Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Hunter
You aren’t broken, but you are mine.
I had to walk away so I didn’t push her into more than what she’s comfortable with. If her answer had been different, if she had been willing to acknowledge the off the charts chemistry happening between us, I would have taken great pleasure in showing her what comes next—her—but I have to wait for her to catch up. I won’t rush anything with her, and I won’t allow her to make excuses or dismiss me as another partner who doesn’t put her first. That isn’t happening. Eleanor Austin wants to be loved, inside and out. Who doesn’t?
The problem is whatever she went through, whatever conditioning was drilled into her psyche, is still in play years later. I’ve done a little research on cults in general, ones similar to what seems to be happening with Jonathan’s—at least, on the surface. The sex trafficking appears to be something developed after he surrounded himself with vulnerable women and powerful men, building a society where he is king and his word his gospel. Now, Eleanor is hellbent on destroying him, and I can only imagine the horrors she suffered at his hands. But what started as a favor to a friend has turned into a mission to make her understand there is more to life than her revenge. I’m not stupid enough to try and stop her, and I don’t want to. I will stand by her side as she faces her enemies, but when the blood turns cold and she is left adrift, I want to be the tether holding her to this world. More importantly, I need to get under her skin enough for her to make choices which preserve her future. I’m trying to give her hope for herself, not for the thousands of victims she is praying will be her salvation.
Charlie trots happily at my side, feeling content but confused about his late-night walk. I do a complete sweep of the main road, nodding to some people on their way home after a night of ribs and line dancing. I don’t stop to chat as my head is too full of images of Eleanor’s flushed and panting body and her fake orgasm that had me hard in seconds. I catalog the differences, given I have had the privilege of witnessing her actually come, eager for my chance to be the reason she lets loose. She’s good at faking; much like the way she can insert herself into a social situation if given time to study it, but she’s never comfortable, which means she must have studied others orgasming. My steps falter, my cock lifting once more. Does my sex toy collecting little hacker watch porn? What kind? Would she be willing to show me? Fuck, I’m meant to be calming down. Huffing, I begin another loop of the street.
My blood cools with each step as I turn my thoughts to less sexy ones. Christopher and Jonathan are both sniffing too close to home. I have already had three of my properties in different states cleaned and stocked, ready for us should we need to move quickly. I know I’m on borrowed time—she’s going to run at some point, with or without me. I’d prefer it to be the first choice. I know she’d rather do this alone, but she won’t survive this by herself, and I don’t know if I’ll survive losing her to her suicide mission.
Before entering the yard, I do a quick sweep of the perimeter, chuckling at the spot Carlson must have been lurking to catch a glimpse of his hero. You could see in his eyes Ghost is his idol, and the fact she is a beautiful woman has him completely and utterly stumped. Welcome to my life, kid.
Satisfied there is nothing suspicious on the grounds, I let myself and Charlie into the yard, where he proceeds to trot around the edge to make it known that this is his domain, and he is the boss. He makes a low grumbly noise at something, which normally precedes an episode of play.
“Come on, buddy, it’s too late, and we left our girl all alone. But you know,” he looks up with curious eyes, “you have to stop stealing her shit.”
He huffs as we enter the building like I’m the one being utterly ridiculous. “Yeah, I know, it’s interesting shit. But it’s still hers.”
He side-eyes me like I’m the world’s biggest hypocrite. I am. I’ll fully own that. My key slides into the door, and I expect, by this point, Eleanor has taken care of herself to solidify her “I don’t need a man” code of ethics and crawled into bed. But no. The lights in the kitchen are on, and I’m suddenly staring down a furious female. I was only gone an hour.
My brow creases as her gaze catches mine, and she storms out from behind the counter and squares up to me. I glance around, checking for dead bodies or the big flashing warning that should be happening given the level of emotion pouring from her. She is sans pants—again—and her shirt is gaping open, revealing no bra. Interesting.
“What happened?”
She jabs her finger in my chest, and Charlie barks. “You happened.” Okay... She throws her hands in the air, then grips the ends of her hair before grimacing. “You broke me.”
“I… what?” I wasn’t even home. How is whatever is happening my fault?
