Chapter 21 #2
“Tess.” He gives one side a gentle squeeze, making a sound of his own that makes me less embarrassed about mine. “Is this okay?”
I don’t have the ability to tell him that this is spectacular, that this is fireworks and cotton candy and every good sensation I’ve ever felt, but I manage a nod and a quiet Yes at the very least. Even as the familiar heat and cramps threaten to overtake me, some part of my brain is so fixated on his touch that it almost seems to keep those sensations at bay, even if only a little.
His hair, mussed and wild from where my fingers have been digging into it, is falling in his eyes when he pulls away from me, and his eyes are so dark now they appear almost black as he looks down at my rumpled state.
There’s something about his mouth that seems hungry somehow, a rise and fall of his chest that feels impatient while he looks at me.
“Fuck, Tess,” he rumbles, the tip of his finger reaching to trace the bare skin of my breast that just peeks out from my rucked-up sweater.
“There’s one here.” His head dips to press his mouth there, and my back bows instinctively when I feel warm air kiss at my nipples as he pulls my sweater higher.
“And here.” His tongue flicks along the swell, sucking gently at the spot. “Even…here.”
His tongue is light at first against my nipple, teasing at the spot he’s found before he swirls around the entire thing in a slow circle—but then his entire mouth covers it, sucks it inside, making me moan, and then he just…
keeps going. I can feel him growling against me, actually feel it like a deep vibration that hums along my skin, and my fingers push into his hair again—to bring him closer or to push him away, I really can’t be sure.
It feels so good, I can’t decide what I want.
“Raise your arms,” he urges, turning his head to pay attention to the other side even as he tugs harder at my sweater. “Want this off you.”
And who am I to argue with that, really?
My sweater winds up somewhere across the room, but I have no idea where. Hunter doesn’t really give me time to consider it, since he decides his shirt should join it immediately thereafter, robbing me of all coherent thought.
My fingers skim up the dark line of hair from his navel to his chest. “We should put you on the website. Make some sort of influencer out of you.”
I can make out the dimple in his beard. “I don’t think I’m cut out for influencing.”
“You’re influencing me a whole lot right now.”
“Am I?” He turns his face to let his eyes roam over my naked chest. “Fuck. Look at you.” His hand reaches to curl around my breast, his thumb flicking lazily against my nipple.
I’m vaguely aware that his hand can cover the entirety of my breast with very little spillage, and my boobs are in no way small.
“I thought I was going to lose my mind earlier,” he admits.
“I felt like I was some sort of asshole for being so fucking turned on helping you out of the shower when you were injured.”
“Does it help to know that I probably could have gotten my pants on by myself?”
“You’re gonna kill me.”
I don’t really think that’s a fair accusation, considering a second after he says it, he’s ducking his head again to wrap his lips around one of my nipples, making me cry out.
I can feel a delicious graze of teeth that seems to draw warm pulses from between my legs with every pull, making me unconsciously try to press my thighs together, only to be foiled by Hunter’s leg, which still rests between them.
Hunter seems to remember this too, since I feel one of his hands tickling down my stomach to let his fingers tease the waistband of my pajama pants.
They simply…hover there, not really dipping beneath and not really touching, and he turns up his face to look at me from between my breasts with glazed eyes. “Can I…?”
“Stop asking me for permission and just touch me,” I practically growl, feeling that need swirling inside.
I mean, a girl can only take so much edging, really.
He watches my face as he lets his fingers slip inside the front of my pants, tucking them under the elastic band of my underwear—which I’m remembering have pictures of cartoon kittens holding little fish on them, but I’ll worry about that later.
Right now I’m just trying not to let my eyes cross as I feel the calloused pads of his fingers dip into the already-too-wet crease between my legs.
I bite my lip as he lets the thick length of his index finger part me.
He circles my clit experimentally before he dips lower to do the same thing to the opening, where slick is already starting to stream from me copiously.
“I’m not”—he pushes only hard enough to let the tip of his finger dip inside me, and I feel my skin thrum as I shiver—“prepared. For this.” He looks sort of pained as he says it. “I don’t have anything.”
“I take the pill,” I tell him a bit too quickly.
“Like, religiously. Like, you could set your watch by it. I’m so prepared.
