Page 59 of Hunter

“Ouch, you bastard. That hurt!” Mallory complained.

I pressed my hands against the wall on either side of her head and leaned in close.

Her mouth clamped shut, her eyes went wide, and her body pushed back.

“You prefer another man over me?” My voice was low and graveled, my face tight and shoulders squared as I leaned in even closer.

Mallory let out a small squeak, her voice turning into a whisper. “I, uh … wouldn’t say prefer, per say …”

I grabbed Mallory by the arms, dragging her to her feet. She let out a cry of surprise as I moved us until her back hit the shower wall. I went for her shirt, pulling it over her head with ease, followed by that tiny red skirt covered in sugared butter. Next went her bra and panties, and then she stood there, bared to me.

I stood back, letting my eyes slowly peruse her body. When I returned to her face, my eyes locking with hers, she shivered.

“You’d rather another man look at you?”

Her eyes flared. “That’s not what I—”

I hushed her as I stepped forward, reaching for her breasts.

She groaned as I teased a nipple, the cold of the bathroom making it hard between my fingers. When I reached for the other one, she curved her back, practically shoving them toward me.

I leaned down to her neck, alternating between soft kisses and small nips as she moaned beneath me.

“You’d rather another man touch you like this?”

“Hunter,” she whimpered.

I let her go and stepped back.

She looked at me in confusion, but it soon turned lustful as I hooked my fingers into my shirt collar and pulled it off.

Mallory watched with fascination as I moved my hands lower, sliding my belt loose from my waist. Then my boots and socks disappeared. I slid my jeans down my thighs, and Mallory continued to follow the movement. I wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

“You’d rather be looking at another man?” I asked, stepping forward into the shower.

“I … um …” Mallory’s eyes were locked on my hard dick, her mouth trying to form words and failing.

I moved closer until she had to crane her neck back to look up at me. My appendage pressed between her soft thighs, and she started panting hard.

As she pressed her flour-covered hands flat against the tiled wall, I reached to the side, turning the dial.

Mallory let out a gasp as water doused us. Her red hair became heavy, clinging to her face as the baking ingredients washed down the drain. I reached up, threading my fingers into it and grasping tight.

She gasped but didn’t fight. Her pupils dilated, watching with anticipation.

I trailed my free hand down from her breasts and over her mound where her lips were wet with her juices and swollen with need. I slid a finger through them back and forth, brushing her clit until Mallory was practically rubbing herself against me.

“You’d rather have another man stroke this pussy?”

“Hunter,” she whined, grabbing my bicep and squeezing.

I began to circle her clit until Mallory’s thighs began to quiver. Then I stopped, moving my finger down until it was pushing against her entrance.

“You want another man inside you?”

“Hunter, please,” Mallory begged, her half-lidded eyes looking up at mine.

“Tell me who you want, Mallory,” I growled, moving the tip of my finger around her core. “Tell me.”

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