Page 37 of Hunter

“Pretty much.”

“Fuck, that’s hot,” I say. “Follow me.”

I leave the lounge behind, heading down the short hallway to my room, and unlocking the door with the keycard. It closes behind us with a lightthunk.

His hands reach for me in the dim light, pulling me back against him. I can feel his cock, rigid and straining, behind the fly of his pants. He presses his hands flat against my pelvic bones, pushing me against him, into him. Then, gliding beneath my tank top and over my stomach, his fingers find the front clasp of my bra and flick it open.

I sigh as my breasts are freed, as he cradles their weight in his palms, his thumbs rubbing over the already-erect nipples. As I lean my head back against his shoulder, his lips find mine. He sweeps his tongue into my mouth, claiming it like a starving person, like a man who hasn’t kissed anyone since the last time he—

“Hunter,” I ask, placing my hands over his to still them.

“What?” His teeth bite the lobe of my ear before he sucks the tender skin between his lips.

I gasp softly, trying to remember what I was about to say.

Oh! Right.“You’ve, um…been with other women…since we were together…right?”

“Does it matter?” he asks.

Does it matter?I ask myself.

Not waiting for an answer, Hunter slides his hands from my breasts to the waistband of my shorts. He twists the buttonopen, then pulls down the zipper. His hand slides down, over my panties, cupping my sex.

“You’re soaked, Bella.”

“I know.”

“You want this.”

“I do.”

But I also want to know if he’s been with anyone else since we were together. I don’t know why it matters, but my head—and my heart—insist that it does.

“Hunter…”

“No,” he whispers, nuzzling my ear before biting it again. At the same time, he repositions his hand, slipping it under the elastic of my panties. His middle finger slides unerringly into the slit that hides my clitoris, and I gasp with pleasure as the digit rolls over the slick nub. “Since you…no one else.”

I swallow, leaning my head back against his shoulder as my knees grow weak. I want to process this information and what it means for me, and him, and what’s happening between us all over again. But his finger rubs in circles, then long strokes, building my orgasm with every flick, every gentle slide.

When I cry out, his free hand reaches for my jaw, and he turns my face so that my lips collide with his. He eats my climax. He swallows my moans and cries. My knees threaten to buckle, and he feels it. He moves his other arm under my breasts, the smell of my cum on his fingers as he holds me tightly against him.

“Fuck me,” I demand, pushing my shorts and panties over my hips. They pool at my feet, and the cool air in the room suddenly kisses my cunt.

“Get on the bed,” he tells me, his voice gruff.

It’s only two steps to the bed. One knee bends, then the other. I crawl toward the headboard. I know he’s got his eyes glued to my ass. I can feel the heat of his stare. I revel in it.I could come all over again picturing how exposed I am and knowing that he’s watching me.

I’m still on all fours, but behind me, I hear him undressing. A shirt pulled over his head reveals the memory of his cut abs. The sound of his zipper being lowered reminds me of the many times I unzipped him, taking him into my mouth the second he was bare. I hear the rest of his clotheswhooshto the floor, like a whisper, like a promise.

He’s naked.

Though I’ve already climaxed once, I feel my next orgasm building. It swirls within me, chaotic and demanding.This chemistry.This pyretic fucking heat I can only seem to generate with the man standing behind me. It’s terrifying. It’s dizzying.

“Shirt off,” he instructs me, his voice gravelly and low. “Now, Bella.”

I sit back on my haunches, still facing away from him, and raise my arms over my head.

“You do it,” I say, my body all but aching for his touch.

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