Chapter 18 Please
PLEASE
HUNTER
It’s taking every ounce of patience I have not to bend her over this pool table, flip her dress up, and take her in every way I’ve taken her in my dreams. The second she broke, confident, steady, looking me dead in the eye when she said deal, heat ripped through me so hard, it almost knocked me over.
One night.
If I win, she’s giving me one night without the heaviness of life hanging over us.
A night like before. A solid ball sinks into the corner pocket.
My eyes drag back to her just in time to catch the sway of her hips as she moves three steps toward me.
Her curves, the way she’s pretending she’s not affecting me when she knows damn well she is, it lights something feral in me.
Her gaze never breaks from mine, and I bite down on my lower lip.
She turns back to the table, and when she bends forward to line up her next shot, her dress rides up an inch, just enough to kill me.
Her head shifts, glancing over her shoulder, a smirk playing on those soft lips.
When she focuses back on the shot, she rises on her toes, her ass pressing right into me.
My head falls back, a low groan breaking free. Jesus Christ.
She’s teasing me. Testing me. Torturing me in the sweetest fucking way.
I force myself to step aside, creating space between us. I need to win this game, and if she keeps that up, I’m going to lose all my senses. I’ll crumble right there at her feet and beg her to let me win.
Another ball sinks into the pocket, and a soft giggle slips out of her as she circles the table, following the path of the white ball.
This time, she stands on the opposite side, her eyes in my direct path.
I can’t help but mess with her a little in return.
When her arm draws back, I reach down, adjusting myself—because my dick, straining against my zipper, is actually uncomfortable as hell at this point.
Her eyes snap to my hand, widening, and she smacks the ball too hard.
It ricochets, rolls off its line, and she stumbles into the table as her cue clatters against the edge, missing her shot completely.
“Unlucky, baby,” I chirp, passing her with a smug grin as I set up my first shot.
She scoffs, her cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink. “You distracted me.”
“Like you weren’t distracting me on your first go.” I glance over my shoulder at her. “Two can play that game.”
Planting my feet, I lean over the table and line up my shot. The hairs on the back of my neck stand, a tight swallow working down my throat. I can feel her attention on me, like she’s dragging her nails down my spine without even touching me. I sink the first ball cleanly. Then another and another.
Her breath hitches. I hear it. I fucking feel it.
When I straighten, I look over my shoulder. She’s perched on the tall chair next to the high table, knuckles whitening around the cue pressed between her thighs. Her lips part on a slow inhale, her chest rising.
“Keep staring at me like that,” I say, chalking the tip of the cue, “and I’m going to forget about this bet.”
“Maybe that’s what I want.” She lifts her chin, eyes locked on mine.
Fuck.
I move to the other side of the table, setting up my next shot, but I can’t stop watching her from the corner of my eye. How her dress shifts over her thighs each time she crosses them. The swipe of her tongue over her lower lip. She’s stunning.
My grip on the cue tightens, hands not as steady now. There’s a current of heat running under my skin. I force my focus back on the shot, breathe once, then send the ball rolling. It drops into the pocket.
“Looks like I’m winning.”
Her eyes darken, bottom lip sinking between her teeth as she scans the balls left on the table.
Seconds tick by, and the bar fades into the background.
All I can feel is her. This quiet, reckless confidence, radiating off her in waves.
She circles the table slowly, fingers trailing the rail, and nudges each ball into a pocket one by one.
When she reaches the last ball, she pauses and lifts her eyes to mine.
I hold my breath, waiting, anticipating what she’ll do next.
Her hand slides across the felt, the last ball dropping with a soft thud.
“Look at that.” Her smile curves. “You win.”
“So I have.” I take a slow step toward her, my voice dropping. “Remind me, what is it that I get if I win?”
She closes the distance. Her chin tips up, eyes flicking to my mouth before she answers. “You get to taste me.”
My hand lifts on instinct, skimming the line of her collarbone.