“You. Broke. Me.” She spits each word like they are covered in blades.
“You wouldn’t be walking if I’d broken you,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. But I also want to understand where this anger is coming from. It’s the first time I’ve seen her ruled by her heart, and while I might have chosen a much different emotion for her, this works. Anything to break down her walls and make her feel. I glance down at her legs, unable to resist any longer, not helping myself as the heat I walked off comes roaring back with a vengeance.
“That right there!” she snaps, pointing an accusatory finger at me. “You tease me, telling me what you are going to do to me. Your constant dirty talk. I?—”
“Promises,” I correct. “I mean every word.”
She spins on her heel. Oh no, you don’t. I shackle her wrist and spin her back to face me. There are honest to God tears in her eyes. Charlie huffs at her lack of attention, but I don’t need him disrupting whatever breakthrough we are having right now. “Charlie, bed,” I order sternly, pointing toward my room. He huffs at me. “Bed.”
He picks his ass up and starts down the hallway, looking over his shoulder a few times before disappearing inside my bedroom. “Tell me what’s wrong, trouble.” I soften my tone, but it’s still a demand as I tuck a strand of her wild hair behind her ear.
Her eyes search mine, her anger barely covering her fear. “You left.”
“You said you weren’t affected, so I went for a walk. I don’t ever force myself where I’m not wanted, Eleanor. I don’t sit around and try to figure out mixed signals. If the words coming out of your mouth aren’t yes or some enthusiastic derivative, then my answer will always be no.”
“You don’t want me? After kissing me like that, after stealing my breath and making me dizzy, you don’t want me? It was a game to you.” Her voice catches, her anger overpowering her fear. “Is that what I am? A conquest to blab to your buddies about?”
I back her into the kitchen. There is so much to unpack in that statement, and it can’t happen in the hallway. “I want you, and I have never indicated otherwise. I kissed you like that because you fucking rule me, and it’s driving me fucking insane. No games, Eleanor. I speak the truth to you because it’s what you need. I don’t want you spending energy trying to figure out exactly what I mean, so I tell you. If you are unsure, ask. If you were a conquest, we both know I would have walked by now. If you don’t believe my words, believe my actions. I am constantly thinking about you. You are in my head, in my dreams, in my veins, twenty-four seven. I don’t want a quick and dirty fuck we forget about in the morning. Not with you. Never with you.”
She swallows as I crowd her against the island. My hands span her waist before I lift her onto the counter so we’re eye level. I’m a big guy, and she is having a crisis as I continue to poke at the cracks in her hard exterior. I want us on an even level, for her to see we’re on the same side and want the same things.
“Take a breath and tell me what I broke.”
A tear breaks free and spills down her cheek. My heart fractures in my chest. Oh, Eleanor. If I could take away the pain and get you to the point where you are living your full life, I would. But transformations aren’t easy, and the pain is a necessary evil.
“I tried to take care of myself when you left.”
I expected as much but having her admit it so bluntly still stings. “Okay.”
“I used my tried and tested, guaranteed method to get me there in five minutes flat.”
I try to keep my mind on the moment, not on the image of what she was doing with the toy she brandished at the airport. “I remember.”
“But it didn’t work.”
My head cants to the side. “You couldn’t come?”
She huffs, a little of her fire burning out now she’s talking about it. “Exactly. You broke me, so now you need to fix me.”
I stifle a laugh, her words reminiscent of the break it, you buy it policy. “How would you like me to fix you?” Come on, trouble, take a leap. I’ll catch you.
Her gaze is unwavering as it meets mine. “Make me come.”
There we go. Not a question. Not a shy hesitation. A demand. It’s as if she knows everything I’ve promised is true. My already semi-hard cock now strains against my jeans, but this isn’t about me. Eleanor Austin has gifted me with her trust, begging me to turn her frustration into pleasure and to prove two people orgasms are far superior to solo ones.
“Are you sure?” I check. No wiggle room, trouble. I’m not being careless with you for one second.
She nods, and I raise a brow. “Yes, I want you to make me come, Hunter. To touch my body and wring the pleasure out of it like you promised. Make me see stars.”
