Page 157 of From Now On

I tighten my inner muscles around his erection, trying to keep him inside of me. My legs wrap around his waist too.

“Fuck, Eve.” His cock twitches inside of me and his hips rock harder into mine.

His hands roam all over my body. All the spots that aren’t normally sensitive—my ribs, my shoulders, my hips—come alive under his touch.

“More,” I beg.

His arm circles my lower back, lifting my pelvis higher and forcing my thighs to open wider.

I moan when he slips even deeper, almost orgasming from that alone.

“This fucking view. Look at you.”

I’m looking athim. Watching his muscles work to fuck me.

He rubs at my clit, and sparks of light dance across my vision. “Your pussy is so tight. It feels like you’re trying to suck the cum right out of me.”

I was barely holding it togetherbeforehe started talking dirty. Now, I’m a breath away from nirvana.

Hunter reaches toward the palette I left out, running his finger through the smear of green.

I crane my neck to watch as he draws a heart on my stomach with the paint. He adds two lines on each side, then several angles and a circle.

And I laugh, realizing they’re stick figures.

“Impressive,” I pant.

“Told you I was talented.”

His hand slides lower, smearing some of the paint, pulling my knee up higher. He hits a deeper spot, and it pushes me past the peak.

He covers my mouth when I start to convulse, which is when I remember that we’re in aschool building.

He also pumps faster, the pace quick enough I can hear the collision of our skin as sweat builds between our bodies. My thighs quiver and my toes curl and my vision blurs.

Hunter kisses me. It’s a messy, wet tangle of tongues, both of us distracted by the pulse of pleasure. I bite his lower lip, and he moans in response.

“I can feel you coming,” I tell him.

The flood of warmth has become one of my favorite parts of sex. It feels like more than usual, already seeping out of me as he continues to thrust lazily. My inner thighs are slick with it.

He groans my name like a prayer.

I don’t let those three little words slip out.

But they’re right there, waiting, on the tip of my tongue.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

HUNTER

AIDAN: Ordering pizza. You guys good with pepperoni?

HUNTER: Yep.

CONOR: Why are you texting? I’m literally sitting two feet away and Morgan is in the kitchen.

Igrin at my phone before nudging the fridge door shut with my shoulder. I tuck a bag of chips under one arm and head back into the living room, taking the armchair since Phillips and Hart are hogging the couch.

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