Page 200 of The Way I Hate Him
I can feel him come inside me, the way his cock twitches against my pussy, and it’s the most delicious feeling ever.
After a few moments of letting our bodies settle from our orgasms, he releases himself from me and lowers my legs to the bed, but he stays close, leaning over me, cupping my cheek and staring into my eyes.
“We were supposed to do that tonight.”
“What did you expect to happen when you told me you love me?”
He smirks. “I don’t know, a hug and a kiss and then breakfast?”
I chuckle. “Yeah, you miscalculated that by a long shot.” I drag my finger over his bare chest. “Maybe for my birthday, we can just stay here all day.”
“As much as that appeals to me . . .” He squeezes my hip. “I have plans for us.”
“Better than all day in bed?” I wiggle my brows.
In a pained voice, he says, “You can’t really compare the two.”
“Then let’s stay here.” I drag my hands down his stomach to his waistline, where he captures my wrist.
“Baby,” he says, heaving a deep sigh. “I promise you, when we get back from our plans for today, we’ll spend the rest of our time right here. But I have some things I want to do with you first.” He places a kiss on my nose and then rises from the bed. He scoops me in his arms and carries me to the bathroom, something I’ve become quite used to at this point.
After taking care of business, he helps me get dressed, which is very sad, and he puts his briefs and jeans back on before taking my hand and leading me back into the kitchen, where he retrieves his shirt and puts that back on as well.
Yup, all very sad.
I sit at the island like I always do and cross my legs.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says.
“Like what?” I ask.
“Like I just took your favorite toy away.”
“But you did. I love your penis, and I want to play with it.”
He chuckles. “Trust me, you’ll get plenty of time with it today, but first . . .” He pushes the pink Sweet Lab box in front of me. “This is for you.”
I pop open the lid, and a wave of maple wafts in the air as I glance down at two large maple donuts.
“Oh my God, I love these,” I say just as he pushes a plate of eggs and bacon toward me as well. “Do you know who used to love these?”
“Cassidy,” he says.
“Yes. And with eggs and bacon,” I say, chuckling at the coincidence. “And she used to pair it with chocolate milk too.”
Hayes walks over to the fridge, opens the door, and pulls out two Nesquik bottles of chocolate milk.
He sets it down in front of me, grips the counter, and looks me in the eyes as I feel my heart beat faster.
“How did you know that?” I ask.
“Because I listen to you.”
I glance at the plate, the donuts, the milk . . .
“This . . . this is the breakfast I described when I talked about what I’d do for my last day with Cassidy if I had one.”
He slowly nods and takes my hand in his, squeezing it. He then grabs a wrapped present on the opposite counter and hands it to me.
