Page 87 of Red Hunt

I was naked faster than I ever thought possible, and the mating of our tongues spoke of pure hunger. He led me to the kitchen island, grabbed one of the bar stools, and stepped behind me. Then he gently leaned me forward by molding his front against my back and clasped my hands around the edges of the seat. “Hold tight. Do not let go, you hear me?”

His words, the forcefulness in his voice, not being able to see him, made me gush, and I could feel wetness on my thighs. For a short second, I felt embarrassed, but then he slid his fingers through my folds and growled.

Growled.

“You’re so fucking wet for me. You’re mine.”

As if there had ever been a question. I’d been his almost from day one. This last week had been pure torture. But when he told me he loved me, it had been under extraordinary circumstances, and when he didn’t mention it again, didn’t kiss me again, I suddenly doubted his feelings. He slipped two fingers inside, and I rose up on my tiptoes. No doubts now.

“Take it,” he demanded.

So hot.

In and out. His fingers penetrated deeper.

He wrapped his arm around my hip, and he squeezed my clit from the front. The fingers of his other hand meanwhile gathered my wetness, then searched and found this impossibly sensitive, most forbidden place, and spread it there. Oh boy. He rubbed, circled, and prodded until my breathing came in short bursts. Nothing had ever felt this good. This earth-shattering good. His fingers were the only thing holding me upright.

Then his lips found my ear. He nibbled, then bit. Then whispered, “I’m gonna take my hands off of you, and I’m gonna look at you. Do not move, do you hear me?”

I exhaled in a rush. His voice, his dominance holding me suspended. Though some doubts entered—I hated being looked at. Hated it ever since…

And then he bit my ear again…hard. Branding me as his. Marking me. Catapulting me back into the present.

When he took a step back, I could feel the air against my skin, against my wetness, against my ass. I squeezed my inner muscles, but it only made things worse.

The silence stretched on, intensified my lust but also had my stomach roiling.

“You are so fucking beautiful, dove,” he said and squeezed my ass cheeks with both of his hands, then pushed them apart.

Looking at me…there.

My breath got stuck somewhere between my chest and my throat. Seconds ticked by.

“Beautiful.” Another squeeze, then he let go completely.

I heard a rustling, and then he was there again, pressing against my back from behind.

His cock pushing against me, he slipped inside with one infinitely long stroke, stretching me just beyond comfortable. He didn’t stop until I could feel his pelvis against my backside. Until he filled me completely. Until I didn’t know where I ended and he began.

His hot breath branded the back of my neck. “Look at me, dove.”

I turned my head to the side until I could see him in my peripheral vision.

“I love you, and I will never let you go.”

He gave me a peck on my lips. Innocent, sweet. The last sweet thing he did because then there was pressure against my backside again. One digit slipping into my back entrance. Deliciously stimulating. He grabbed my hip in a bruising grip and picked up speed at the same time. He pumped inside of me, fucked me, dragged me higher and higher until my breathing turned choppy, my thoughts drained out of my head, and all I could do was feel Max branding me as his, encouraging me to feel more. To feel it all.

Forceful, greedy, perfect.

He removed his hand from my hip, found my clit, rubbed, circled, then captured it between his fingers and squeezed. “Come for me, dove.”

His rough words, hoarsely whispered, sent me into a tailspin, his fierce rhythm driving my desire until I reached that peak. My muscles contracted, squeezed, then I exploded into a fiery ball of light.

Max grunted, impaled me one last time, and shuddered with his release deep inside of me. Never letting go of my clit, or removing his finger from inside…there.

I was his.

Forever.

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