Desperate

 

 

I have no idea what I’m doing. I passed the point of no return about two hours ago when I called up Hunter’s office, pretending that I was UPS and had a parcel for Keira, but her surname was unknown. I was hoping the clueless receptionist would confirm that a Keira…worked there.

She did.

Keira Celly. The name of my new arch nemesis. I have no idea, apart from the obvious, what my beef with this woman is, I just know I want her to take a slow walk through fast traffic.

As I’m trying on outfit number six, my phone rings. It’s hidden under my pillow because Trent has called me about ten times. I know I really should talk to him, but I don’t know what to say. After Saturday night, I’ve been giving him the cold shoulder and not returning any of his messages.

Once I get tonight over with, I’ll tell him that I’m not interested. It’s better I end things before they get out of hand. When it sounds once again, I decide to switch it off because I don’t want any distractions as I’m jumpy enough. I lift my pillow, but instead of seeing Trent as the caller, it’s Maddy.

I quickly answer. “Hey!” I say with a little too much enthusiasm, as I’m worried she’ll see what a shitty friend I am for not telling her about my current lapse in mental state.

“Hey yourself. Why are you so chipper?”

Breathe, Mary. “Can’t I be happy to talk to my best friend?”

Maddy laughs. “Aw, I’ve missed you too. How you been?”

Oh, you know, just the standard—losing my mind. “I’ve been good. Just trying to organize my last assessment.”

I wait for it because I know what she’s going to say. “Oh my god, you haven’t?” Even though she was the one who gave me Hunter’s address, I’m certain she believed I wouldn’t go through with it.

Walking back over to the mirror, I wonder if my outfit is too much. I have on a royal blue, high waisted flared mini skirt and a light gray tank which ties at the front. I’m probably showing way too much cleavage. “Yes, I have. Like you said, I’m running out of options. I really don’t have a choice.” Which is half true.

I can hear Maddy walking into another room as the TV in the background slowly fades to silence. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean…you hate Hunter.”

If only that were the truth.

Reaching for my black and gray spotted scarf, I wrap it around my neck to tone down the desperate and dateless vibe. “Yes, the man is an utter primate. His apartment just confirms this.”

“So you ended up going over Sunday?”

Maddy was in the shower when I called her and Dixon picked up. I told him if I could be bothered, I would drop in to see Hunter and asked if he knew if he was home. Dixon isn’t stupid. He knew I was going and he probably didn’t tell Maddy because it wasn’t his story to tell. Nothing slips past him.

“Yes, I did. I did what I had to and then left. I could only handle being alone with him for like two minutes.” Not an outright lie, but just not the way she thinks.

“I’m surprised I didn’t get a call from NYPD,” she says with a chuckle.

Her comment has me thinking about little miss goody two shoes. “What’s the deal with the blonde?”

“Which one?”

A stab to the heart almost renders me unconscious, but I continue. “His date.” I can’t keep the bite from my tone, but quickly recover. “I saw her today. At his work,” I explain, not needing to go into detail, as Maddy knows home and office is all part of the deal.

“What about her? She seems nice.”

Pull it together, I instruct my mirror image as I sweep down my body with a few pumps of my favorite perfume. “She seems like a complete phony. She’s definitely hiding something.”

“Not you too. Dixon also seems to think she’s hiding some deep, dark secret.” From Maddy’s tone, it’s quite evident she doesn’t agree.

My ears prick up. Interesting. “Well, Dixon does know best.”

She bursts into laughter, the light sound instantly calming my nerves. “Since when?”

“Since I agree with him,” I reply, curling a limp lock of hair around my finger to give it oomph.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were both jealous.”

The cell slips from my ear and I quickly scramble to pick it back up. “Please, jealous of what? Being another notch on his bedpost? I don’t think so.”

“I don’t think he’s met the right girl, that’s all. I know you’ll disagree, but I think Hunter would make a great boyfriend. There really isn’t anything not to like. He’s a good guy once you get to know him.”

