Page 75 of Sweet Silver Bells
He had been waiting for it, too.
Hunter pulled her jacket buttons open with his teeth as she laughed again. “I will pull every single piece of clothing off of your body using my mouth and my hands any time you giggle like that, when you’re happy.”
“Happy?” Olivia asked, her eyes entertained. “You’re thinking of making me happy while I’m underneath you? I think there would be more pressing thoughts going through your mind.”
“Oh, there are,” he said, smiling and leaning in to place his lips back on hers as they danced a perfect tango—heated, in sync, building with every kiss.
“What are these thoughts?” she asked, coming back up for air, her hands moving to his back as she dug her nails in and slid them down the back of his jacket.
Chills ran through him, from the top of his head down to his feet, and it took everything he had not to pick her up and throw her against the wall. He imagined her moaning, her commanding him to put his hand around her throat as she moaned and writhed, her naked body against his.
He was ready now. He wanted this.
Hunter unleashed himself, giving himself permission to love the woman there before him.
You deserve her.
It felt like a lie still, sand sloshing through his brain as he struggled with the thought.
Maybe not yet, but you will.
“These thoughts are somewhere in the realm of healing more trees, emotionally, of course.”
He was joking; there was a twinkle in his eye that made it obvious. Still, Olivia turned her head and swooned, fluttering her eyelashes, a blush creeping up on her cheeks, her chest flushing, and panted breaths getting quicker as if he were truly courting a damsel from the Gilded Age.
She wants you to have her.
Something hit his back, and Hunter nearly jumped out of his skin, but instead, he held himself strong in his plank, protective of Olivia, who had just stared up with a mischievous grin before sticking out her tongue and licking him from his Adam's apple to the underside of his chin, a playful puppy challenging him and distracting him.
“What was that?” he asked, praying that she saw, hoping that Olivia didn’t smell the fear that slowly eked out from him. It was funny how closely related grief and fear seemed to him at that moment because Hunter had settled into a life of solicitude other than the awe he had lived in around his tree siren.
Olivia only giggled as that something brushed against him again, this time falling over his right shoulder. It was the mistletoe that they had hung around the ceiling. It seemed to have grown again, needing to touch him, needing to touch her as it fell around her arm and tucked around her cheek.
“It likes you,” Olvia said. “It likes that you’re an advocate.”
I’m an advocate for her.Hunter wanted to correct that statement, to clear up the tender moment so that he could refocus on the two of them, so he could peel the boots and pants off of her. Instead, the mistletoe grew longer and caressed hisback again, pulling him down towards her as if they were being tied together with a string.
Before it got too tight, Olivia pushed Hunter up, her hands pressed firmly on his chest with surprising force, as if the mistletoe were holding her up. Hunter looked at the sharp leaves threatening any exposed skin but was flipped over until Olivia was on top, green and red decorating her hair like a crown as it cascaded over her back.
“You are perfect,” he felt the words slip his lips. “I can’t believe you are real. I can’t believe that you’re here with me.”
“I didn’t choose you, Hunter,” Olivia said, her legs straddling over his, her ass rubbing against him. “You chose me, with your song. I told you that before. I would follow you if you asked, if you needed, because you are a part of me as I am now a part of you.”
Hunter raised his eyes immediately to the wall behind him, trying to blink away tears from the pure acceptance.
It was true, though. He had accepted her fully, and she, in turn, had done the same.
You get a second chance, Hunter. You cannot fuck this up.
Olivia pushed the mistletoe off the top of her head, and it fell willingly. There was no tightness; instead, it slackened. She put her hand on his cheek.
“Oh, Hunter,” she said.
He closed his eyes, feeling Olivia’s gentle touch. Her pinky finger pulled enough to open his lips, finding its way inside his mouth as Hunter sucked gently, looking at the woman he knew he would forever worship.
Olivia’s hands moved off of his face, grabbing his wrists and placing his hands underneath her jacket on her breasts before moving her hips again and biting her lip. She put her cheek to her shoulder as if she were about to let her head fall back, asif she were seconds away from howling at the moon from the window.
He was about to burst. The strength and beauty of the creature—the goddess—on top of him, was more erotic than any movie he could watch, memory he could replay, or book he could read. It was a fantasy, and yet it was real. It was very, very real.
