Page 57 of Because I Liked A Boy
Hunter groans, a raw sound torn from his chest. “Princess…” It’s a warning, but his hands are already gripping my hips, keeping me pressed to him.
I roll my hips once, testing. The friction is delicious rough cotton against the thin fabric of my shorts, my clit catching on every ridge. Heat shoots through me.
“Fuck,” he growls, head dropping back. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”
“Yes, I do.” My voice is husky, breathless. I grind again, slower, dragging it out. “And I like it.”
His laugh is broken, dangerous. His hips snap up, grinding back, harder this time, making me cry out. “And you’re gonna be the death of me.”
The kiss turns messy, hungry, teeth clashing, tongues tangling. My hands fist in his t-shirt, pulling him closer, while his grip drags me against him exactly where he wants me. The friction builds, hotter with every roll of my hips.
“Princess,” he groans, voice cracking. “Jesus you’re—fuck—you’re gonna make me cum.”
“That’s the idea,” I pant, rocking harder now, chasing the edge.
He curses, thrusting up to meet me, each sharp grind pulling a broken sound from his chest. I can feel him pulsing beneath me, the wet mess already spreading between us, every drag filthier than the last.
And then he shudders, grip bruising my hips as he comes, hard, a ragged groan tearing from his throat. His body jerks beneath me as he buries his face in my neck like he can’t bear me to see him undone.
I keep moving, chasing my own release, grinding through the mess until my thighs are trembling. Heat coils tight in my belly, pressure snapping until I cry out, clinging to him as my body shakes apart.
When it fades, I collapse against him, sweaty, breathless, lips swollen. His chest heaves under mine, his cock still twitching in the sticky mess.
I press a kiss to his jaw, smug through the haze. “Guess you’re not as cocky as you thought. I just made you cum without even touching you.”
Hunter chuckles, still wrecked, still holding me like I might slip away. His voice is rough, reverent. “Careful, princess. Round two’s coming and then I promise you’ll be the one begging.”
His chest is still heaving when he suddenly shifts, sliding an arm under my thighs, the other bracing my back.
“Hunter—” I gasp, clutching at his shoulders as he scoops me up like I weigh nothing.
“Bed,” he mutters, voice rough. “Can’t do this to you on the sofa, princess. You deserve more than that.”
My heart pounds as he carries me down the hall, every step steady. When he nudges my bedroom door open with his foot and lays me down on the mattress, it’s with a gentleness that makes my chest ache.
He hovers for a breath, eyes dark, lips swollen. Then he bends, pressing a slow kiss to my mouth before trailing lower across my jaw, down my throat, teeth scraping lightly until I shiver.
His hands are everywhere, warm and rough, slipping down my body as his lips follow. He pushes my shirt higher, kissing across my stomach, nippinguntil I squirm. By the time he reaches the waistband of my shorts, I’m trembling.
Hunter sits back on his knees, hands braced on either side of my hips. His eyes burn into mine. “Tell me I can, princess,” he rasps. “Tell me I can take these off.”
My breath catches, but I nod, words spilling out shaky and certain. “Yes.”
His grin is wrecked and wicked. He hooks his thumbs under the waistband, easing them down over my hips, slow, deliberate. He doesn’t rush. My panties are still on thin, damp, clinging but he only tosses the shorts aside.
Instead, he takes my ankle, pressing a kiss there, soft and reverent, before moving higher over my calf, the inside of my knee. My breath stutters as he spreads my thighs wider, lips teasing higher with each slow kiss.
By the time his mouth hovers over the inside of my thigh, I’m shaking, every nerve screaming for more. His teeth nip lightly, just enough to sting, before his tongue soothes the mark.
“Fuck, look at you,” he murmurs against my skin, voice rough. “Shaking already, and I haven’t even taken these off yet.” His fingers brush the edge of my panties, deliberately teasing, not crossing the line.
The heat in my belly twists tighter. I arch toward him, desperate, but he only smirks, kissing higher, closer, without giving me what I want.
Hunter kisses me again through the thin cotton, lips firm and deliberate. The wet heat of his mouth makes me jolt.
A broken sound tears out of me, half gasp, half moan. He lingers, breath hot against the fabric, before pressing in firmer like he’s already claimingwhat’s underneath. My hips lift without my permission.
Hunter pulls back just enough to look up, eyes dark, voice wrecked. “Fuck…” he mutters, low and rough. “You’re already soaked for me.”
