Page 59 of The Revenge Agenda

Chapter 17

Hunter

I wish I could tell myself that this isn’t what I’d hoped would happen. That I could make out like I’m some good guy who only wanted to chat and be platonic and this is all a total accident.

But the second I suggested we head out to my car, this is exactly where I’d hoped we’d end up.

Maybe I’m heading to hell. But if I am, Rush is headed right there with me.

A backup plan.

If he wants to pretend that’s what this is, I’m happy to play along. Especially with him half on top of me, moaning into my mouth. I can’t stop touching him. Feeling him. Kissing him. Our tongues are a twisted mess, trading need between us, trying to get the upper hand when we’re both pretty well fucking on top. I map out the hard planes of his back and cup his throat and stroke his jaw, marveling in the scratch of his stubble against the pad of my thumb.

My cock is aching at the proximity. At how close it is to Rush’s. At the sound of his heavy breathing meeting mine and growing louder by the second.

I want to do so much more than kiss.

It’s torture.

Tasting parts of him and knowing the rest is off-limits. Touching safely, when all I want is to drive my hand into his pants and stroke him until he comes. To see his mouthwatering body succumb to pleasure.

The urge to satisfy him is clinging to me. A storm welling in my chest. The same chest Rush is shamelessly groping as he shifts and ruts his cock into my leg.

“You trying to tell me something?” Say yes, and I’ll give it to you. Gladly.

He thrusts against my thigh again. “Only that my cock is hard and has apparently taken a liking to you.”

“Well … I said no to revenge fucking, but …” I bite his bottom lip. “I don’t remember ever saying hand jobs were off the table.”

Rush doesn’t give me time to doubt myself, just grabs my jaw and kisses me hungrily. His hands drop to hurry along my buttons, popping each one before moving on to the next, and when they reach the top of my pants, that button falls victim to him too.

As much as I want him to touch me, I also want to touch him just as badly, so before he can pull me out, I knock his hand away.

“You … you sure?” Rush asks. “You don’t want me to take care of you first?”

“Seeing you fall apart and knowing it’s all for me is the only thing I care about.” I open his work pants with both hands, peeling them back to find his glorious cock waiting for me. He’s got a wet spot on his cotton briefs, and I’m filled with sheer elation as I free his shaft and remember that I not only get to touch that cock, but that cock belongs to Rush.

I spit into my hand and wrap it around him, giving him a solid stroke.

“Oh, okay. Yes. Like that. Perfect.”

It’s hard not to laugh at how adorable he is, so before I can give in to the urge, I kiss him again. My free hand grips his waist, holding him to me, guiding his hips into a sexy rhythm as he fucks my fist. I wish I could take my time, watch and taste, enjoy the thick length taking pleasure from my hand. His balls are still tucked away too, and his body is hidden from view, and all of this could be so much more, but what I have now will be enough. Will keep me going. Will probably be too much when we’re both back at work and I have to pretend that I don’t want him as much as I do.

Future Hunter is going to hate me.

Current Hunter has a handful of Rush’s dick and has said “fuck it” to all the consequences.

Rush’s deep grunts send shivers down my spine, the sounds and scent of sex building around us. My car windows are fogged up, Rush is clinging to my shoulders to steady himself, and those beautiful fucking lips are grinning as he gives himself over to me.

I break my mouth from his, lips dipping to his ear. “I want your cum, and I want it now. Flood my fist with it. Then I’m going to use your load to jerk off, knowing that you gave it to me to touch myself. That you wanted to make me feel good. You want to make me feel good, don’t you, Rush?”

“Yes. Good. So good.”

My thumb circles his tip with each firm stroke, collecting the precum and desperate for more. Loving that I’m making him feel good. That I’m getting Rush off. I want to give him release, that brief moment in time where the aching, mind-spinning lust splinters and blankets him with incredible relief.

“Almost there?”

“So close.”

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