Chapter 8
EIGHT
SYLVIE
The moment his mouth finds mine again, my belly tightens with the pressure of a building climax.
The gentle thrusts of his hips contradicts the hot and heavy warnings he’d given me, the dirty words that’d felt foreign in the moment but added to the heat of our exchange.
Although I’d expected him to fuck me with the same rage he’d fingered me, there’s a reverence in the way he holds me now, like if he does what he wants, I might break.
Maybe I do. Maybe I want to fall apart.
The idea of rough sex always gave me pause. Not because I think I’m breakable, but because no man has ever made me feel safe enough to wonder if it could be good or I’d enjoy it. The wrong man could put you off for life.
But strangely enough, even though he should be the wrong man—he says one thing, but shows me another, contradicts himself while also showing me a side of him I don’t think he gives anyone else—I don’t believe he is anymore.
And I want more of the side of him that can make me feel safe while he makes me explode.
I tear my lips from his and gasp. “I thought you were going to fuck me like I deserve, old man,” I say, finding his stare. “I thought you knew by now I need a little more than slow and gentle.”
The corner of his lips tick upwards in a smile as he pauses his slow ministrations. “Here I thought you might want the princess treatment, vixen.” He lifts himself a little higher and grabs a pillow. “Lift your hips.”
I do as he commands and push up, allowing him to slide the pillow beneath my ass. When it’s situated, I lower again, the new angle hitting something almost perfect.
Hunter chuckles darkly, his thumb moving to my clit. Our eyes connect, and he doesn’t give me a chance to make a sound as he slams into me.
The first thrust takes me by surprise, eliciting a moan. But the second has stars dancing behind my eyes. The added pressure of his thumb circling my clit makes me tremble as pressure builds inside me.
Hunter plants his other hand, hot and calloused, against my hip. “Fuck, you feel amazing,” he growls, keeping a fast, hard pace. “Don’t come yet.”
I fist one of my breasts, tweaking the nipple, smirking as his gaze flickers to the movement. “You’re going to have to try harder than that, old man.”
The sound that reverberates through him is animalistic at best, but it spurs him on. He somehow changes the angle again and applies more pressure to my clit. Something sparks in his stormy eyes as he lowers his face to mine and grunts, “Come.”
I don’t know what comes over me, but I follow his command and explode.
His mouth swallows my cry, but he doesn’t give me any chance to get over it, maintaining the same hard, fast pace.
Each stroke of his cock inside me builds another orgasm, and every tweak of his fingers on my clit has me shaking beneath him.
His mouth leaves mine for one of my breasts, and he clamps his hot lips around the icy nub. The flick of his tongue against it, as well as the already growing pressure inside my belly, has me arching into his powerful body.
I lock my legs around his hips, rocking into each thrust. It doesn’t take long before his cock twitches and his strokes sputter.
When Hunter comes, he pulls away from my breast, takes hold of my waist, and slams his release into me.
I feel every hot spurt of it as he grinds his pelvis into mine, and it’s enough to have me falling over the edge again.
Hunter bows his head, chest heaving with each harsh breath he pulls in. I can’t stop myself from panting or trembling, pressing into the bed beneath me as I try to clear my head from the fuzziness of two back-to-back orgasms.
And then I laugh.
Hunter’s head whips up, his nostrils flaring. Quickly, I clamp a hand over my mouth.
“Something funny to you?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No,” I say against my hand. “Not at all.”
His dark eyes narrow. “So, why are you laughing?”
Finally, I drop my hand and grin. “This was not how I expected today to turn out.” Honestly, I was prepared to borrow a flannel and his sweatpants, make him drive me to my house, and only see him again when it was time to talk to accounting about the fundraiser.
I realise now it would have been painful, leaving him behind, putting up the barrier of coworkers between us again.
But I would have done it if it meant protecting myself from disappointment and heartache.
“That so?” he asks, pulling the pillow out from beneath me despite still being inside me.
I huff as he tosses it to the side, biting down on a moan as he plants his hands on either side of my head. “Yes.”
Hunter quirks a brow. “Tell me, Sylvie. How did you think today would pan out? You thought you’d be able to run away?”
I swallow thickly as I wind my arms around his shoulders. “Well, I definitely didn’t think you’d barge into the bedroom while I was getting changed,” I admit, feeling my cheeks heat at the weight of his stare and how it softens. “And I didn’t think you’d follow me after…” After my outburst.
I suppose I’m used to not being followed. Not being cared about. And although I wouldn’t say I’m not loved—I have two overbearing big brothers who love me in their own ways, so there’s no issue there. But outside of family?
No one has cared enough to chase me. No one has ever given me the amount of consideration Hunter has.
Of course, how we…came together probably is less desirable, but thinking about how his anger and frustration made him devolve into claiming me is liberating in a way.
This quiet, brooding, cautious and responsible mountain of a man chased me in here and came undone.
There’s something empowering about that, about knowing it’s because of me he finally let go.
Hunter somehow remains completely inside me as he rolls us so I’m lying atop him. Although his dick is still at attention and buried deep in me, I am not rearing to go another round with him, and I don’t think he is, either. There’s a quiet peace surrounding us I don’t want to break.
“I’d follow you anywhere, Sylvie, and that’s what’s terrifying,” he murmurs into my hair. “I think that’s why I complain so much.”
His words make my heart skip a beat. The weight should terrify me, but it doesn’t. I know I should be worrying about how quickly we went from disliking one another to hot and heavy sex, but I think it was the natural progression of our relationship. All the tension culminated in this moment.
It’s what happens next that has me worried.
A small nap leads to a much-needed hot shower to wash away the smell of sex from our bodies. My entire body tingles as Hunter suds me up, rubbing his woodsy, masculine soap all over me.
I take this as my opportunity to really get a good look at him. The man might be nearing forty, but he doesn’t look it—except for the peppering of silver through his dark hair and beard. The way his body moves, how his muscles shift—it’s almost impossible to think he’s thirteen years older than me.
And he definitely doesn't feel it.
His laugh draws me out of my thoughts as he brings a washcloth to my stomach. “Careful, vixen, or I might think you want me to bend you over.”
My cheeks warm, but I don’t let him get to me. “Oh, I know you won’t.”
Hunter raises a brow, something in his expression telling me he’ll take the bait and do it. I’d be tempted if it weren’t for the pleasant ache between my thighs.
Thankfully, he doesn’t take the challenge and instead shakes his head. “After this, I’m thinking breakfast.”
I hum under my breath as I turn towards the water. “Oh?”
“I make a mean waffle,” he explains, voice low. “Though I wouldn’t blame you if you were already…full.”
I press my thighs together as the reminder of how much he’d…well, filled me earlier springs to mind. The leakage would have been embarrassing if it weren’t for the fact he’d seemed so proud of it.
Instead of responding, I tilt my face to the water.
“There is something else I have a hunger for,” he whispers just loud enough for me to hear, arms wrapping around me.
I shiver in his embrace and lean into it. Today is full of surprises I never expected.
And I’m not sure if I should feel hopeful about what it could all mean.
Or if it’ll last.