Sweet Hatred-Chapter 254: Hard-on (18+?)

I should’ve gone to the bathroom.

Should’ve taken a cold shower.

Should’ve left the apartment the second she disappeared into that room and shut the door.

But here I was. Still sitting on her couch. In the dark. Blanket half-pulled over my lap, beer can on the table, and a fucking hard-on that just wouldn’t quit.

I leaned my head back against the couch and let out a slow breath through my nose.

The whole place smelled like her.

The citrus shampoo. That soft lotion she wore. The one I only caught when she passed too close.

My hand twitched against my thigh.

I glanced toward her door. Closed.

Silent.

Still.

And that’s when my hand slipped under the blanket.

Slow.

Like I wasn’t really going to do it.

But I was.

I palmed myself through my briefs, teeth sinking into my bottom lip as I exhaled hard. Fuck.

I was already aching.

So fucking sensitive that one touch made my hips buck a little.

"Jesus, Aria..." I breathed.

My imagination didn’t need help tonight.

She was there in my mind already.

That little smirk.

That unimpressed glare.

The warmth in her laugh that slipped out when she forgot to act guarded.

I pictured her climbing onto my lap. Whispering in my ear with that low voice she used when she was half-asleep and reckless.

Telling me to touch her.

No... telling me to touch myself for her.

And like a goddamn fool, I obeyed, even if it was all in my head.

I slid my hand inside my sweats. Skin to skin.

My cock throbbed in my fist.

I started slow. Long, tight strokes.

My breath hitched, and my eyes fluttered shut as I rested my head back against the couch. I imagined her watching me. Tongue sliding across her bottom lip. Teasing.

Then I imagined her straddling me. Sweatpants off. Her thighs squeezing around me, her wet heat sinking down, inch by inch until I was buried in her.

"Fuck," I groaned, biting down hard to keep quiet.

The blanket shifted. My pace got faster. My abs clenched.

I pumped harder, faster.

In my mind, she was grinding against me, moaning, dragging her nails down my chest, telling me how good I felt, how full she was—

"Aria..."

It left my mouth before I could stop it. Raw. Wrecked.

My hips jerked. Muscles locked.

And I came in my own hand, hot and messy under the blanket, gasping through gritted teeth like she’d just ridden the soul out of me.

My head fell back.

Chest heaving.

Sweat dripping down my temple.

God.

I was a mess.

I laid there for a second, catching my breath. The guilt didn’t even have time to settle before I was already reaching for a tissue from the table and quietly cleaning up my fucking shame.

I looked toward her door again.

Still quiet.

Still dark.

She had no idea what just happened.

Or maybe she did.

Maybe she’d come out, look at me once, and know exactly what I did while she slept ten feet away.

And the worst part?

I didn’t regret it.

Not one bit.

I blurred everything out after I came.

Just cleaned up with a handful of tissues and guilt sitting heavy in my chest. I stuffed the blanket aside, barely remembering to toss it over the back of the couch like nothing happened. Like my dirty, depraved thoughts hadn’t just soaked into the fibers.

I didn’t even think about sleeping.

Just laid there in the dark, half-drenched in sweat and shame, pretending I was cool about it.

Pretending I wasn’t still aching for her.

Somehow, I managed to doze off.

But then the sun came up.

And with it... reality.

I blinked slowly into the morning light filtering through her blinds and immediately regretted every goddamn thing.

Her scent still clung to my skin. Her laugh echoed in my ears. And all I could think about was how soft she looked curled up in her bed behind that door, completely unaware of how hard I’d unraveled last night.

Or was she?

I sat up, ran a hand through my messy hair, and winced when I saw the same blanket I’d used folded on the floor beside the couch.

Shit. Did I leave evidence?

Before I could spiral, I heard movement, her door creaking, footsteps.

I sprung up.

Heart hammering.

I schooled my face into something neutral. Chill. Collected.

Cool younger guy who definitely did not jerk off to you on your couch five hours ago.

She walked out of her room already dressed for work, black pants, a silky shirt, and her hair twisted up. She looked fresh, composed, and completely unaware.

But the second her sleepy eyes met mine, I froze.

And I knew.

Because she frowned.

Then tilted her head, gaze narrowing. "Good morning to you too. You good?"

I swallowed.

Too quickly.

