Chapter 13 - Delilah
I don't know what compelled me to kiss Hunter, and perhaps it's my curiosity that begs me to explore this, only to discover that the connection we once shared still thrives through denial.
Perhaps, deep down, I wish he'd just open up to me, and the kiss is a way to let him know that he can, that I'm safe.
Even if my heart isn't safe from being broken by him.
I might regret this later, but the moment his tongue plunges between my lips and explores my mouth, I'm too far gone to stop this from happening.
It feels too good.
It feels like everything I've been secretly pining for, my heart desperate to feel whole again, my soul aching for this connection.
It doesn't matter that we fought just now; it doesn't matter that he won't let me in. For now, all that matters is the way his lips feel on mine, the way he drinks in my essence as if it's his sustenance.
Somehow, we're inside my house, and I'm being pushed up against the door, his ravenous kisses escalating with intensity until I can hardly breathe. He feeds me air through the kiss, and I'm addicted to the taste of his sensual masculinity.
Only a small flicker of doubt keeps me wary, but I push it aside to focus on the kiss. How did we end up here when I swore I'd never let him in again?
Or am I letting him in again in the hope that he lets me in this time?
Perhaps it's that hope that makes me surrender to the current of the kiss, allowing for bodily pleasures to take precedence instead of caring about the repercussions.
The way his hand is fisted in my hair feels too good, possessive, claiming my lips as his own as he kisses me. The sensations washing over me are too addictive to stop, and I suddenly want more than just this kiss.
He stops abruptly, pulling from the kiss with a lewd pop that has me whimpering in protest of the loss of his lips. His eyes, dark and fueled with lust, gloss over, staring into my soul while he licks his swollen, moist lips.
His breath is raspy when he whispers, “That was better than I remember it….”
I grab Hunter's face with both hands, desperate to feel his lips on mine once more. “I know,” I whisper. “Now, shut up and kiss me again before I change my mind.”
Hunter doesn't need to be told twice, groaning into my lips when he reclaims them with a feverish kiss that has my fingers tingling against the light stubble on his jaw.
The heady sensations pool between my thighs, a puddle of warmth oozing from my core into the crotch of my panties when I feel the hardness of his erection pressing into my lower belly.
I'm being lifted off my feet by strong, capable hands cupped on my rear, drawing my thighs around his waist to feel his hot, hard length against my clothed core.
I gasp when I feel his readiness twitching when it nestles in the cavity between my thighs, snugly, silently begging to be buried inside me.
I break the kiss with my breath coming in hot pants, our foreheads connected as I stare deeply into his dark, lustrous eyes. Clinging to his thick shoulders, I feel his muscles flexing under the grip of my nails, biting into his flesh.
“Tell me to stop,” he whimpers, his face contorting with the effort of the restraint he's trying to maintain. But control was never Hunter's strongest suit when it came to me, and I decided to toy with it the way I always did.
“Do you want to stop?” I ask seductively, rolling my hips and gyrating against his hard length.
Hunter groans, the sound strangled as he bites his bottom lip. His Adam's apple bulges when he gulps, and he slowly shakes his head.
“I don't think I can…” he drawls as he crushes his lips to mine, pushing everything on the side pedestal off with one swift movement, clearing the table to set me on the surface as his kisses travel from my lips to jawline, then to my exposed collarbones.
He nibbles my flesh and presses open-mouthed kisses in a trail leading to one shoulder as he pulls the straps of my dress down, his hungry eyes finding mine as if silently asking my permission.
I nod gently in response, my breath catching the moment silk whispers down my chest, exposing my generous mounds.
His sharp intake of breath, coupled with the appreciative glint in his eyes, has my heart skipping a beat, and I push my chest forward, prompting him to behold my breasts with cupped hands.
His grip tightens as he squeezes the mounds that fill his palms perfectly, and the sensation makes me throw my head back with a gasp.
Hunter pinches my nipples between his thumbs and index fingers, rolling the buds between his fingers in a way only he knows how to do. Shockwaves of sensation roll through my body, collecting in my core, where I'm so wet and ready without even being touched there.
My hands automatically slide between the long tendrils of soft, dark waves that touch his ears as he dips his head and latches his lips on one breast. Suckling and flicking his tongue against my erect nipple, he's already peeling the dress further down until it's hitched around my waist.