Her breath comes in quickly, warm and wine-sweet against my jaw, as my fingers trace the curve of her breast. She doesn’t move, just watches me.
Goosebumps rise along her skin. Her nipples tighten beneath the thin fabric when my touch drifts down her waist. Heat races down to my core, burning so hot, I have to shift my stance.
When I finally meet her eyes, she’s already looking at me.
“I’m not going to just taste you here,” I murmur, thumb sweeping across the softness of her lower lip. “I’m going to taste all of you.”
She nods, that pretty pink flush crawling up her neck to her cheeks.
“I need you to say it,” I tell her, my voice rough. “I won’t touch you unless you’re sure.”
Her fingers drag through my hair, nails scratching just hard enough to make my jaw clench. She lifts onto her toes, her mouth hovering just below mine, close enough to feel her breath.
“I want you to taste me,” she whispers, heat curling around every word, “and then I want you to beg for more.”
The cue slips from my hand, hitting the floor with a sharp clatter.
My arms hook under her thighs, lifting her in one hard pull as her legs lock around my waist. I carry her to the pool table and set her down on the edge, but she doesn’t loosen her grip; she drags me in tighter, forcing my hips against hers.
I brace my hands on either side of her, caging her in.
Her eyes hold mine with no hesitation. When she arches into me, head tipping back, chest brushing my shirt, I can’t help myself. I dive in like a man starved.
I nip at her neck, slow and claiming, then drag my mouth up the line of her throat.
My lips graze her jaw, and when her head tips back down, I claim her mouth.
She opens for me instantly, and my tongue slides unhurriedly against hers.
When she sighs into me, my breath stutters.
I shift my stance, needing to get closer.
My hands thread into her hair, and pull her in until she’s flush against me.
The kiss is soft, teasing, addictive. A small whimper slips from her, and my dick jumps at the sound.
She tastes like wine and blueberries and every fantasy I’ve ever had of her.
I break the kiss only to give us a second to let the moment sink in. My forehead drops to hers, both of us panting, our hands still holding each other’s faces like we’re afraid to let go.
“Fuck me, baby girl,” I rasp, voice scraping low. “You’re incredible.”
“Hunt,” she breathes, her lips ghosting mine. “I don’t want slow.”
That pulls me all the way back, my eyes meeting hers. “No?”
She shakes her head, nails dragging down the back of my neck as her legs loosen from around my waist. I grab her knees, guiding them up, opening her to me, and the second I catch the thin strip of black lace under her dress, a groan tears out of me.
“You want me to fuck this pretty pussy with my tongue and remind her what she’s been missing?” I murmur.
“If you don’t, I’ll go home and take care of myself,” she says, panting already.
“Well, now…” My thumbs hook under the thin straps of her lace thong, peeling it down the length of her legs. “We can’t have that.”
I drop to my knees, scooting closer, and flip her dress, baring her completely.
Christ. She’s glistening—wet, pink, ready.
A shiver runs through her, and she falls back, landing softly on the pool table.
I guide her legs over my shoulders, her thighs warm against my cheeks.
My nose skims the inside of her leg until I’m exactly where I want to be.
Right at her center. Breathing her in. She lifts her hips, impatient and needy.
My hands grip her ass, holding her there.
Then my tongue darts out, tasting her in one long lick that has her whole body jolting.
She tastes better than I remember. She tastes like heaven.
If I died here, buried between her thighs, I’d go out a fucking happy man.
Her breathy moans urge me on. My tongue flicks over her clit, and her hips lift, chasing my mouth, seeking more.
I hum in approval, the vibration pulling a gasp out of her.
I lose myself in her sweet pussy, licking and sucking until she’s writhing under me.
I look up, and fuck me, she’s a goddamn sight.
Her blonde hair is fanned out across the pool table, hands spread, her back arching as I devour her.
My hands slide down the backs of her thighs, curling around and pushing her legs higher, opening her more to me.
