Hatred With Benefits

T W E N T Y - E I G H T

EVA.

I remove my gaze from Emerson's and stare down at his pants. Without a word, I bend my knees and

hook my fingers around the waistband of his sweatpants before pulling it down to his ankles.

When I lift my head to Emerson again, he has a smirk on his face as he gets out of the pants and

tosses it to the side.

Taking a breath, I move to my knees in front of him and Emerson's hand moves to my head to coil his

fingers through my hair as I grip his cock in my hand.

"Tell me what you want. " I mumble as I lift my head to meet his eyes and Emerson shakes his head.

"You aren't playing that game with me, Carson. "

I tilt my head to the side as I grip his cock tighter and a hiss falls from his mouth in response; an

irritated look creeping into his face.

"What do you want me to do with this, Ford?" I whisper as I push my face closer and give faint rubs to

the crown of his hardened cock. "I won't do anything if you don't tell me. "

I gasp when Emerson's hand moves to the back of my neck and he presses hard into the skin as he

lifts my eyes from between his legs to meet his gaze.

"Suck. " The one word from him is powerful enough to send shivers through my body at that spot and

incites a familiar agonizing ache between my thighs.

Playing Emerson's favourites game, I lick my lips and tick my tongue as I increase the pressure of my

grip. "You can do better than that, Ford. "

"I can help myself, you know. " He sneers and I nod. "You could—" I pause to slide my hand down the

length before moving it to the base again. "But we both know that's no better job than having you in my

mouth. Tell me, Ford. Tell me you want my mouth on you. Tell me how badly you want me to suck you.

" Emerson's cock twitches in my hand as a response to my words and I stare at Emerson with awaiting

eyes.

"I fucking hate you. Do you know that?" The emotion in Emerson's voice is adequate to deliver the

message and I smile up at him. An innocuous smile where I blink my eyes up at him, knowing it drives

him crazy with each other second that passes. "I know, and I hate you right back, Ford. "

Emerson doesn't say a word as he shifts his hand to the back of my head and lowers my head with

enough force to make my lips touch the tip of his cock.

"I want that pretty, running and filthy mouth of yours on me, Carson. I want it wrapped around my cock,

so suck. " The contentment that comes with his words is enough to give rise to the excitement that

swims through my body with scorching fire. His words are a mixture of insulting, praising and

commanding– just the way he is.

"That's what I thought. " I keep my eyes fixed on him as I close my mouth around his length, taking it

slow and easing it gently into my mouth.

The first satisfying sound that falls from Emerson's mouth makes pride swell in my chest and I take the

rest of his length down my throat, my eyes wide as I try to blink back the tears at the corners of my

eyes.

"Oh, fuck Carson. You have no idea how fucking beautiful you look right now. " If it isn't the oddest way

for Emerson Ford to compliment me in his unusual way when I'm on my knees before him with a mouth

full of his cock, and if it isn't even weirder that I feel a surge of satisfaction with his words.

I pull half of his length from my mouth and rub my hand down the flesh before lowering it back into my

mouth; my teeth scraping along with each slide and my hand supporting where my mouth doesn't

cover.

"Yes, just like that. Your mouth feels so fucking good wrapped around me, Carson. " Emerson's dirty

praises encourage me to bob my head faster and twirl my tongue across his crown— to which he

grunts.

With each pleasurable sound and dirty word that falls from Emerson's lips, I go faster and give him the

way I know he wants.

When his breathing becomes harboured and he thrusts his hips forward along with the movement of

my head— I know he's close.

"I'm about to explode. If you don't want my mess in your mouth, you might want to pull away. "

Emerson notifies me as a warning but I don't say anything as I open my mouth wide for me and he

goes ahead— shooting load after load of his cum inside my mouth.

"That feels so damn good. " Emerson throws his head back as he steps away and rubs his hand down

his length, shooting the bits that's left across my chest while I swallow him down my throat and drag my

tongue across my lips to the trails that escaped.

"How many times have you done that?" Emerson's brows raise as I move to my feet. My eyes drop to

his semi-hard cock, still pointing straight at me and I look away to his face. "Why do you ask?"

"How many cocks have you sucked behind your daddy's back, Carson?" He repeats his question in a

more irksome way and I glare at him. "Keep that word out of your mouth, Ford. " As weird as it sounds,

Emerson Ford will be the first man to have my mouth on his cock. When it comes to having sex, it's

them giving me pleasure— not me giving them one.

Emerson's shoulder shakes in a laugh as he stares down at my chest, the sound slowly dying down.

"Do you want me to scrub that off you?"

"No. I need to brush your terrible taste from my mouth. " I say as I move away from his view and

Emerson chuckles behind me. "It sure as hell didn't seem terrible when you shoved me down your

throat, Carson. "

"You'll be surprised at the aftertaste of your mess, Ford. " I retort as I turn to the glass and I hear

Emerson's footsteps behind me before there's the sound of the water running.

Emerson comes out minutes later like the perfectly created sculpture he is with beads of water moving

down his gorgeous face, to his naked chest and his muscled thighs with his cock dangling between his

legs.

"Want to go once more, Carson?" His voice pulls me out of my thoughts and I shove him my middle

finger before walking past him into the shower.

I hear Emerson's small laughs before it fades and I place my hands on the wall as a small smile

touches my lips.

~

With a rumble of my stomach, I clad my naked body in Jean shorts and a cropped tank, letting my hair

fall down my shoulders before walking out of my room.

I walk into the living room and furrow my brows at the sounds that come from the kitchen.

Turning my direction from the couch, I stride inside the room to see Emerson's body turned to the

counter.

