Page 86 of Selling Scarlett

I bite my lip, and I consider doing just that. But I can't. This is Hunter. And maybe I'm a crazy idiot for feeling how I do, but when I'm with him, I feel better. More me than I am without him, and that's not something I can just let go of, even if it is insane.

“Do you think that you could talk to me?”

Hunter looks into my eyes and I feel like he's seeing everything inside my past and future. Then, suddenly—roughly—he tugs me to his chest and wraps himself around me. I feel his head come down on top of mine and my gut clenches.

“Libby.” It sounds like he's pleading with me. I look up at him, wishing I knew what he needed, and his hands come up frame my face. “Libby...honey. Why don't you do what I say?”

“I don't want to leave yet.” I clutch his biceps and press my cheek against his chest. “I really wish that you would talk to me.”

He nuzzles my face with his, his cheek stroking mine as our mouths join in a kiss. I expect that it will quickly turn hard and fierce, but instead his lips are feather gentle, so soft it doesn't feel quite real.

I pull him close and hungrily deepen our kiss. His tongue glides past mine and he's tugging deep breaths while never moving off of me. I'm feeling dizzy when he whispers, “Keep your eyes closed.”

This is what he said to them. To Loveless and Marie V. and Sarabelle. Keep your eyes closed. I shudder, and he shoves clothes off the bed and lays me down as my limbs stiffen and I feel a shot of fear.

I can hear him in the limo: “You're riding an awful fucking lot on intuition.” I try to feel some of the recommended skepticism as his fingers stroke my cheeks, his lips moving over my temples, teasing my ear. And, right there, he groans and presses his heavy body into mine.

“No, open them. Open them, Libby. I want to see your beautiful blue eyes.”

His eyes are wide, and when I look into them, I feel like my insides have gone molten. I nod, then arch up and press my lips to his. We kiss for what seems like hours. Hunter's body is warm and weighty, and as things between us heat up, I grab his hips and he rocks into me with increased frenzy, panting, “Oh God, Lib. Oh God.”

He's got my robe unfastened and it lies in heaps around me. His lips are sucking my breast, his hand holding my teddy up, and I can feel him trembling.

“Hunter, can I...?” I fumble with the button of his jeans, and he groans.

“Libby, sweet. Oh no.” He pants. “You first.”

He ducks and pulls my panties down, and before I know it his mouth is covering me right where I'm throbbing. I'm coming off the mattress, tugging on his hair, and he is moaning like he loves it.

I cum with a strangled scream, clamping my legs around his head. He grins when he disentangles himself, and I can feel his stiff length pressing against my leg through the denim of his jeans. I try to reach for it, but he lifts his weight off me.

“Why not?”

His eyes are wide. “Do you want to?”

“Yes. Of course.”

I grab his shoulders and push him down beside me. This time it's me between his legs, unzipping his pants and freeing that huge, hard, staff. I pull his blue jeans down, his boxers down, and there is all of Hunter—cock and balls and hair-strewn thighs. I can feel a spurt of warmth between my own legs as I lean down and ease him into my mouth.

He nearly comes off the bed. I suck his head against the soft inside of my mouth and stroke his shaft while my other hand cups his balls. I take him deeper, licking his rod-stiff length just like an ice cream cone—the way I practiced. I lap around the edges of his head and he tugs my hair. I suck some more and pump him just a little harder. I can feel his balls stiffen in my hand. His cock throbs, and I taste a tinge of salt before he jerks away from me, coming over both our hands.

He's pushed himself up onto his elbows and I think he will lie back. Instead he wraps his arms around me and brings me down beside him, curling his body around mine.

“Hunter.” I reach behind me and feel the delicious hardness of his abs.

“You're a fucking angel,” he rasps.

“No,” I whisper, grinning. “Just a girl.”

“My favorite girl.” He gathers me into his arms and pulls me to the top of the bed, where the pillows are, urging me underneath the covers as he sits the drawers down on the floor. I realize I never figured out what he was doing when I came into the room, but he's not doing it anymore, so it doesn't matter quite as much.

Especially not that we’re under the covers, our warm, sated bodies pressed together. Our arms and legs are tangled and I stroke his face, because he's just so handsome.

Soon his breathing is even and his body slack. I stroke his hair and face until my arm muscles are aching from the strain of hovering up over him. I tuck my arm back by my side and kiss his cheek. “Get some rest,” I whisper.

Then I snuggle down beside him. I might have drifted off. I can't be sure, but when I open my eyes, I know it's afternoon by the amber and pink tone of the light streaming through the curtains. I blink up at the ceiling, realizing with a pleasant burst of warmth inside my chest that Hunter is wrapped around me, his face hidden in my hair.

I grin. Then I look across the room and see Priscilla.

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