Page 71 of Stolen By the Alpha Hunter
Need.
Maybe it’s wishful thinking…but Iwantit to be true.
“I’m nervous,” I admit, my voice barely audible.
He lifts his gaze to mine.
“Don’t be.” His fingers keep circling, slow and careful, like he’s mapping me. “I’ll tend to the bite afterward. It’ll heal faster. Hurt less.”
He pauses, his voice dropping into something deeper—softer.
“It should only hurt for a second. And then…”
“Then it’ll feel good,” I breathe. “Like it’s supposed to.”
He holds my gaze.
“Yeah,” he says. “Like that.”
I stay prone as he moves between my legs, spreading them like a lover. The t-shirt drapes over my pussy, hiding me from him—much to my relief, because I’m already wet. He bends and places his hands on my hips, holding me still. His breath puffs out against my skin, and then I feel a strange sensation.
Not the bite.
His tongue.
“Oh,” I sigh, a short gasp escaping my lips. He feels so good between my legs, his lips on my skin. It’s like this is where he’s supposed to be.
“I’m going to count down from three and then I’ll bite,” he says, and his tongue is still grazing the spot, driving me crazy. “Are you read?”
I jerk my head. “Do it,” I say.
“Three…”
I shift slightly, his hands fitting my hips perfectly.
“Two…”
I inhale and hold it.
“One.”
His lips clamp over my flesh and his teeth sink in—sharp, perfect, precise. Pain flares for a single, breathless second.
And then?—
His tongue.
A slow lick over the bite, hot and wet and soothing, drawing the sting into something else entirely. My back arches off the mattress with a cry I don’t mean to make, my hips jerking toward him, desperate for friction—anything—because the pleasure that ripples through me is too much. Too fast.
“Steady,” Javi murmurs, his voice rough like gravel, voice cracking with restraint.
“I—Javi—” My voice breaks. I can’t breathe. I can’t stop shaking.
His tongue flicks over the bite again, slower this time, and my thighs clamp around his shoulders without permission. My body is drenched with heat, slick soaking through me, and my shirt—his shirt—has ridden up around my waist.
He freezes.
His breath hitches against my thigh. His tongue stills.