My voice cracked like a fucking teenager’s. "Yeah. Just... didn’t sleep great on the couch."

Her brows lifted. "You look flushed."

Fuck.

I coughed. "You know, maybe I’m allergic to your detergent."

She blinked. "Are you for real?"

I grabbed my jacket. "Anyway, I should head out. Work and all that. Wouldn’t want to keep the world waiting."

She stared at me like she didn’t believe a word I was saying.

I tossed her a crooked grin. "Unless you want me to stay and keep you company indoors all day?"

She rolled her eyes. "You’re so dumb."

"I’m also very charming," I added, backing toward the door like my ass was on fire. "And good-looking. And tragically single. Call me later if you miss me."

She gave me the kind of dry look that should’ve cooled me down but just made my dick twitch again.

Jesus, Sylas. Get a grip.

"Bye," she said, grabbing a mug.

"Bye," I echoed. "Don’t work too hard. And don’t think about me too much."

She didn’t respond. Just smirked. And that little knowing smirk alone almost sent me spiraling back to last night.

I shut the door behind me. Stood in the hallway.

Exhaled.

Hard.

And muttered under my breath, "I’m so fucked."

Not because she caught me.

But because I wanted more.

So fucking much more.

The ride back home felt longer than usual.

Wind in my face, Aria still clinging to the back of my mind like her scent clung to every part of my existence. My helmet still smelled like her. My gloves? Like her skin. My brain? An absolute fuckin’ mess.

By the time I rolled into the courtyard of the twin villa, I was half-hard, half-exhausted, and wholly unprepared for anything.

The butler was already standing outside before I killed the engine.

"Sir, your father has been trying to reach—"

"Tell him I died," I muttered, tossing the keys into his waiting hands without breaking stride.

I climbed the marble stairs two at a time, desperate for silence. A cold shower. A goddamn lobotomy.

But, of course...

There she was.

My dumb sister.

Sitting on the barstool by the kitchen counter of the second living room like some vengeful cockroach covered in wealth and suspicion. Her legs crossed, wine glass in hand, despite the fact that it was still fucking morning.

Her gaze locked on mine.

That wicked little smile spreading like blood.

"And where have you been, baby brother?" she sang, tilting her head.

I rolled my eyes. "Go haunt someone else, Ash."

"Oh, come on," she pouted, spinning on the stool to face me as I passed. "No kiss for your favorite sibling?"

"You’re my only sibling and still not a favorite," I muttered.

She followed me. Of course she did. Like the ghost Annabelle in red lipstick.

As I pushed open my bedroom door, she slid in right behind me like she owned the place.

"You’ve got an attitude today," she sighed. "Is it because Daddy called?"

I didn’t answer. Just peeled off my jacket and tossed it over the armchair.

Ash wrinkled her nose and took a step closer, sniffing theatrically.

"...You smell weird."

I froze.

"...Excuse me?"

"That’s not your usual cologne," she murmured, stepping in. "It’s... vanilla. And fruit. Is that... is that coconut? And—ohhh."

Her eyes flared.

"Aria."

I didn’t say a word.

Didn’t need to.

Her laugh was venom wrapped in lace. "Kael’s not gonna like that. He’ll tear you limb from limb."

I leaned against the dresser, crossing my arms. "Let him try."

"Oh, Sylas." She shook her head mockingly. "This will be fun to watch. You and Kael both acting like she’s the last woman on Earth."

"Don’t talk about her like that."

She rolled her eyes, then dropped her voice into something sultry. "You know what I think? Aria needs to leave you boys alone... and be with a real woman."

She ran her hand down her own thigh, smirking.

I laughed. Scoffed. "Not everyone’s dumb enough to fall for your act, Ash."

She stepped closer, face inches from mine. "No act, darling. I always get what I want."

I dropped my voice low. Deadpan.

"Unless you’re into getting scarred for life, I suggest you get the hell out of my room."

Ashlyn wrinkled her nose in disgust and finally backed off. "You’ve always been such a buzzkill." freewёbnoνel-com

"Because you’re always buzzing around shit that’s not yours."

She sauntered to the doorway, heels clicking, hips swaying.

But she paused before she left.

Turned halfway, gaze cutting.

"This isn’t over for you or Kael," she said.

And with that, she disappeared down the hallway like a silk-clad threat.