Page 78 of Sweet Silver Bells
“Mmmm,” a deep guttural groan escaped his lips, and he pulled up for air. She was insatiable, unquenchable, and he ate up every flick of her wrist, every touch that started tender and then turned into a hard, pulsing grip.
Hunter got Olivia’s panties lower and slid up her thighs with his length, feeling a slickness there already waiting for him.
He had had enough of his pep talks, of his internal dialogue, and would take what he wanted, what was being freely given, gifted. With that speed he’d found earlier, Hunter took Olivia’sfull ass in his hands and hiked her up, her legs wrapping around his torso as their lips found each other over and over again.
His feet moved back, stepping on mistletoe but ignoring the sharp pain and the fresh blood he left on the floor before he walked into the hallway, hips, shoulders and elbows banging into the wooden walls as Olivia moaned and writhed on top of him, finding his dick in between her thighs right against her entrance.
They pushed through the doorway, entering his room as he threw her down on the bed. She squealed and smiled from the sudden playfulness, her legs hanging off the bed with her toes pointed. Hunter had been waiting for this. He was going to get so many answers as he stood between those pointed toes and moved down to his knees, grabbing her thighs and pulling her toward him.
21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.
The dark green sheets clung to Olivia’s skin like moss to bark, wrapping around her limbs as she twisted and arched beneath his weight. She reached for them instinctively, grabbing fistfuls of the bedding like she needed to hold on to something real. Her hands fisted near her ribs as her chest heaved, and she let out a sound—half gasp, half squeal—that went straight to his blood.
This was new. All of it.
Her.
Him.
Together.
And she bloomed.
Hunter knew she hadn't done this before—not like this, not with anyone who wanted her the way he did. Her every reaction was unfiltered, untrained, purely her. The way she trembled when he brushed his knuckles along the inside of her thigh, the way her breath hitched when his head dipped lower, the little strangled cry she made when his lips finally met the heat of her—those things undid him. Tore through his practiced self-control like it was paper.
He had thought he’d known desire. He hadn't known it like this.
Not how her fingers curled into his hair like vines desperate for an anchor.
Not the way she choked his name on a whimper when his tongue found the sensitive spot just above her entrance and began to work her open in slow, reverent circles.
Not her taste—both dark and bright, earthy and sweet. Like black coffee on the coldest morning. Like sap from a tree cracked open midwinter.
She was wildness and warmth, forest fire and frost.
And somehow, with his mouth pressed against her most vulnerable place, he felt safe.
Her hips bucked as she gasped again, louder this time, a sound full of shock and need. He anchored her with one arm across her belly, keeping her from floating away. His mouth never left her, tongue tracing patterns like he was writing a love letter she’d only feel, never read. And when he added the light swirl of his finger just beneath his lips, her body seized—a violent, beautiful quake.
She moaned like it was being dragged from her soul.
Hunter groaned into her, half-mad with how soft she was, how wet, how absolutely devastating it felt to know she was unraveling because of him. The way she tasted, it was endless. A cool, gushing stream across his tongue, salt and sweetness, and the coppery buzz of power humming beneath her skin. A sacred offering.
He wanted to drink from her forever.
He wanted to ruin her for anything else.
And he wanted her to know through every flick, every kiss, every whisper of teeth, this wasn’t just hunger.
It was worship.
He pulled back just enough to look up at her.
Her eyes were half-lidded, dazed, and glowing in the lamplight. Her lips parted, chest rising and falling fast, her skin slick and shimmering as if the room had pulled the moon down to rest on her body. And when he reached up and kissed her inner thigh, softly this time, her hand shot out, fingers grasping blindly for him.
“H-Hunter …” she stammered, the name a prayer, a plea, a tether.
