Page 73 of The Hunted
She groaned his name again. His eyes flashed to her face. Those mismatched eyes filled with need, wild hunger, and something he couldn’t understand. “I love the way you say my name.” He blew a breath against her clit. “Your accent is peeking out again too.” He dove in for another taste, humming low in his throat.
She climaxed twice since he had her on her back. It all but pushed his cum out of her, but there was still some left. He dove in again for more and once he felt both his cum and hers on his tongue again, he reared up, reaching for her neck and pulled her in for a kiss.
Her tongue swiped against his own, and she groaned when he fed her the mixture of them. She bit into his bottom lip. “Fuck me, again.” She gripped his shirt. “I need you inside of me, Santino. Now.”
He chuckled against her mouth. “You don’t call the shots, princess.” He pulled away. “Unless you want to beg me.”
He pulled his shirt off. The damn clothing was getting heavy. He hated that they were still in the locker rooms, but he hadn’t wanted to take the time to get redressed and go home to get undressed.
Her eyes greedily took in his bare chest. Her fingers reaching for the scars he had across his stomach and right peck. “Are these knife wounds?” she whispered, leaning forward to place a kiss on each one. It rocked him to the point he almost fell on top of her.
No one got to see his scars. They were scars he had no stories for. They’d been there since his time with his guardian. He had scars on his back too. They looked like whip marks. There were scars on his wrist that his tattoos covered; he had no clue who put them there.
“Is this all from the job?” Her brows pinched. She chewed on her bottom lip as her fingers trailed across all the marks on his upper body. Her touch was gentle. It felt like she was cracking him open and slipping inside of him.
She had already burrowed underneath his skin—he couldn’t quite understand how. But touching him like this felt like she was burying herself farther into his system—pouring into the blood that coursed through him. He should put a stop to this—but he wouldn’t.
Santino shook his head and her fingers paused. Her eyes widened, taking up most of her face as she looked up at him. “Is any of this from the job?”
He shook his head again. There were some scars he got in his teenage years when his guardian was teaching him ways to take down his prey. There were a few scars on his forearms when his marks had fought back and thought to leave his DNA behind when they found the body. But he’d been smart enough to clean under their fingernails or cut their hands off.
“Oh, Santino.” She surged up, grabbing his face and pulling him to her lips. “What have you been through?” she whispered against him.
He didn’t want to talk about it but only because he had no clue. His past after a certain point was a void of nothingness. He had snapshots of memories. But he wasn’t sure they even belonged to him and not the victims he found through his work.
But there was some part of him, the one that had the urge to kill, that wished he knew his past, his history. It would have given him the knowledge he sought to deal with the Reaper and give him insight as to why he was the way that he was.
And it would probably bring him closer to Silva.
She bared her scars and knew the reason behind them. He was baring his, and he felt hollow.
Silva wrapped her arms around him and pressed her very naked body into his chest. He wrapped his own arms around her, pulling her closer. “If I remember correctly,” she nipped at his lips, “you told me you’d put me on my knees, did you not?”
Santino growled low in his throat, torn between kissing her bow-shaped lips and wanting to see his cock between them.
“Didn’t you say,” she licked his lower lip, and pulled back. “Didn’t you say, ‘I can praise you later when you put me on my knees and fuck my sweet mouth’?”
Santino dropped his head against hers and groaned. He had been hard since he came inside of her, and as much as he wanted to fuck her again, the idea of letting her lips wrap around his cock made his blood rush.
He knew instinctively it would be good because it was her. She’d be the one to change his mind about oral sex. Some self-preservation he thought he’d thrown out finally kicked in. Once she got her lips on him, he feared he’d be addicted to it.
And then I’m not going to want to do anything else.
“You don’t have to, princess.” He lifted his head, still blown away by the colors in her eyes. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to how vivid each eye was. He pushed her hair away from her face, the strands starting to dry to the point she had a few curls. He wanted to pull on them just to watch them spring back. A new fixation for him to develop when it came to her.
“And if I want to?” She shifted off his lap, settling in between his legs. Her own hands reached for the top of his jeans and he let her, even though he was content to just sit with her like this.
“Stand up, Santino.” He did as she commanded. “Can I take your jeans off?” He nodded because his voice had deserted him when he looked down at her.
Fuck.
He wasn’t going to survive anything when it came to her.
He shucked his jeans, thankful to get the damn things off. Wet denim was not a good time. He stood barefoot with just his boxer briefs on. He watched her small hands reach for the hem of his briefs and pull them down far enough to let his cock spring free.
Silva made a throaty sound that had him rocking forward. “I knew you were thick. I’ve never been stretched out the way you stretched me, but seeing it after feeling it inside me,” she whispered, wrapping her hands around him, “I don’t know if I want you to fuck my face or my pussy more.”
“Fuck. Me. Princess.” Santino’s hand shot out, hitting the lockers to keep him on his feet. He saw the pre-cum slip from the tip of his dick. Silva’s pink tongue swiped out to catch.
