oh, God.”

With one hand on her hip and my thumb anchored in her ass, I start fucking her again. She moans and whimpers, chanting nonsense as she comes and comes again. I yank my thumb out and grab her ponytail, pulling her up, her back to my chest.

I wrap the hand that was on her hip around her throat, holding her against me as I ram into her. My teeth sink into her shoulder, and I lick my way up the side of her neck. Biting the edge of her jaw, I slide my free hand down her stomach and cup her pussy as I drive into her. “Every time you think about the things I’ve done to you, and you’ll think about them often—” Probably with regret. “—you’re going to wish I’d taken your ass, too. And it’s going to drive you fucking mad that I didn’t, because you’re too inexperienced to handle me.”

That’s how I’ll feel about it, anyway. And I’m not above getting inside her head like she’s gotten in mine. No one has shaken me the way she does, her little barbs a constant prick under my skin.

She opens her mouth to spew some shit, but I shove three fingers into it and rub circles on her swollen clit. Her teeth clamp down, and she shudders violently. I’ve lost count of the number of times she’s come. I’ve never had sex with someone who can come as often and hard as she does. She must have been up in her head the other night. She’d been going at it for at least half an hour before she yeeted her vibrator at me and fucked herself out of an orgasm.

She sags against me, clearly spent. But I’m not done yet.

Then she tenses as the condo door opens and closes.

“Sweet. Breakfast!” Flip exclaims.

Panic makes my throat tight, and anger flames down my spine. He’s supposed to be gone for hours. I was supposed to be able to take my time.

“Oh my God,” Bea whispers around my fingers, which are still in her mouth.

“Shh…” I shut out everything but Bea, unwilling to let the guilt over what I’ve done—what I’m doing—sink its claws in yet. That’ll hit later. But I’m still inside her. And I still haven’t had enough.

I pull out and flip her onto her back, cover her mouth with my palm, and push my way back inside. Her eyes go wide, and she moans. I pinch a nipple, gently, then stretch out over her.

She asks something from behind my hand, but it’s a garbled whisper. I remove it and give her my ear. “What are you doing?”

“I haven’t come yet. We don’t finish until I finish.” Normally I’d avoid missionary because it speaks of comfort and closeness, both things I avoid in sex partners, but I need to be able to keep a hand over her mouth. And if I only get her once, I want to see her face when I come.

I run a hand down her side, skimming her curves until I reach her knee. I pull her leg up, hooking the back of her knee in the crook of my arm. I stay deep, rolling my hips, shushing her when she whimpers.

I stroke her cheek and drop my lips to her ear. “I’m close, Bea. So fucking close. Be my good girl and stay quiet. You don’t want anyone to know you let me fuck you raw, do you?”

She turns her face into my throat, teeth sinking into the skin above my collarbone. Her pussy clenches.

I pull back and take her face in my hands, giving in to the need to soak up some of her goodness. “Filthy, sweet girl.” I claim her mouth and swallow her soft moan as the orgasm slams through me. My teeth hit her lip, and I taste copper, and then my vision goes white. Her nails dig into my shoulders so hard she might break the skin.

I collapse on top of her, needing the feel of her around me.

A knock on my door follows. “Hey, Tris, there’s breakfast out here, if you’re interested.”

My gut tightens and churns. I clear my throat before I call out, “Cool. I’ll be out in a few.”

I don’t want to move, to face what I’ve done, to lie to my best friend. But I need to run interference. I ease out of her, disappointed that it’s over already. I’m far from sated. All I want is more.

“What do I do?” Beat whispers, her panic obvious.

I need to stay in control here. Flip can’t know about this, and Beat can’t see the guilt already setting in. “Stay here. I’ll get food and make up some excuse to eat in here.”

“You smell like condom and pussy,” she whispers.

“That’s not new. He’ll think I brought someone home.” I don’t like the pit in my stomach, or the look that crosses her face. But I’ve just fucked my best friend’s little sister, so fucker’s remorse and a heaping truckload of guilt seems pretty damn likely. “Stay here. I’ll be back soon.”

Against my better judgment, I press my lips softly to hers before I roll off the bed and pull on a pair of boxer briefs. Beat clambers off the mattress and grabs my arm. Her other hand covers her mouth, and her eyes are wide. She’s also naked. She’s a sight to behold, all softness and curves. I keep my eyes above her neck, hoping to avoid another hard-on. I give her a questioning look.

“Your back,” she whispers.

“What about it?”

She points to the mirror. Besides the scratches that run shoulder to ass, there are also several bloody crescent-shaped marks from her nails. I shake off her hold, cross the room, and grab a towel from the hamper. Swiping it over my shoulders, I clear away the blood. I toss the towel in the hamper and head for the door. A wave of self-loathing hits me, not because I regret what I’ve done, but because I don’t. And now I have to face my best friend. I steel myself, unlock the door, and open it a crack.

Flip is standing at the counter, shoving food into his face like it’s going to disappear. I leave my room, stomach tightening.

“Hey, man, looks like Rix was busy this morning. Where’s she at?” He turns to face me, and his eyes go wide. “Oh shit. Found yourself a wild one last night, eh?”

“Sure did.” More like this morning, but that’s semantics. I pause to steady myself, as the wave of guilt is crushing and deserved. Flip has been my best friend since elementary school. We’ve been through thick and thin together, and I just had dirty sex with his sister. She’s still in my bed. The smell of her is all over my sheets and my body. I’m a selfish asshole of the first order.

I avoid eye contact and head for the fridge, grabbing the orange juice. I shake it, twist the cap off, and chug straight from the container. When I’m finished, I swipe my hand across my mouth and lie again. “I’m not sure where she is. Maybe the gym?” But Beat is naked, in my bedroom. “I thought your promo thing would take longer.”

“I gotta meet Hemi again in”—he checks his phone—“shit. Less than an hour. I’m grabbing an extra suit and something casual, then I’m out. You around later? Dallas, Ashish, Roman, and Hollis are meeting at the gym, and after we’ll grab a bite.”

“Yeah. I should be good for that. Send me a text when you’re done with your promo stuff.” It’s bad that I’m already considering the next three positions I’d like to fuck Beat in while I’m making workout plans for later with my best friend. Who I’m lying to. But I’ve already made the mistake. The guilt won’t suck any less if I have her more than once.

“Cool. Your friend still here?” He tips his head toward my room.

I make a noise.

He claps me on the shoulder. “Have fun. I’ll see you later.”

He grabs another muffin and disappears into his bedroom.

I load up a plate with fresh fruit, muffins, and bacon, then grab a couple of bottles of water from the fridge and the maple syrup, because Beat likes her bacon to swim in a pool of it. Before I return to the bedroom, I stop in the bathroom and wet a washcloth. I want to clean Beat up before I get her dirty again. If she’ll let me.

I half expect her to be standing in the same place I left her, wearing a worried expression. But she’s not. At all. Apparently, she found her vibrator, because she’s lying on my bed, legs spread wide, fucking herself with it. Her other hand is balled into a fist, which she’s biting.

I close the door and lock it. Her eyes fly open, and she freezes.

“What are you doing?”

She stops biting her hand long enough to flail toward the door.

I set the tray of food on my dresser and cross to the bed. “He’s leaving again soon.” I hold out my hand. “I didn’t say you could have that back.”

“It’s mine,” she whispers, still frozen.

I shake my head. I’m already going to hell for this. Might as well enjoy my time in the fire. “It’s mine until I decide you deserve to have it back. And I’m also far from done with you, so hand it over.”