Page 114 of His to Hunt

The words break something open inside me. Something I didn't know could shatter. Because she's never said that to anyone. Because no one has ever deserved it.

I drop to my knees before her. Again. Because I now realize I'd spend every moment of every day kneeling before her if she'd let me.

My hands slide up her thighs, slow and reverent. I press kisses to the inside of each one—gentle at first, then rougher, more demanding, nipping just enough totease.

She tangles her hands in my hair, fingers clutching tight. Desperate. Needy. And I groan against her skin, the vibration making her shiver.

"I love when you pull," I rasp, looking up through the spray. "Keep holding me there, little thief. Don't let me go."

I press my mouth between her legs—my tongue searching for her pussy like I'm starving. And maybe I am. Because nothing has ever tasted like this. Like her. Like us.

She gasps, back arching, trying to both escape and get closer. But I grip her hips tighter, anchoring her against the tile as water streams over both of us.

"Stay still," I command against her clit. "Let me feast."

And I do. I devour her with single-minded focus, sucking her clit with slow precision before swirling my tongue in patterns that make her legs shake and her voice fracture into broken pleas.

"Beckett—fuck—I can't—" Her voice cracks, water and pleasure making it nearly impossible to form words.

"Yes, you can," I assure her, the words vibrating against her sensitive flesh. "You're going to come on my mouth." I punctuate each phrase with a long, deliberate lick. "Again. And again."

I slide two fingers inside her, curving them to find that spot that makes her eyes roll back and her body convulse.

The water pounds against my back. Her nails scrape my scalp. My name falls from her lips in a desperate litany like it's the only word she knows.

And I don't stop. I worship her with my mouth, my fingers, my entire being—like her pleasure is my salvation.

"Louder," I growl against her, the vibration making her jerk. "Come for me, little thief. I want to hear how much you need me."

She comes with a cry that could shatter glass, her thighs clamping around my head as her body convulses. But I don't stop, don't pull back, don't give her a chance to recover.

When the tremors subside, I finally rise—a controlled ascent that brings me eye-to-eye with her flushed, stunned expression. My cock stands hard and ready between us, and her gaze drops to it immediately.

She reaches for me with trembling fingers. When she wraps her hand around my length, I nearly lose all the control I've been clinging to.

Her hand moves with surprising confidence—soft but sure, still shaking slightly from her own release. For a moment, I almost let her continue, but I catch her wrist gently.

"Not to stop you," I reassure her. "Just need to breathe."

Because she's looking at me like she understands exactly what's happening. Like she feels it too. This isn't just desire. It's consumption. A storm neither of us expected to weather.

"Beckett..." she whispers, my name a question and answer all at once.

And that's it. The final thread of my control snaps clean.

I hook my hands beneath her thighs and lift her in one fluid motion. Her legs wrap around my waist instinctively as I pin her back against the tile. When I line myself up with her entrance, our eyes lock—a connection deeper than physical.

I slide inside her—slow, deliberate, savoring every inch—until I'm buried completely. So deep I swear I can feel her soul shudder against mine.

Her mouth parts on a gasp that's almost silent. Her eyes widen, pupils blown with pleasure and something that looks dangerously like devotion.

And nothing else matters. The world beyond this shower, beyond her body, might as well not exist.

I thrust again—measured, like I'm trying to memorize her from the inside out. The heat. The tightness. The way her pussy holds my cock like it never wants to release me.

Her hands find my shoulders, fingertips pressing into the muscle hard enough to leave marks. Paint smears under her nails, staining us both further. When her forehead drops against mine, I forget how to breathe.

"You feel it too, don't you?" I rasp, unable to keep the question contained. "This thing between us?"

---