I pause, lip gloss wand en route to my mouth. “Maddy, have you gone insane? He can’t keep it in his pants for more than five seconds. Not to mention, since your fiancé left him his big manwhore shoes to fill, he’s been screwing anything that walks. I’m not saying he’s a slut, but let’s just say his penis volunteers a lot. And when someone says he’s a good guy once you get to know him, what they really mean is he’s an asshole, but you’ll get used to it.”

Rant over.

Maddy is cackling in uncontrollable laughter while I huff, annoyed that he isn’t even here and he’s able to get under my skin. I need a drink. “I think you two would make a great couple.”

“Yes, like Sid and Nancy. Bonnie and Clyde. Milo and Otis.”

“Milo and Otis?” Maddy asks, confused.

“Yup, ’cause we’d fight like cats and dogs.” I have no doubt this is true, but it doesn’t stop me from daydreaming about her comment. Maybe in another lifetime. “Speaking of Satan himself, I have to go. I was due at his apartment like an hour ago.”

“You’re going back?”

Throwing everything I need into my handbag, I sigh. “Yes, desperate, remember?” I mean that in every literal way there is.

“Do you want us to come over? Offer some moral support?”

Bless her, but hell no. How high-strung I am, she’ll see right through me and I have no doubt she’ll make me talk to Dixon about feelings and all that other sentimental crap. “No, it’s okay. I won’t be staying long.”

“All right. Good luck,” she singsongs, not making me feel an iota better.

“Thanks. I need it. If you don’t hear from me, it’s because I’ve crossed the Mexican border and changed my name to Juana.”

“Okay. Your secret is safe with me. Have fun.”

Once I hang up, I feel like the world’s shittiest friend. I want to tell her, but I don’t even know what I’m feeling, so how can I put it into words? It’ll all come out in a rush of gibberish, leaving me flustered and tongue tied.

Grabbing my red coat, I lock up my apartment in Brooklyn and walk to the subway. No one bar pretentious assholes drives in New York. The subway is all one needs to get around. And besides, the forty-minute train ride gives me the guts to rearrange my lady balls and attempt to act semi-normal as I prepare for what the night will bring.

Yes, it’s true, I need to take pictures, but once that’s done, what happens then?

Oh my fucking god. What is the matter with me? I sound like a schoolgirl with a crush. ‘In and out,’ I chant to myself as I enter his apartment complex and push the elevator call button. This place is rather posh and I’m surprised they haven’t thrown Hunter out for offending the tenants with his foul mouth.

The concierge, a younger guy, doesn’t hide his curiosity at what I’m doing here, as I don’t exactly fit in. I’m too dressed to be a hooker, but not in lavish riches to be a resident. He tips his black hat when he sees me eyeing him. “Going to see Hunter?”

“What?” I bark, my temper simmering. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

He can clearly see me seething and quickly backtracks. “I was just wondering because all the pretty girls go up to see him.”

Peering down at his nametag, I have just added Marvin to my shit list. “You really need to stop talking.”

He pales and waves both hands in front of him. “I just meant…” But he soon zips his lips when I envision him doused in fuel while I strike a match.

Lucky for Marvin, the elevator arrives because I’m seconds away from shoving that bell so far up his ass he’ll be speaking with a chimed lisp. “Please feel free to vacate the room whenever you see me next.” He nods, knowing better than to argue with a fired-up redhead.

I storm into the elevator, stabbing at the button which will take me to Hunter’s bordello. My nerves are soon replaced with anger because what the fuck do I look like—one of Hunter’s groupies? I’m offended, not to mention pissed off that whenever an attractive woman enters the building, it’s assumed she’s here to see the manwhore.

Anger is good, I can work with anger. It’s all the other stuff that is confusing me and clouding my vision. Maybe if I live in a perpetual state of rage, this obsession will eventually fuck off.

The moment the doors part, I march down the hallway, intent on being here for no longer than five minutes. I do need his apartment, but that doesn’t mean I need to look or speak to him. From now on, it’s purely professional, and if an unprofessional thought crosses my mind, I’m going to punch myself in the boob.

