The Hatesick Diaries (St. Mary’s Rebels #5) Read Online Saffron A. Kent

Categories Genre: Angst, Contemporary, New Adult, Romance, Sports, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: St. Mary’s Rebels Series by Saffron A. Kent
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Total pages in book: 185
Estimated words: 191421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 957(@200wpm)___ 766(@250wpm)___ 638(@300wpm)
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That alone is making me all wet.

It’s making my pussy all drippy.

Plus the fact that he looks so sexy, taking that belt off. He looks so… commanding and dominating and such a deliciously frightening figure when he wraps that belt around his veiny forearm the way he wraps my braid.

My lips part. My bare tits jiggle with my breaths.

When he growls, “Arms up.”

I don’t know how I do it but I lift my arms, body arching up, my spine bowing. And when his eyes flash and his muscles shudder with my surrender, I don’t know how I manage to not jump up and seek his mouth for a kiss.

He comes down at me, moving like a warm shadow like he always does, and loops the belt around my wrists, the leather feeling all kinds of hot and soft and supple. Erotic.

Just like his hard and smooth body over me.

Three loops, no, four.

Before he has a tight grip.

Tight enough that I won’t get free, that I won’t get the use of my hands back.

Good.

All helpless and flushed, me.

All dominating and protective, him.

When he’s done, he looks into my eyes. “Keep ’em there.”

I nod, speechless.

But my eyes are doing the talking.

My eyes are wide and unblinking and staring up at him with all the love.

Which he does hear like he always hears me.

“Jesus Christ,” he growls, his brows furrowed and angry. “Stop fucking talking.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Then stop looking at me like that.”

“I can’t. I love you.”

He clenches his eyes shut as if my confession has actually pained him. Then, opening them, he goes, “Let’s see how much you love me when I fuck you in the ass.”

Now that he’s settled between my open thighs, I lift them up and wrap them around his hot waist. “I’ll love you more.”

Framing my face with his hands, he growls, “You’re fucking delusional, aren’t you?”

“No, you are.”

“And a drama queen.”

“Yes. But you are too.”

His grip on my face pulses. “You think you’ll give me your forbidden little asshole that I’ve been dying to fuck for days now, and I’ll magically declare my undying love for you.”

“I don’t know,” I say, my fingers fisting up above me. “There has to be something magical about my forbidden little asshole if you’ve wanted to fuck it for days now. So I sure hope so.”

He doesn’t like my sass and it’s obvious in his clenched words. “It’s gonna hurt. I’m gonna make it hurt.”

“You won’t. You’ll do everything to not make it hurt.”

“You —”

Something occurs to me then. “Oh, my panties.”

“What?”

“Stuff them in my mouth so I don’t make a sound.”

His eyes rove over my features for a second. “No.”

“Reign —”

“Let them hear. Let them fucking come. Maybe they’ll knock some sense into you when they see me raping your little asshole, you stupid little reckless girl.”

“Not a rape and I’m a stupid little reckless girl in love,” I lift my face up to his, “you big bad bully in denial.”

Our teeth smack with our next kiss.

Our bodies smack too.

And then he proceeds to do what I always knew he would. What I’ve been waiting for him to do.

He takes care of me.

He protects me.

Prepares me. For his brutal invasion.

He kisses and licks and sucks every single part of my body. He leaves little bites on my tits. Little nips on my trembling tummy. He rubs his scruff on the inside of my thighs as he eats me out.

He fucks me with his tongue. With his fingers.

First my pussy and then my ass.

He tries to widen me as much as he can.

And the best thing is that he’s so patient.

He’s so gentle and tender that I don’t know how to tell him that maybe this is not exactly making his point. Maybe him being so excruciatingly loving and wonderful with me isn’t going to convince me that he doesn’t.

But then, it’s not as if I can make words right now.

It’s not as if I can think right now either.

All I can do is squirm and twist and writhe under his hands, under his ministrations.

But I do remember to keep my arms up above me and keep quiet. I do remember to not make a single sound. I’m even quieter than on the nights he does stuff my mouth with my soaked panties. I’m even more careful. I’ll be damned if anyone dares to harm him.

By the time he’s done preparing me, I’ve come three times I think and I’ve soaked him, my thighs, my sheets that many times as well. And I’m so mindless and hungry for him, my asshole clenching, that I hardly feel any pain.

When he enters.

When he rocks in and out and gains entry one inch at a time.

Or maybe I do feel the pain. I do feel the stretch of invasion, of being conquered by his monster dick, but the pleasure, the victory of having him there, the fact that I did it and he helped me get there, wins over any discomfort that I might be feeling.


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