Page 81 of The Hunted
“You sure?” He threw the stack of papers he’d been reading on the coffee table. “I don’t want you to get behind on your work.”
“Me?” She closed the laptop. She wasn’t writing today. “What about you? Don’t you have like….” She pointed to the TV. “People are being killed.”
“And I have a team, plus me. Besides, we’ve debriefed and gone over everything in the office. If I sit there any longer, the walls would close in.” He let out a breath.
His hold on her ankle loosened, but there was still a possessiveness to his touch. It was such a contrast to how he behaved when they first met. He’d been so unsure she wanted his hands on her, and now that they’d been together, he couldn’t seem to get enough of touching her skin.
It made her feel desired and protected. Secure in a way that felt foreign to her.
In a way I’m sure this will slip through my fingers.
“Sometimes I need space away from other people to hear things I might miss in the chatter. I used to be good at picking up things in a full room. But as I’ve gotten older sometimes sitting in nature or coming here for the quiet helps me think.”
“But it’s not exactly quiet here, Santino. I’m tapping away on my keyboard and humming half the time.” It was how she concentrated when she wrote. “Plus, you’re watching the news.” She’d been fascinated watching him work.
He seemed to read through everything twice, never taking notes, but she could see him filing away information and working through whatever he read. His eyebrows would pinch together, and every so often a muscle in his jaw would tick. When he was touching her, his fingers would either tap against her skin or draw circles. A few times he’d drawn out numbers once she realized the pattern. She wasn’t sure what those tells signaled, because she had no clue what he was actually looking at, but she wondered if he knew he had little tells.
Santino grabbed her laptop and placed it on the coffee table, and within the next breath he was tugging her across his lap. His hands squeezed her hips before they slipped down to her bare thighs. She was wearing loose shorts and one of his hoodies, which was swimming on her. She wasn’t wearing any undergarments, and feeling the hard plains of his body against her own made her feel all gooey inside.
“Hi,” she whispered, still wondering how they seemed to fit so perfectly together. How he had the ability to make her hungry for sex with him.
“Hi.” His eyes dipped to her lips. She felt his hands inch their way up her shorts. Her breath hitched and his deep chuckle made her shift closer to him. “I love what my touch does to you. All that sass and those sharp claws melt from your body.” He kissed her jaw. “A feral kitten, but in my hands she purrs.”
His thumbs stroked her inner thighs, too far from where she wanted his touch to be. She let out an impatient whimper. She’d forgotten what they were talking about. She only knew what her body wanted, and it was currently underneath her, teasing her to a dizzying madness.
“Have you finished writing out what you wanted?” he asked. She drew back a little confused. Her brain was foggy between the touch of his hands and the feel of his cock pressing into her.
“Didn’t I tell you to write down how you want me to fuck you, so next time I take you we can do it that way?”
“Oh,” she dropped her head. The way he uttered the wordsfuck youfelt like a lightning strike across her body. He always uttered it with a rawness that stole her breath. Both because it felt like he was still shocked by his feelings for her and because of how his need bled into those two words.
“I did,” she mumbled. Her head snapped back, his hand was in her hair, making her look at him. “I did.” She repeated the words, louder but still breathless. She couldn’t fathom how easy it was for him to take control and how it made her float.
“And I haven’t seen it yet because?” he questioned, already switching his grip back on her hips. He was lifting them up and moving toward the bedroom. She’d been here for over a week—neither one wanting to be apart, though she had a feeling his need came from what was going on outside with the serial killers.
She just liked the comfort he brought her and wanted to soak it all up before it left her.
Like it always did.
“Princess.” His tone was lethal as he dropped her on his mattress. She didn’t have a chance to get up before both her wrists were being tied to the headboard.
“When did you get these?” she whimpered, almost hating how soaked she was getting.
“I picked up a few things, but don’t change the subject. Why didn’t you give me what you wrote?” he asked, running his fingers down her legs, before one ankle was wrapped in a soft cuff. She looked down and saw the bar attached to the cuff and swallowed when he did the same to her other ankle.
“I didn’t want you to see.” Her heart was in her throat at how vulnerable this position left her in. She could tell him she wasn’t into this but it would be a lie. There was a swarm of something in her stomach causing it to tighten. Her core throbbed. The phantom feeling of him inside of her had her whimpering. She could feel the wetness seeping out of her and coating the upper part of her inner thigh.
Santino walked toward one of his dressers. She heard him rummaging around, her mind spinning at what else he’d gotten for her.
“I think I’m the only one who actually sees, princess.” He turned around wearing black gloves and he was carrying a black bag.
Her pulse was racing as she took him in. He was bare-chested and had on grey sweatpants. The outline of his cock made her mouth water. She realized in this position he could do whatever he wanted to her and she had no choice but to take it.
“You already know, don’t you?” Her skin flushed. The heat of embarrassment and feeling misunderstood filled her body.
Santino shook his head. “I have an idea and I think this is part of it. But you want something else too, don’t you?” He walked back over to the bed, putting the bag on the nightstand. He fished out a pocketknife. Silva swallowed even as her desire rose.
“You can tell me.” He kneeled on the bed. “I won’t judge. I may not understand everything but,” he shrugged, “humans like what they like. We all have our own desires, needs, and wants.” His gaze was on the knife. “I’d suspect you wouldn’t judge me for mine, or maybe you would. Society would for sure, but I think we’re the same. At least a part of you is and that’s the part I want to enjoy too.”