” He cocks an eyebrow at me, but there’s humor to it, and I know he’s silently teasing me.
“Shut up. Not in a weird way. In a totally normal way. And my last panel was all clear. I haven’t been with anyone since. ”
Hunter actually laughs a little. “You’re the first woman I’ve touched in…a very long time. So it’s safe to say the same.”
“It’s been a long time for me too,” I manage. “I mean, not that I’ve ever touched a woman, but—Ah.”
My hips cant upward when he pushes as deep as his finger will reach, twisting a little as he withdraws, only to do it all over again. “You’re so slick for me,” he practically hums. “Tell me how to touch you. I want you to feel good.”
“I mean, you’re off to a stellar start,” I pant. “Oh. Keep doing that.”
He presses the heel of his hand against my clit again, rubbing it slightly as his finger continues to pump in and out of me. When he adds a second, I think I actually shout a little. I can’t be sure, since Hunter chooses then to slant his mouth across mine, swallowing down the sound.
I can feel his cock pressing on my stomach, hard and positively throbbing through the soft flannel of his pants, his hips tilting back and forth a little so he can rub himself against my skin.
It’s a little clumsy, the way I grab at his waistband to try to pull him free, and it definitely takes a second longer than it probably would if his tongue weren’t occupying my mouth and his fingers weren’t occupying…
other places, but somehow I manage to wrestle him out of the confines of his pants to feel the hot, velvety length of his cock as it thumps (yes, I said thumps) against my belly.
There’s already a sticky wetness at the head that dews well above my navel, and my hand is unable to fit around all of him, so I settle for running my palm along the underside before fisting the tip.
His hand stills as I feel his arm shake against me, his entire body shuddering as his lips trip across mine, like he’s forgotten what he was doing. “Don’t—I don’t—Jesus, Tess. I want to come already. I could come all over you.”
Wow, okay.
I love that when he touches me, it’s bye-bye to the quiet, reserved Hunter.
Hello, axe-wielding sex lumberjack.
His head falls to rest on my shoulder as he pulls his hand from my pants, and I whine in protest, which he effectively ignores. When he wraps his fingers around my wrist to pull me away from him, I can feel my own fluids all over his fingers.
“Give me a second,” he grunts into my neck. “I want to be fucking you when I come. I want to feel you on my knot.”
The cartoon wolf inside me is beating the table right now.
It’s howling at the moon. It’s hitting itself over the head with a comical-looking mallet.
Because I want it too, I realize. Desperately.
I haven’t the faintest idea what it feels like to have his knot, but something in my hindbrain is begging to find out.
I squirm impatiently—because let’s face it, I am impatient—shifting my weight to try to entice him to hurry up. My bad foot taps against his and makes me wince during all this, and I hiss out a breath as I mutter a quiet expletive.
“Ow.” I bend my knee to bring my foot off the floor. “My foot.”
“Shit.” He’s already pulling away from me, and now I sort of wish I’d just borne it. “I forgot. Are you okay?”
“It’s fine,” I assure him. “It’s not bad. Don’t you dare stop.”
There’s an impish quality to his grin, making him seem younger, like a hormonal teenager doing something he shouldn’t. “I’m not stopping. We’ll just have to be a little more careful.” His eyes rake up my body hungrily. “This time.”
He’s gentler now when he starts to tug my pants over my thighs, gingerly working them down my legs and over one foot at a time, taking extra care with the one that’s wrapped. He notices my underwear when he comes back for them, cocking an eyebrow up at me as I roll my eyes. “They’re cute.”
“They are,” he agrees. His fingers curl purposefully on either side of them, hooking into the elastic before he looks up at me again. “But they’re coming off.”
Getting my underwear off has me spreading my legs a little to help him, and no sooner am I rid of them than he has his hands running up the insides of my thighs to keep me that way.
He holds me open so he can curl his body and press a kiss right above my crease, brushing his nose back and forth along the soft, neat curls there.
If I weren’t so horribly turned on, I might even be embarrassed.
“If I didn’t need to come inside you so badly,” he says against my core, lowering to give me one broad lick directly up the center with a rumbled sound that seems to come from deep in his chest and has my back arching and my breath catching, “I’d be down here all night.”
“Hunter.”
“Next time,” he promises quietly, pressing one last kiss between my legs before he pushes back up again.