Page 109 of Dear #47, You're the Worst
I’m not just kissing him back. I’m unraveling.
“Fuck, Juliet,” he breathes against my neck. The sound of my name, raw on his lips like that, makes something deep in my chest crack open.
I think about Patrick suddenly, unbidden. Think about how he never made me feel like this. How he made me feel lucky to be wanted, but never truly desired. Sex with him was pleasant and predictable and completely forgettable. He never really saw me, not like this.
But Hunter is looking at me like I’m something he wants toruin, like I’m the most fascinating thing he’s ever encountered. It’s in my head, I know, but it seems like he’s been waiting his whole life for permission to touch me this way.
The fear hits me hard and sudden.
It’s not just that Hunter’s good at this. It’s that I feel seen. Too seen.
It’s been a long time since someone wanted me for me and I’ve been aching for this kind of connection on such a soul-deep level.
Ineedto be needed. Not desired, but wanted for something other than my great tits. Hunter barely notices them. I can feel myself getting lost in the kiss, in him, and that terrifies me more than anything.
But then his hand slides between us, sweeping down my body, parting my thighs. His hot fingers press against the fabric of my shorts, seeking and quickly finding the little wet spot. He rubs hard circles just above it, pressing against my clit, and all rational thought flies out the window.
I gasp, arching my body, eager for more. I’m greedy, seeking friction, seeking more of whatever he’s offering. He barely touches me and I pant for him. It’s embarrassing, but I’m about five seconds from straddling him, ripping off my clothes, and demanding he finish what he started.
He kisses along my neck, nudging my thighs open a bit more. “Let me touch you, Monroe. Let me feel you.”
“Fuck it,” I gasp. Pushing his hands away, I straddle his lap. Hunter’s hands find my hips, encouraging me to roll them against him. It’s not work to spread my legs wide, bury my hands in his hair, and buck my pussy against his steely length.
Something impossibly hard and cool brushes against my clit. My eyes bug out as I look down between us. “What was that?”
“This?” Hunter bites his lip and thrusts against my pussy again. I feel metal brush me again, but I can’t see it.
“Yes!” I splay my hands against his muscular chest. “Hunter, are you… pierced?”
“Yes, sweetheart.” He rocks his hips slowly, pressing his hand between our bodies to make sure that I feel the mysterious piercing with each thrust. I can’t see his cock, but I can feel it, his hot, impossibly hard length teasing my slit. “That’s not a problem, is it?”
I groan. One part of me wants to know when he got the piercing and if it hurt. The other part of my brain is tuning out, narrowing to the feeling of my clit pulsing and the heat between our bodies.
Am I drooling? God, I hope not. My orgasm face might be humiliating. The thought slows my hips again.
“You’re thinking too much.” Hunter tugs my head back and growls in my ear, “Let me make you come, Monroe.”
God, he’s killing me. I’m fuckingneedyand my face is on fire. Nodding to him, I relax an inch. He moves his hips faster, his eyes on me.
“Are you going to come just from me touching you like this?” He seems curious. His stormy blue-gray eyes probe me. “How does my cock feel, Juliet?”
“Good,” I gasp. “So fucking good. Don’t stop.”
He’s playing me like a fucking fiddle. How embarrassing. My breath hitches as he snaps his hips, his clothed cock brushing against my clit. Every thrust brings a brush of hard metal. My whole body shudders, knotting.
“I wouldn’t dare.” Hunter smirks. “Do you have a very sensitive trigger, baby? Is that it?”
I swallow. I’m very close to the edge, hanging on the precipice by my fingernails. “Uh-uh.”
He grips my hips harder, thrusting against me more forcefully. My eyes roll back in my head. “I’m–I’m going to–”
“That’s it.” His hips move faster now, rolling against me, his hands the only thing tying me down to earth. “You’re so fucking hot. So perfect. I can feel how wet your pussy is getting, sweetheart. I want you to come on my cock.”
I seize up somewhere just before he tells me to come, exploding, shaking, my fingers digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks. Hunter keeps thrusting while I ride the wave, washing up and over me like a tidal wave and then leaving me a gasping mess.
I remind myself to chill out a bit. Hunter has barely touched me. I need to slow my roll down a little. Brushing the hair out of my face, I look at him, breathing hard.
“Can I touch you?” I ask, feeling silly.