Standing tall, I bang on Hunter’s door. I could ring the doorbell, but I figure I’ll pound on his door, rather than his face because that’s sure to happen when he opens this door. I impatiently tap my foot against the carpet—what’s taking so long? My scarf is cutting off my air supply, so I rip it off and stuff it into my bag.

With hand poised, I’m about to knock once again but almost fall flat on my face when the door opens and my underwear disintegrates into thin air. Fuck him and the hot horse he rode in on. He’s standing before me in blue jeans with a hole ripped in both knees, a white V-neck t-shirt and bare feet, which also happen to be sexy. I can’t help but take note of how big they are. You know what they say about big feet…big…shoes! I internally yell, primed and ready to sucker punch myself if I don’t push such inappropriate thoughts from my mind.

“Always so impatient,” Hunter says with a smirk, his bulky bicep flexing as he rests his arm against the doorjamb.

“It’s ’cause I want this over and done with as soon as possible.” Hooray for me, but when I push him out of the way, that celebration is short-lived. He feels amazing, and he smells even better. What is he wearing? LadyKiller—getting men laid since 1981. But he has no problems achieving that on his own.

When the door closes behind me, I put as much distance between us and make a mad dash to his bedroom. Extremely rude, but I don’t fancy a bruised nipple. The moment I enter, I can’t help but notice how much tidier it is. When I was here last, I did just turn up announced, but now it’s plain to see he’s put away his clothes and made the bed.

Why does that touch me in ways it shouldn’t?

Just as I curl my hand into a loose fist, Hunter enters and looks at me like I’ve gone completely mad. He’s not too far off the mark. Ignoring my need for violence, I hunt through my bag and do what I came here for.

I don’t even care that the lighting totally blows, because if I don’t leave this room in thirty seconds, I’m going to explode. A push pull effect is tearing me right down the middle because every emotion I feel is quickly counterbalanced with an opposing thought. I hate him. I want him. He is hot. He makes me sick. I want to lick him. I want to punch him in the nuts. I want to touch his nuts. I need help.

Not even bothering to look over the photographs I just took, I shove my cell into my jacket pocket and turn on my heel. I’m panting, and the harder I clamp my lips shut, the louder my desperation bounces off these bedroom walls.

I need to leave, because I can’t pretend anymore.

Charging down the hallway, I remember to turn left instead of right and hope to god I don’t trip over my feet in the process. Although, a concussion might be preferable, because when he calls out my name, I know all my convictions are long gone.

“Mary! Wait! Where are you going?”

“Home,” I spit, keeping my eyes focused on the doorknob and nothing else.

When he runs past me and uses his colossal body as a barricade however, I know this is going to take some muscle, because he’s not moving without a fight. “What’s up with you? Did your favorite book boyfriend die or something? Why are you so angry…well, angrier than usual?”

When I try and shove past him, he latches onto my upper arm, stopping me from moving an inch. I try and break free, but it’s useless. “I’m not angry,” I snap, still fighting with him to let me go.

“You could have fooled me. What’s wrong?”

It’s like I’m attempting to brush a bee off of me as I wiggle out of his hold. “Nothing, I just don’t want to take up any of your precious time, because god forbid I deny the lonely hearts of New York your cock!”

Okay, well, that just spiraled rather quickly.

Hunter releases me, his mouth slightly tilted in humor and surprise. “Are you angry at me because I’m irresistible? That’s not my fault. Blame my parents.”

I know he’s trying to make light of my insanity, but Marvin’s comment just cements what an utter idiot I am. I’m not special. Hunter only shows interest in me because I’m probably the first woman who’s told him no. He wants what he can’t have, but if he gets it, I’ll be last week’s news, and I’m done being disposable. I’m no one’s understudy.

“I’m angry at you because I don’t like being seen as some harlot in your harem!”

Hunter purses his lips, completely lost in translation. “Shortcake, did you smoke crack before coming here?”