Emerson Ford is in the kitchen. Cooking and shirtless. He's always shirtless around the house, but holy

fuck, the fact that he's shirtless in this way is so fùcking hot.

I watch his back muscles flex as Emerson stretches his hand to grab the pan and place it on the stove–

the movement is random but I find it sexy when the sunlight from the window glides down the skin of

his back in a brilliant glow and it turns dirty when I imagine my nails scraping down that skin.

I shake the sinful thoughts off my mind before I lose it and blatantly ask Ford to fuck me, judging by the

wetness that's gathered between my legs– I'll need new panties.

"What are you doing?" He stills and twists his body towards me at the sound of my voice, and I'm

amazed by the sight of Emerson with wet curls. The hair is tousled over his head and the curls fall to

his face in a nice, messy way. If I thought Emerson's sweaty back was hot, then I had another thing

coming with the wet hair. I don't think I've ever found a man hot with the hair and I grimace at my

thoughts.

"What else would I be doing in the kitchen, Carson?" He hisses as he turns his back to me and I begin

to move toward him as I say, "I don't know? Setting fire to the whole house so you could burn me?"

Emerson shakes his head as I reach his side, and he meets my eyes as he speaks; a mischievous look

on his face. "I wouldn't endanger my life just to get rid of you, Carson. "

"You can be stupid, Ford. " I hum as I look past his face to the pan he has on the stove. "What are you

making?"

"Pancakes. " He responds, gesturing to the bowl and other necessary ingredients for the said food at

his other side.

"Do you need help with it?" I ask him and Emerson lifts his head, his brows raised as he turns his body

to me. "And to whom do I own this honour?"

I roll my eyes and step closer to him. "I want some too. "

"I was going to make it for the both of us. " He surprises me by saying, and there's no look of teasing in

his eyes when I drop my gaze to him. A short silence settles between us as I stand in front of Emerson

before I break it and move to the other side.

"Why?" I clear my throat as I pull the bowl closer. "Were you planning on murdering me with food,

Ford?"

"How disrespectful of you to think I would do such a bad thing to the poor food. " His tone is playful,

and I shake my head, my lips stretched in a small smile as I pour the flour into the bowl.

"Get the pan heated and I'll get this mixed. " I tell Emerson with one glance directed at him before I look

back to the bowl before me.

"Do you want much?" I ask Emerson as I add the salt and the baking powder.

"That's enough for both of us. " His response comes and I nod before I add the milk and the melted

butter.

"You look like you know what you're doing. " Emerson's breath fans the side of my face as he leans his

head over my shoulder and I angle my head to the side to get a better view of his face. "What do you

think you're doing?"

"Watching you cook, Carson. " He responds dumbly as he places his hands on the edge of the counter

to sandwich me between the counter and his large body. His body heat surrounds me and I take a peek

at the other side to where the pan lies.

"You are to heat that. " I tell Emerson when I look back at him and he doesn't respond as he lifts his

hand to my hair and brush it to my side, exposing the skin of my neck– something he's done once.

"I have. " He answers in a whisper as he presses his lower body against mine and I gulp down the

sound that threatens to leave my throat at the feel of his body against mine with his lips brushing the

side of my neck.

"Did you grease it?" My voice comes out steady and firm despite the distraction that Emerson Ford is

turning out to be as he nuzzles his nose in my neck and moves it across the skin– almost like he's

sniffing it.

"I did, Carson. " He responds to my question and I hum before turning back to the front to crack the

eggs into the bowl.

"Want me to turn the words from the other day with the omelet to reality, Carson?" Emerson gives a

long swipe of his tongue to my earlobe as he speaks his words and I don't need him to say more to

know he means bending me over the counter. Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

"Fuck off. " I scowl at him, nudging him with my shoulder and Emerson chuckles before stepping away

while I grab the mixer.

I bite down on my lower lip as I spoon the pancake batter into the pan while Emerson watches me from

the side.

"Give it here. " Emerson stretches his hand as I drop the bowl and grab the spatula, and I shake my

head in refusal. "I'm almost done. "

"Give it, Carson. You can watch me do the rest, though I'll advise you not to fall for me along the line. "

A proud smile climbs on his face and I snort out a laugh. "That wouldn't happen in your next life, Ford. "

"Never be too sure, Carson. " He winks as he grabs the spatula from me and begins to turn the

pancakes– the movement and the gratification of him flexing his wrists a sight for amusement.

Emerson's head suddenly snaps to me as he flips the last pancake and I don't have enough time to

turn my head before he meets my eyes.

"Enjoyed it?" He beams as he raises the spatula to his shoulder and stride toward me.

"It was painful to watch. " I lie and Emerson laughs with a shake of his head, as though he can see

right through my words to uncover the hidden truth.

"Could have fooled me. " He drops his tone as he steps closer to me, his gaze dropping to my lower

face.

I press my palms behind me to the counter and my heart picks race at the silence that descends in the

air as I lick my lips while staring at his.

I want to touch it. Press it against mine. I want to take it between my lips and sink my teeth into it— Too

many wants. Too many desires and not enough resistance to hold back.

I feel Emerson inch his face closer to me: bit by bit, agonizing slowly, with the desire clear in his eyes

and the moment suddenly feels intimate— too intimate than I can handle.

Relief comes with a knock at the front door and Emerson steps away from me, angling his head in the

direction of the sound.

When he looks back at me to meet my eyes, I say, "Get it. "

He takes one last glance at me and surprisingly heeds to my words. I watch as he turns on his heels

and walks to the door, taking breaths to calm my racing heart when he's out of sight.

This thing. Him. It's turning out to be worse than it's meant to me.

I'm stupidly getting more addicted to Emerson Ford than I would like to admit.