Page 156 of From Now On

My head falls back from the first brush of his fingers along my underwear. The hit of pleasure is so sudden and powerfulit’s almost dizzying. All thoughts flee from my mind, smooth like sand after a wave washed the grains flat.

“You’ve turned me into a sex addict,” I tell him.

It’s true. I had no idea this level of physical desire—ofneed—existed.

“Well”—the tone of Hunter’s voice is wry—“there are worse things to be addicted to.”

“Right.” Mine is apologetic. I didn’t mean to remind him about Sean. “There are.”

Hunter tugs on one of my curls with his other hand. He touches my hair a lot, I’ve noticed. I’ve started wearing it down more often, hoping he will. “As long as it’s just with me.”

He’s teasing, a little, but he’s also serious.

And I’mveryserious when I reply, “It is.”

Too serious, maybe. Now that I’ve realized I love Hunter, it feels like maybe that’s stamped on my forehead or something. Obvious insomeway, when I look at him.

“You ever have sex on campus before?” he asks me.

Until now, the concept had not really occurred to me. My world narrows to Hunter when we’re in the same place. I completely forgot that we’re in a school building. In my broom closet with a door that locks, but still.

“No,” I answer, in a way that suggests it should have been obvious. I may be trying to be more impulsive and adventurous, but I’m still a rule-follower at heart. “Have—have you?”

“No.” His lips move to my neck, sucking gently on the skin there. I’ll have a hickey in the morning. “Is it on your list?”

“I could add it.”

His pelvis presses into mine, the hard, hot ridge of his erection nudging my inner thigh.

I tug his button-down out of his waistband, impatiently pulling the buttons open until his chest is exposed. I drag myfingernails down his pecs and over his abs, running a teasing finger back and forth along his waistband once I reach it.

His hands land on the backs of my thighs, erasing all the distance between our lower bodies. I whimper, the pulse between my thighs a second rapid heartbeat.

I squeeze them tight together as I rise on my tippy-toes. My tongue swipes along the curve of his collarbone, then I scrape my teeth on the same spot.

“I can handle it, Hunter.”

His fingers bite into the backs of my legs so hard I’ll probably have bruises. “Tell me if it’s too rough.”

“I will,” I promise.

He releases me and then spins me around, pressing a palm flat on my back until I’m bent over the stool I sit on to paint. My hair falls over my shoulders, partially covering my face.

I can’t see Hunter, and that makes the quick tug of him pulling my shorts and underwear down especially erotic.

I gasp, feeling the cool air hit the wetness that’s gathered. I clench around nothing, trying to alleviate a little of the ache.

I barely register the feel of his cock at my entrance before he thrusts without any hesitation, filling me with one stroke. He drags his dick out slowly, so slow I can feel every ridge, and then fills me fast again.

Arousal flows through me like an endless cascade of water.

I’m pinned in place, the press of the stool against my stomach all that’s keeping me from collapsing. I have no leverage in this position. I’m entirely at Hunter’s mercy. He’s controlling everything—the angle, the speed, the depth.

And I love it. I’m completely relaxed, letting him use my body however he wants and enjoying every second.

He pulls out and flips me on my back. I arch so the stool doesn’t dig into my spine, and Hunter’s heated gaze lands on my breasts. He yanks my shirt up and the left cup of my bra downuntil my breast pops free. He palms it, rolling my nipple between two fingers.

I suck in a sharp breath, then cry out when he thrusts inside of me again.

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