Annoyed, I throw my hands in the air and attempt to push past him. But he stands his ground. He’s as stubborn as he is infuriately hot. “Hunter, just move.” In response, he folds his arms and leans back against the door, eyefucking me. “I’m sure you have better things to do…do being the operative word in that sentence.”

I can’t believe how worked up I am, but I’m at my breaking point. Since I met this man, he’s pushed every button and I’ve pushed back, but now I’ve run out of fight. I surrender, and that just makes me a faceless number in a long line of many.

“You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell is wrong.” He makes no attempts at moving, which leaves me with no other choice. Without a second thought, I raise my knee and connect with his balls.

A pained grunt leaves him as he topples over, clutching his nuts. I may play dirty, but desperate times call for desperate measures and I don’t remember being more desperate than I am right now. I attempt to wedge past him, but his hand shoots out and closes around my forearm. Add bionic man to his impressive resumè.

“Holy shit,” he wheezes, clutching onto his junk with one hand while trapping me with the other. “I think you broke me.”

“Good,” I shout, wriggling like a worm on a hook.

“I should…make you kiss it…better,” he breathlessly teases, peering up at me as he’s still keeled over.

“I’m sorry, small objects are a choking hazard.”

He bursts into a pained bout of laughter, before forcing himself to push past the agony and slowly coming to stand. I know I’m in trouble. I can feel it. It should frighten me, but it doesn’t…it excites me.

“Now… are you going to tell me what the fuck is wrong, or am I going to have to force it out of you…with my tongue?”

I blink once. “You wouldn’t dare,” I challenge, standing on tippy toes, fuming.

“Oh, I would dare. I double dare,” he counters, nostrils flared, hair wild as wisps have slipped free from its band.

He is a fierce beast, a ferocity consuming him as he devours every inch of my body with a fire behind those eyes. My body instantly slackens because I’m no match, I can’t fight him. Not because I’m weak, but rather, the pull is too strong.

Poking him in the chest, I know this will come back to bite me in the ass. In a way, I’m hoping it does. “What are you going to do about it?” Poke. “You talk big”—poke—“but that’s all you do, talk”—poke—“fucking ta…” The last word dies in a strangled heap because Hunter launches at me, catching me completely off guard.

At first, I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead he places his palm over my mouth, lowering his face to mine. He scours every inch of my face, as if committing to memory every feature, because what he’s about to do will change everything.

“What I’m going to do…what I’m going to do is,” he repeats, his voice dangerously low, “they say you are what you eat…and right now, Shortcake…I’m going to eat you.”

I have no time to react because he’s on me, kissing down my neck and sucking violently at my throat. I arch my head back, desperate for more because it’s not enough. He chuckles against my skin, the warmth from his breath spreading goose bumps all the way to my toes.

With frantic fingers, he pushes the coat from my arms, almost ripping it from my body when it catches on my watch. I need to feel more, so much more, and blindly reach for the hem of his t-shirt, craving to feel flesh upon flesh.

But Hunter smacks my hands away because he is about to make good on his promise. Tearing his mouth away, he silently asks permission, beseeching me with those magnetic eyes, and god strike me down, I nod. It’s all he needs as he lifts me roughly and carries me through the room.

My heart is going a million miles a minute, but I’d die happy, because when he tosses me onto the couch and looks at me like I’m his new favorite dessert, I know these next few minutes are going to be the best of my life.

I shuffle up the cushions, expecting him to cover my body with his, but he doesn’t. He stands at the foot of the couch, watching me like a lion hunts his prey. “Wh-what are you doing?” I’m suddenly nervous he’s had second thoughts.

“What did you mean about being a harlot and all that?” he asks, tilting his head to the side as he’s clearly looking up my skirt which sits indecently high.

He’s got to be joking. “You seriously want to talk about this now?”

He nods, rubbing his thumb backward and forward across his bottom lip. “Yes,” he replies matter-of-factly, while I groan and throw my head back in frustration. It snaps back up just as quickly though when he declares, “I need to know what I did to piss you off, because if this is the end result…then I’ll piss you off every day from now on.”

