Page 32 of Demon Hunter

“Hurry up,” he says, stroking his cock as he lies back on the bed. The covers are already on the floor—I must have missed that while I was thinking about how beautiful he is. “I’ve been all pent up forweeks, Matty. It’s not like I was going to get myself off while you were in a coma.”

“Aww, you really love me,” I tease, kicking away my pants and striding toward him. “That should be a question in those magazine relationship quizzes: Do you think he’d jerk himself while you’re in a coma? If yes, dump him.”

He laughs and pulls me down for a kiss. “You’re so weird. Please don’t ever—” He stops, and I try not to flinch. We both know I can’t promise not to get hurt again. My job makes that impossible.

I don’t know what to say that could make this moment better, so I kiss him again, harder, trying to put all my feelings into it. I need him to know that I’ll always do everything I can to come home to him.

It only takes a few seconds for me to forget about my job and the coma and get lost in everything that’s Dylan. His mouth is hot and greedy, and his hands are everywhere, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Suddenly, I don’t care that my dick isachingly hard and desperate to get inside him—right now, the urge to worship him is stronger than anything.

I start with his neck, laying kisses down the side and then along his collarbone, pausing to lick his Adam’s apple for no reason other than to taste his skin. It bobs under my tongue, and his breathing picks up.

Next, I work my way down the center of his chest, taking my time and lavishing attention everywhere. By the time I reach his nipples, he’s already starting to squirm.

“Matty,” he whines. “C’mon. It’s been forever.”

I lick his left nipple, then blow on it. It’s already hard, but the shiver that racks him is like a stroke directly to my cock. I love seeing him react to me. Love that I can do this to him.

“Patience is a virtue,” I murmur, going in for the next lick.

His combination laugh/groan makes his chest vibrate under my mouth. “Please. We both know I have more patience than you.”

I glance up at his face with a smirk. “Prove it.”

Conflict plays out in his expression. He’s horny and wants me to fuck him but saying that would mean admitting he doesn’t have as much patience as me. Which, honestly, isn’t true—I’m usually the one who can barely wait.

Finally, he huffs and drops his head back on the pillow. “Fine. Take your time. You’re not going to win.”

Smiling, I nip his nipple and make him cry out. “Pretty sure we’re both going to win in the end.”

I probably shouldn’t have taunted him, because Dylan takes that as a challenge, and suddenly his hands are on me, one stroking across my shoulders and the back of my neck, the other buried in my hair, directing me… controlling me.

And then he starts with the words of encouragement. “Mhm, Matty… again. Yeah. Just like that.” His voice has gone low andhusky. “You know how much I like nipple play. Remember that time you made me come this way? Bet you can’t do that again.”

This shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but I love when Dyl decides to be mouthy in bed.

I ramp up my efforts, teasing the sensitive buds on his chest until he’s whimpering, his hips thrusting frantically against me… which is when I stop and sit upright, pulling away from his grasping hands.

It takes him a second to comprehend the sudden lack of stimulation. His eyes open, pupils blown. He’s beautiful, his lips wet and parted as he pants, color high on his cheekbones.

“I’m going to pass on that bet,” I say, sounding a little rusty already, and I haven’t even put my throat to work yet. “I have something else in mind.”

He glares. “I’d hate you if I didn’t love you so much.”

I blow him a kiss. “Love you too, boo.” I bend again, but not to his nipples. My target this time is a lot lower.

His cock is hard and pulsing, the dampness at the head testament to how close he was to coming. I lick it away, enjoying the bitter salt tang, and he exhales explosively. “Still want me to play with your nipples?” I ask, my mouth moving against the silk-over-steel of his dick.

“I swear to god, Matt, if you don’t?—”

I choose that moment to wrap my lips around him and slide down his shaft the way I have a million times before. The size and shape of him is so familiar, the sensation of him in my mouth like coming home. His hand comes back to tangle in my hair, his low keening sound music to my ears. He won’t last long, not after how close I brought him, but that’s okay. We have all night.

Forever.

I pull back, then take him deeper, the head of his cock pressing past my tonsils and into my throat. The muscles of histhighs tense, so I hold for a five count, the thrill of having the man I love tremble for me greater than any other high could be, then slowly draw back again, maintaining a tight seal.

His breath hitches.

I press my tongue to the sensitive spot below the head, and he explodes, hips arching up, a cry torn from his throat.

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