Mission fucking accepted. “If you say stop, or tell me you don’t enjoy something, I will stop at any point, do you understand?” This goes deeper for me than she realizes. I don’t want her to beg—correction, I would love to see her beg—but only for more, harder, faster, deeper. I will give her everything she deserves and more.
I start unbuttoning her shirt, heat thrumming through every inch of my body. She grabs my hands, and I freeze. “Stop?” Already?
She shakes her head. “No, but can we move it to the bedroom?”
“No.” Not with what I’ve got planned. I don’t want to waste precious seconds moving.
“Lights off?” she asks with such vulnerability it floors me. The confident woman that flashed her naked breasts at me and barely blushes at the bouquet of sex toys she carries is not a sex in the dark kind of girl. There’s something more at play here.
I lean my forehead against hers, maintaining eye contact. “I want to see what I’m touching. Asking me to do this blindfolded while I’m trying to get to know your body is not going to work.”
She swallows, then nods, her breaths short for all the wrong reasons. I don’t move. “Okay, lights on. Proceed.”
This time I let the laughter break free, watching her shoulders relax a fraction. That’s it, trouble. I finish unbuttoning her shirt and push it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the counter in a whisper of fabric. I find her completely naked, my mouth drying at the oasis in front of me. Clearly panties after her failed orgasm were too much to think about. I keep my gaze on her face until she connects with me, completely and utterly, her eyes clearing as she finds herself in the moment. Then I lean forward and kiss her lips, and she parts for me immediately, like the last hour of time apart never happened. She moves against me, testing my resolve, as I skate my hands up her spine and over her shoulders, ghosting over the sides of her breasts which has her arching her back and moaning into my mouth. Fuck me. I might come in my jeans like a teenager tonight.
I don’t look anywhere but her face as I keep my hands away from her obvious sensitive zones, making her gasp in surprise at places she’s clearly never considered sexual. Everywhere can be sexual in the right context. The bottom of her back, the lobe of her ear I can’t help but nip. Her scalp when I tug on her hair. She becomes more and more restless the longer I don’t take this to the next level, which is exactly what she needs right now.
“Hunter,” she pleads. Now she’s ready. I put a hand on her chest and push her back so she’s splayed out on my kitchen counter exactly like I imagined when I wrote her that message on the refrigerator. She will learn I meant everything I said, even if it takes hours to prove it.
My mouth waters at the knowledge those pretty piercings are about to be against my tongue. I’ve been fantasizing about it for days, but first I want to look at her—all of her. I take a step back and guide her legs open, almost falling to my knees at the sight of the matching metal in her clit.
“I’m going to need a little guidance,” I murmur, breathless and oh so fucking eager.
She tilts her head and arches a brow. “I thought you were the king of orgasms?”
“I’ve never been with a woman who was pierced. I need to know what feels good, so you’ll have to communicate. You can’t disappear inside yourself and wait for this to be over. Understand?”
She nods. I don’t move. “Yes,” she hisses. I’m even more curious about why she got these piercings in the first place, but now is not the time for a psych session.
“Good girl.” My hands grasp her ankles, and I yank her wider, making her gasp in surprise. I trail my fingers up her legs, exactly as I described, and she shifts on the counter. Impatient little hacker. My tongue snakes out to swirl around her ankle bone, then moves higher at a torturous pace. She grumbles that I’m a fucking tease as she lifts her ass in the air, the smell of her arousal nearly ending me where I stand.
My hands wrap around her legs, keeping her in place as I place kisses on the insides of her thighs. That stunning watercolor tattoo needs exploring, but for now, I bypass her glistening pussy and skim my tongue over the vines curling on her stomach. She’s both wound up tight and pliant in my hands, but she’s not out of her head enough yet. I want to make sure I create a memorable experience compared to anyone from her past. Given that I’m her present and her future, it seems prudent to mark myself in her core memories from the outset.
I can’t resist anymore, so my tongue laps at her nipple, and she cries out. Perfect. I’m confident I could have her coming on my tongue quicker than her favorite toy. But I don’t want to replace her toy, I want to be superior.