Swoon.

I know he won’t give in until I do, so my modesty takes a backseat. “Your asshole friend downstairs assumed I was one of your playboy bunnies.”

He arches a brow. “What friend?”

“Marvin the shithead.” It takes a moment for what I said to sink in, but when it does, Hunter bursts into inappropriate laughter. “Keep that up, and you’ll not only piss me off, you’ll incite World War Three.” I push down my skirt and sit upright in defiance.

“Oh, Shortcake, you have no idea how fucking wrong you are.” He doesn’t just speak, he fucks each word, each letter, and leaves me a hot, wet mess. “Marvin knows who you are.”

“Are you sure you’re not the one who smoked crack?” I counter, unmoved.

Hunter tongues his cheek, looking to the left as he composes himself. “He knows who you are because I’ve spoken to him about you. Many times, actually.”

I lick my suddenly dry lips. “And you what? Had a picture of me on hand? How does he know what I look like?”

The room suddenly gets smaller, or maybe Hunter grows to godlike proportions. “No, Shortcake, I told him that you were the only woman who can bring a man to his knees by a look alone. With all that fiery red hair, a pink pout which promises nothing but trouble, and a mouth which leaves me hard for days, he only had to take one look at you and know who you were.”

I gulp. “I thought it was because you had a legion of women knocking down your door.”

Hunter smirks, the sight too much for words. Placing one knee on the arm of the couch, he commences a slow crawl toward me. I instantly fall downward, unable to stay upright even if I tried. “Why did you tell Marvin about me?”

My chest is rising and falling so quickly, my words are punctuated with breathless tremors. Hunter places both hands either side of my head, keeping his full weight off of me as he scans down my body in one long, slow sweep.

I open my legs to accommodate his massive frame, and he slides between them like he was meant to be there all along. “Because…I have never met anyone quite like you before, Miss Mary Mitts.”

I’m waiting for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. He searches my eyes, delving so deep I’m afraid of what he’ll find. I want to ask him what that means, but talk time is over when he lowers those sinful lips and kisses over my cheeks, my chin, then down my neck.

He suckles at my racing pulse, the sting shooting all the way to my center. Tossing my head back, I squeeze my eyes shut and get lost in the feel of his luscious lips and the bouquet of his woody cologne. He fists a hand in my hair, tugging sharply as he works his way lower, tonguing over the tops of my rising breasts.

As he’s nestled between my legs, I can feel him lengthening against me. The consciousness sends my body into sensory overload and I can’t stop panting like a cat in heat. He releases me and I almost sag in relief because his grip, his kisses, they aren’t gentle, or testing the waters—Hunter takes and consumes me, hungry to savor every last piece of me. And I like it.

Powerless to stop, I thread both hands through his hair, the soft strands easy to hold on to. I envision using them as reins as he makes good on his promise. The mere thought of what he’s about to do has me whimpering.

He tongues the pillows of my breasts, before reaching between us and hurriedly unlacing the ties on my tank. He splits it apart, allowing him greater access to my breasts. He buries his face between the junction and hums in complete satisfaction.

“How is it even possible that your smell gets me hard?” To accentuate his point, he bucks upward in case I can’t feel him nudging closer to where I’m desperate for him to be. Knowing I elicit this response from him is an aphrodisiac within itself. I feel downright desirable.

Unable to speak, I roll beneath him, loving the feel of his firm body pressed to mine. I’m impatient however, and want him everywhere all at once. Reading my needs, he slips a hand into my tank and cups my left breast. I’m ashamed to admit that I almost come because he feels so good.

“These are fucking magnificent,” he hums, rolling his thumb over my pearled nipple.

There isn’t much room for him to move around in my top, and the restriction just adds to the heightened state I’m already in. “Please…” I hate how needy I sound, especially since I made a point of stressing that I don’t beg—ever—but it looks like Hunter wins.

“Please what?” he questions, his huskiness sending my hormones into overdrive.

“Please…more.”