She’s becoming wetter by the second, slick and sweet on my tongue, and I hiss when my cock presses painfully against my zipper.
A wave of heat rolls through me. I shift one of her legs higher on my shoulder and reach down with my free hand, freeing the button on my jeans enough to adjust myself.
My fingers wrap around my cock, squeezing hard to relieve some of the pressure.
If I don’t get a fucking handle on myself, I’m going to come in my pants.
“Hunter,” she moans.
My name on her lips steals the air from my lungs.
My heart beats impossibly faster. I swirl my tongue around her clit before taking it between my teeth and sucking hard.
Her hands fly into my hair, tugging and pulling.
Her whole body tenses, thighs trembling around my head.
She comes so hard, she can’t hold herself still.
“Yes. Yes. Yes,” she cries, rocking into my tongue, riding out every wave of her orgasm.
Pride fills my chest. Watching her come apart like this—because of me—hits somewhere deep. She let go with me. Trusted me enough to lose control in my hands. And fuck, that makes me feel like the luckiest bastard alive.
Gently, placing her legs down, I push myself to my feet, licking the taste of her from my lips.
She’s sprawled out, one arm flung over her eyes, chest rising in quick, uneven breaths.
Her nipples peak through her dress, begging for attention, and I can’t resist. Leaning in, I pinch one between my thumb and finger, rolling it slowly.
She squirms, a satisfied sound spilling out.
Her arm shifts, her eyes hazy and blown wide, finding mine.
A slow, smug smile pulls at my mouth. “Fucking stunning,” I breathe, low and ragged.
Her stare lingers on my lips—still slick from her sweetness—before dropping to the hard line straining against my jeans.
Her mouth falls open with a quiet inhale.
My skin prickles with the heat of her stare, and when she props herself up on her elbows, a wicked glint flashing in her eyes, I know I’m fucked.
“You want some help there?” she asks, her voice dipping low.
Like a starved man, I nod, taking a step toward her.
Before I can take another, her leg snaps out, the heel of her boot pressing firmly to the center of my chest. The contact knocks the breath out of me.
My gaze travels up the line of her calf, the curve of her thigh, and my cock throbs at the thought of her being bare and dripping for me under that dress.
“Beg,” she says, confident as hell.
My fingers curl around her ankle while my other free hand drifts down, wrapping around my aching cock in my jeans. The second her eyes catch the movement, she shakes her head slowly.
“No touching,” she murmurs, her tone commanding.
I instantly raise my hands, surrendering them to her. A low growl of frustration rumbles in my chest, but fuck if I don’t love this. The bold, bossy version of her. The confidence and control. The way she’s stripping me bare without laying a single finger on me.
“Please, baby girl, please, will you touch me?” I beg.
She watches me, and the anticipation thrums through my veins so hard, my vision blurs. Slowly, she sits up, her silky hair spilling over her shoulders. I swallow hard, every muscle in my body going tight as she hops off the table.
“Please,” I rasp, voice cracking around the need.
Her finger trails down my chest, slow enough to make my lungs freeze. I suck in a sharp breath, waiting, hoping.
“You know…” She rises onto her toes, closing the space between us until her lips whisper against mine. “I quite like the idea of making you wait a little longer.”
Her lips brush mine, soft and warm, our breaths mingling before she leans in, deepening the kiss. When I try to chase it, to take control, she pulls back, a wicked smile pulling at her mouth.
“You made me wait long enough,” she says, stepping away. “I think it’s only fair you wait too.”
My jaw drops, and the air leaves me. I fucking love this side of her. By the time I snap out of it, she’s already walking toward the door, her hips swaying.
“Oh, and Hunter,” she calls over her shoulder. “No touching until I say.”
The door swings open, and she slips through it without a glance back, leaving me alone in my own damn bar, straining against my jeans and aching like hell. My pulse rings in my ears, the throbbing near painful, but I won’t touch myself. She gave me a rule.
And fuck me, I’ll follow it.