Page 85 of Hunt Me

Chapter 20

Tori

The orgasm shatters me. It’s almost embarrassing how easily I come considering we didn’t actually have sex or even remove our clothes. But his gaze is unwavering even after I’ve quieted. And he still hasn’t removed his hand from where it rests against my clit.

It’s like he refuses to give me the space I need to collect myself. In fact, I get the distinct impression he might not be finished with me yet.

“That was…”

I don’t know how to finish. Mostly because I can’t bring myself to compliment him even now. Because, in this moment, I want to do more than compliment him. I want to open for him, let him protect me, take care of me. Maybe it’s not a matter of wanting. Maybe I just don’t know how.

As predicted, he smirks in triumph. “Yes?”

“A surprise.”

His smile widens. Still, he doesn’t take his eyes off me. It’s unnerving the way his gaze leaves me nowhere to hide. Heat pulses between my legs, wanting round two. Wanting nothing between us when I come again.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I want to kiss you,” he says quietly. “Very, very badly.”

“Oh.” My breath hitches, and I find myself studying his mouth.

The full lips. Thick stubble. I reach over and slowly slide my glove back on. He watches, silent, as I lift my hand and run my gloved fingers over his cheek.

His eyes darken with a lust I can feel building all over again inside me. His fingers move against my clit. I run my hand along his jaw and over his mouth. He makes a sound like a growl and nips at my fingertips then presses his lips to my gloved palm.

It’s erotic but also incredibly sweet, and I find myself fighting the urge to peel my clothes off for him. My poisoned skin has been my armor, but suddenly, it’s a barrier too.

As if he’s trying to torture me, he steps back and peels off his shirt. Then he returns to where he stood before, leaning closer than is safe. His fingertips brush my clit again, and I nearly purr in pleasure.

With his other hand, he grabs my gloved wrist and presses my palm to his now-bared skin. Slowly, I run my hand over his broad chest and rippled abs, tracing the dragon tattoo that covers half his chest and biceps. He shudders beneath my touch, and, for the first time since we met, I realize I hold just as much power over him as he does over me.

It's thrilling.

In this moment, I can’t remember my reasons for not wanting him. Or for hating him at all. The death dragon is mine to command. Mine to pleasure.

Slowly, almost lazily, his hand starts to move against me again. Despite my orgasm from a moment ago, I grit my teeth against the frustration of wanting another one. No, not just another orgasm. His body touching mine. His fingers inside me. His cock?—

“What are we doing?” I whisper.

I expect him to answer snarkily about testing one another. Instead, he surprises me by speaking earnestly. “I want to help you break this curse. And then I want to make you come with my bare hands over and over and over again.”

He watches me, his expression tense with a concentration that makes it hard for me to think or even breathe.

“Will you let me help you?” he asks.

“I…” My thoughts are jumbled. I try to think past the distraction of his body. Gods, he’s beautiful, though. And the delicious torment of his touch, even through the fabric of my clothing, is enough to make me agree to almost anything.

His eyes flash, the dragon slits peering back at me for a blink before they become once again human irises. “What was that?” I ask.

“My beast is very close to the surface,” he admits.

“Because of the moons?”

“Because he wants to protect you.”

“You…you call yourself a shadow beast,” I say. “What exactly does that mean?”

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