Page 166 of Dear #47, You're the Worst
What a terrible, wonderful idea. My lips part. I hate the idea of anyone seeing me enjoy the toy. But part of me knows that this is for Huxley. It’s got to be, right?
My tongue darts out to wet my lips. He watches as I touch the vibe to my nipple. “Aah!”
The sensation is sharp, almost painful, and it makes me jerk away instinctively. But Hux doesn’t allow it. He looks at me patiently.
“Keep going.”
I circle my left nipple, then my right, each pass sending a jolt straight to my core. My legs tremble, but I keep them pressed together, unwilling to reveal just how wet I already am.
Hunter lets me torture myself for a full minute before he leans forward, grabs my knees, and spreads them open. Wide enough that I feel totally on display. He doesn’t even try to hide the way his cock strains against his boxer briefs.
He leans back, testing the weight of his cock with one palm. His piercing winks at me. “Touch your clit, Monroe. But you don’t get to come until I say. If you go too far, you’ll be punished.”
Punished? I imagine Hunter pulling me over his lap and spanking me until I cry out. Okay, now that’s an idea I don’t hate. But this is supposed to be for him, so I focus on my mission.
I slide the vibe down my torso, across my stomach, teasing the insides of my thighs. Every nerve ending is on fire. I graze it over my clit, just barely, and the sensation is so intense I almost drop the thing.
“Jesus,” I gasp, hips bucking up.
“That’s it,” Hunter says, watching my every move. “Put it right on your clit, Juliet. Let me see you lose control.”
I want to impress him. My sole intention is to give him the best show he’s ever seen. I close my eyes, turn the vibe up one notch, and work it in slow, deliberate circles. I feel myself getting closer, my breath growing ragged. My body remembers every single time he’s made me come with nothing but his hands, his mouth, his words. I want that now more than anything.
But I remember the rules. I pull the vibe away just before I tumble over the cliff, letting myself cool down a fraction. I shudder, needing release, but refusing to break.
Hunter smiles, slow and dangerous. “You really are a good girl, aren’t you?”
His words send another shiver of pleasure skittering down my spine.
“Uh huh.”
He stands, looming over the bed, and shucks off his dress shirt, revealing all the muscle and old bruises and sharp, familiar ink. He strips off his pants and briefs in a single motion, his cock already hard, alreadyleaking.
He takes the vibe from my hand, inspects it, then licks the tip, like he’s tasting my arousal. So damndirty. His eyes lock on mine as he does it. “You taste even better than I remember,” he murmurs.
Hunter’s always sodirty. “My God, your mouth is filthy.”
The words slip out on a gasp. He grins like I just gave him a medal. “And you love every word.”
“Hux,” I whimper. “Please.”
“Please, what?”
I don’t even know. “Please… anything. Please, Hux.”
He sets the vibe aside and grabs my hips, flipping me over so I’m on my stomach. My ass is in the air, vulnerable. He slides his hands along the backs of my thighs, up to my ass, squeezing hard enough to leave marks.
“Beautiful,” he says, voice reverent. “So fucking beautiful. I can see your pussy glistening.”
Oh god. I tense up.
He drags two fingers down my pussy, spreading me open, and groans at the sight. “Dripping, already. Such a mess.”
He tsks, probing.Yes. Yes.I push back into his hand but he merely tsks again. Then I feel a raw slap across my pussy as he murmurs. “Be still, Firecracker.”
“God, you’re obscene,” I groan into the pillow.
He chuckles darkly. “You like me this way.”