“Oh, Hunter…” I moan, closing my eyes when more pleasure tightens my tummy and has me pushing my hips forward in a gentle plea to get the dress off all the way.
It's another silent command that Hunter heeds, and he draws the dress off my hips, leaving me seated on the pedestal in only my black lace panties.
His palm flattens on my pelvis as he stands up and reclaims my lips, his kiss feverishly passionate as he applies pressure with his palm and rubs tight circles on my pelvis.
Moaning on his lips, my breath catches when he suddenly hooks a finger at the crotch of my panties, his knuckle brushing my folds as he tugs on the flimsy material, tearing it from my flesh.
The air that brushes me from being exposed is a stark contrast to the heat pulsing at my core, my walls aching and weeping with arousal when his fingertips lightly stroke my folds.
I clench around nothing, my impatience growing when Hunter breaks the kiss and steps back.
He pauses for a moment, reaching out gingerly with his free hand. I grip his wrist and close my lips over his forefinger, keeping my eyes on him as I mimic the way I'd flatten my tongue on the shaft of his cock.
“Dammit, D…” Hunter groans. “You're gonna drive me wild.”
“Is that a warning?” I purr as I release his finger and watch him sink to his knees in front of me, hooking his arms beneath my knees and drawing my legs over his shoulders.
“It depends…” he puckers his lips and blows warm air on my folds, sensing shivers of pleasure through me. “...Are you afraid?”
I gasp when he lightly presses his lips to my clit.
“Afraid? No. Nev—ah!” A loud moan tears from my throat when Hunter suckles on my bundle of nerves, the sensation so intense that I have to grip the edge of the narrow pedestal to steady my quaking body.
When he strokes my folds with skillful ministrations of his fingers, I can barely form a coherent thought, let alone finish my sentence.
And he doesn't stop there.
Those fingers work magic in ways only Hunter can, as if muscle memory recalls every intimate touch, every stroke to bring me closer to the pinnacle.
When he pushes a finger through my core, my walls clamp around the digit, clenching in desperation for the friction.
It comes slowly as he steadily builds up the perfect pace that has me rocking to the rhythm of his finger thrusting inside me and his tongue lapping my juices as he sucks my clit.
I can barely hang on to a semblance of sanity, throwing my head back and relishing in the pleasure as it coils in the pit of my belly, ready to explode.
Hunter senses that I'm near, and curls his finger inside me in the perfect position to tap my G-spot with precision that has me seeing stars behind my eyelids.
My breath catches, and my climax is about to erupt when he removes his finger, clutches my thighs, and lifts me off the pedestal without removing his face from between my legs.
My hands fist his hair as he carries me swiftly across the room, laying me onto the couch as he continues to suck my clit as I climax.
When my back hits the couch, my body quakes with intense waves of pleasure, my hands fisting his shirt to pull him closer.
I need his weight to ground me when it feels like my soul is about to leave my body.
“Hunter…Hunter….” His name falls from my lips like a prayer that's answered only when he lies on top of me, knowing how intense my orgasms are when he eats me out and how desperate I am to feel him on me.
Only once I'm down from the high—barely, but enough to see him staring at me with ravenously dark eyes—I'm already ripping the buttons of his shirt when I grab his crisp white collar.
We're moving in tandem again, this time to remove his clothes until he has to stand to get his pants off.
He can't do it fast enough, his cock finally freed from the restraints and hanging hot and heavy when he comes back to the couch.
He climbs between my legs, taking his thick length in one hand and stroking the swollen tip across my folds.
“Please!” I cry out, whimpering from the torment of not yet being filled by him. Seeing the veiny shaft, the tip drenched with my juices, is enough to make me explode again.
But I need to feel him, I need that delicious stretch when he's inside me, and I part my legs further, pushing my pelvis forward until the tip of his cock catches on my aching hole.
He angles his hips and hooks an arm under my knee, drawing my leg up as he sinks into my depths. I let out a drawn-out breath that escalates into a moan and has me throwing my head back and plummeting into the feeling of utter bliss, wholeness, the stretch so delicious that I'm sighing with relief.