“More? That sounded like begging, but that’s impossible, right? You don’t beg. Ever.”

Groaning, I clench my teeth together with my eyes still squeezed shut. The flames of hell are licking at my pussy and if he doesn’t extinguish them soon, I will do so myself. I slide my arm between us, so ready to get this show on the road. But Hunter slaps my hand away and tsks me.

“Don’t you dare take that rite of passage away from me. You’ve made me wait long enough.”

I finally open my eyes, the room spinning as I attempt to gather my bearings and not pass out. Hunter is hovering over me, his hand still inside my top. He is almost too gorgeous to look at. Most of his hair has slipped free, framing his jagged face. His eyes are consumed with a blackness, the sea green depths eaten up by wanton desire.

“What do you want?”

“Everything,” I reply without pause.

His pink lips slant into a wicked promise, and I suddenly am thankful for being a greedy little girl. “I’m not planning on being gentle.”

A jolt of electricity zaps my pussy in anticipation. “Good. I can handle anything you give.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

I have no time to ask what exactly that means, because he rips his hand from my top before seeking solace beneath my skirt. The moment he rubs two fingers over my underwear, a low growl rumbles from his chest. “I could say all the clichéd things, like you’re so wet, your pussy feels like heaven, but I’d rather be blunt and tell you I’m going to eat you out and we’re both going to fucking love it.”

Fisting my underwear in his grip, he tugs and they rip like they’re made of paper. I only thought that happens in the movies, but I’m living proof that panty ripping is a real-life thing. Hunter tosses them over his shoulder, smirking when a flush overtakes me.

“Do you blush all over?”

“Only one way to find out.” He groans, his gaze dropping to my heaving chest, betraying how turned on I am.

Sitting back on his heels, he reveals just how turned on he is because the bulge lurking from his jeans is near frightening. I gulp.

Leaning forward, he runs both hands up my thighs, eyes pinned to mine as he hikes up my skirt with the sweeping movement. When it slips higher and higher until it sits bunched up around my waist, the reality of me being butt naked hits home, and I instantly attempt to shut my legs.

“Uh-uh. Spread your legs,” he instructs, his fingers pressed lightly into my inner thigh. I know I don’t have a choice, so I comply. He takes a moment to thoroughly explore me, his eyes riveted to my naked center. “Strawberries and cream has never been more fitting.”

On cue, I redden, and Hunter growls.

Finally, his eyes flick to mine and I sink into the cushions, afraid he’s about to make good on his word and eat me whole. He swoops down and nestles between my legs, pushing my right one out further. I’m completely exposed to him.

He hums before lowering his mouth to the junction of my thighs and licking my entrance in one long, wet, painfully slow lick. I instantly rocket off the couch. It’s been so long since I’ve been intimate with someone this way, as Corey was never a fan of oral sex—giving, that is. Receiving was a whole different story.

Pushing him from my mind, I focus on the way Hunter guides his lips and tongue around my heated flesh, lapping at me with a languid rhythm. There is no hurry to his actions because he knows in about three seconds, I’m going to beg he put me out of my misery.

His fingers squeeze my inner thigh, working alongside the cadence of his mouth. His scruff abrades my sensitive skin, almost to the point of it being painful, but the pleasure overrides the sting. He brushes his lips backward and forward, as if he’s attempting to bury himself inside of me, slathering my arousal all over him.

My body tingles, but it’s not enough. “More,” I shamelessly demand, peering down to watch where we are joined. I’m utterly captivated by the way he moves, knowing his way around like those lips were crafted especially for me.

“I’m trying to be a gentleman.” His breath is a wicked torment, adding to the fire burning within.

“Be one tomorrow. Now, I just want, no need you to get me off.” No point beating around the bush—no pun intended. He chuckles against my needy pussy.

My hips soar off the couch, but Hunter fixes a hand around my waist and gives me what I want. He drives his tongue into me before biting my clit gently. A primitive growl escapes me because I’m certain I’m about to die.