I grasp the metal between my teeth and tug gently until she moans low in her throat. That’s the sweet spot. Then I repeat with the other breast, keeping her pinned down so she can’t get any relief from rubbing against me.
“Hunter,” she whispers, fighting against my hold.
“Do you trust me?” I ask, running my nose along her collarbone. For this to work, she has to.
“Yes.” No hesitation at her answer, but a little bit of shock on her face at the revelation.
“Good, stay still.”
I turn around and open a drawer, finding what I need instantly. I take a candle out, lighting it with a match before placing it next to her.
She grins. “I think we are past the romantic dinner part of the evening.”
Way, way past. I grab the glass bottle of oil next to the stove and pour some directly onto her chest. She eyes what I’m doing with curiosity as I massage in the oil, covering her breasts thoroughly. She sighs at the sensual pressure and with a last look at the candle, leans her head back. That’s right. Forget it’s there, trouble.
I finally settle between her legs and slide a finger through her wet heat. Fucking hell, she smells sweet.
“You going to stare at it? Or do you need an engraved invitation?” she snaps.
“Admiring the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen before I wreck it, is me savoring the before and after.”
I have a clue how she enjoys her breasts being played with, but zero on her clit. Good thing I’m a patient and meticulous man. I blow against her curiously, and she cries out. So sensitive. It’s going to be an exercise preventing her from coming too quickly. My thumb strokes the hoop, not her flesh, the warm metal a fun surprise I can’t get over. The small movement sends a tremor running through her body, and my length jumps in excitement. Oh, I am going to have so much fun with that. I wonder what it will feel like when I rub the head of my cock along it. My brain is on board with that, urging me to give in to the fantasy playing out in my head. Not tonight. It’s a mantra I keep repeating, needing to remind my dick and myself that’s not the goal. Not tonight .
My arms wrap around her thighs and lock them in place so she can’t move, but give her a moment to voice any concerns.
“Hunter,” she breathes. The tip of my tongue touches the wetness dripping out of her, and I groan. Heaven. Fucking nirvana. I am done. Nobody else will ever come close to this.
She is mine.
I avoid her clit as I delve a little deeper inside of her, and she clenches around my tongue. Greedy and oh so fucking tight. I make a mental note to make myself come at least twice before being with her. Make it three. I glance up, and she has her hands over her face as she pants. There’s an element of fear riding her, whether it’s because she thinks I can’t make her finish or because I can. Possibly both. I wait until her muscles relax enough to tell me some of the fear has passed. I torment her until she’s practically vibrating underneath me. A few colorful curse words have me snorting in delight as my nose bumps against her clit, keeping her where I want her. I still want this to be something she’s never experienced before, and it will be, given I’m the only man to ever make her come, but I doubt I’m the only one to have ever gone down on her. I want her to look back on this moment as the night she realized she was already a goner.
Unwrapping my arms from around her thighs, I reach up and play with her nipples a little more, a shout of surprise and pleasure escaping her. My palm flattens between the valley of her breasts, and I grab the candle with my free hand. She’s still got her hands over her face. No disconnecting from the moment, Eleanor. I want you right here with me when I tear the stars from the sky and gift them to you.
I put pressure on her chest, lift the candle, and let the wax drip onto her breast. She jerks in surprise as her head snaps up. I keep eye contact with her, continuing to drip the hot wax across her chest. My mouth settles over her clit, and I suck hard as I move the candle directly over her nipple. Her back arches as she comes with a shout. I shove my tongue inside her pussy, groaning as it clamps rhythmically around it. Fuck… she’s going to castrate me. I can’t wait.
She rides out her orgasm that seems to last both forever and pass in no time at all. Her head flops down, her chest heaving as her body shakes. I reluctantly tear my mouth from her and blow out the candle, putting it down beside her.
I can’t keep the very male, very satisfied grin from my face, and I don’t want to. She’s boneless but still moans when I wipe the wax off her skin. I give her a kiss to prove how hard she came on my tongue, knowing she doesn’t need a reminder, then scoop her into my arms and switch the lights off before tucking us both into bed. She sighs in contentment, and I stare at the woman next to me in awe. I can’t believe how sexy she looks right now.
Naked.
Sated.
Mine.