CHAPTER 3: IMPALED ON HATE COCK

SIENNA’S POVI didn’t hesitate. I took the head into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tip, tasting the salty, musky precum—bitter like our rivalry.

He groaned, a deep, ragged sound of triumph, and his hips jerked forward, forcing more of himself into my mouth, stretching my jaw to its limit.

“Deeper,” he demanded, voice gravel. “Swallow me whole, Sienna. Show me how much you loathe me with that throat.”

I relaxed my throat, taking him in inch by agonizing inch, my lips stretching obscenely to accommodate his girth, saliva pooling.

I looked up at him through watering eyes, and the look on his...