My near death doesn’t deter him however, because he continues licking, biting, suckling until I’m wriggling to flee this sinful bliss. It’s almost too much. The way he works my body, knowing when I’m close, before he slows down and skates around where I want him to be.

If this wasn’t torturous enough, he lifts my leg over his shoulder, opening me wider and using his entire tongue to lap me up. I scream and a string of expletives leave me. He’s everywhere all at once and does something which has me seeing stars. He lifts the hood of my clit and tongues me until I’m squirming and bucking wildly on his face.

A knot begins to form, and each time his tongue and lips move over me, it begins to unravel dangerously fast. He senses my need for a release and starts to lick faster, harder, inserting a finger while his lips are still attached. I’m so full I’m certain I’m going to burst, but I drive my hips forward, taking everything he wants to give.

He wasn’t joking when he said he was going to eat me, because that’s exactly how I feel. He’s consuming me from the inside out, and as he tongues over my inflamed center, I know it won’t be long until I’m eaten alive.

I thrust my hips violently, fucking his face as he fucks me with his tongue. I’m hot, sticky, but I can’t stop. My release is so close I can taste it. Hunter is like a starved animal, and when he pulls his lips away and inserts two fingers into me, pumping them in and out while watching me watching him, I can’t control the scream that rips from my chest.

His lips are red, swollen from eating me out with such ferocity, and it drives me wild seeing my arousal smeared on his face. Our eyes our locked, just how his fingers are inside of me, and I’ve never felt more wanted than I do right now.

“Your cunt is my new favorite cheat meal,” he hums, licking his lips, savoring my taste. I moan, his dirty words only adding to the pinnacle I’m about to reach.

I can’t take it any longer and arch my back, opening myself up as wide as I can go. I need him to finish this, finish me. “Please,” I croak, closing my eyes. “Please, Hunter…I need to come.” There, he got what he wanted—me begging, it’s now time he gives me what I want.

“Oh, Shortcake, I should just torture you a little more, because you sure as fuck have tortured me.” He twists his fingers, stretching me so wide, my muscles screaming in blissful agony. “But I just can’t help myself.”

He pulls out his fingers and lunges forward, sealing his mouth over me and tonguing me so fierce, my body goes lax and I see stars. Pride is no longer part of my vocabulary as I ride his face, reaching down and clutching his hair in both hands. I hold him prisoner, chasing my release, because when he sucks over my clit, writes his name with his tongue over it, and inserts two fingers, I let go and I’m not exactly quiet about it.

I scream like a banshee, writhe uncontrollably, and cry happy tears, because something amazing happens, and Hunter feels it too. He continues milking me until I’m dry, dry humping the couch beneath him.

I’m too far gone to realize what is happening until he groans and it’s fairly obvious he’s followed suit in his pants. He is mumbling under his breath, a jumble of holy fucks and oh my god, she’s a unicorn. Good to see I’m not the only one who’s lost their mind.

My body is trembling and my heart is running an imaginary race. As I look down at Hunter, I see those sweltering eyes staring at me like I’m an alien. I have no idea what is going on until he wipes a hand down his saturated face.

A blush overtakes me because holy shit, that orgasm was the most intense one I’ve had—ever. It was like something exploded inside of me.

Hunter works his way up my body, licking his lips and humming. “I should be so ashamed I came in my pants like a prepubescent teen, but holy fuck, that was so hot.” I chew the corner of my lip, attempting to conceal my smile. But he tugs it free. “Own that shit, Shortcake because you just inflated not only my cock, but my ego too.”

When I arch a brow, totally lost, Hunter chuckles. “Oh, god, that’s even hotter because I know I was the first guy to make you come so hard you…”

He leaves the sentence hanging, appearing to want to beat his chest in pride. “I what?” I ask, as I know this was different. I felt like I was on the cusp of dying.

He shakes his head, that look of bewilderment assailing him once more. “Mary Mitts…you’re a squirter. I’m coated in your flavor and I want more. So much more.”

“A what?”

Question time is over, because when Hunter slides down my body and opens my legs once more, I know this lesson is one better shown.