Page 59 of Because I Liked A Boy
When it eases, I’m a trembling mess. He slips his fingers free and stares at them like they’re holy, then groans and sucks them clean. It should embarrass me. It only roots me deeper in him.
“Let me clean you up,” he says.
“Yes,” I whisper, and panic flares at the thought of space. I catch his wrist.
“No. Your tongue. Clean me with your tongue.”
His grin turns feral. “Fuck, princess.” He settles between my thighs again and breathes me in, hot and close. “You have no idea what you’ve asked for.”
He pauses to look up, pupils blown. “You sure?”
“Yes. Now.” My voice is raw and certain.
He answers with one long, flat lick, bottom to top. My back bows and a sound tears free I couldn’t hold if I tried. He licks again, slower, learning me, then faster, building until I’m keening. His mouth is greedy and reverent in the same breath. He eats like it’s a need.
“Cum on my tongue,” he rasps between strokes, voice ruined. “Let me drink you.”
I do. I give in to his mouth and the filthy worship. The orgasm hits hard and full. He works me through it until I’m shaking, the sheets a wreck around us.
He pulls back at last and kisses the inside of my thigh, then looks up with that wrecked grin. “You did so good,” he murmurs. “Perfect for me.”
Something in his tone lands harder than anything else. No pity. No sugar. Just reverence. My chest aches.
He crawls up my body, mouth slick, and kisses me slow. The taste is sharp and intimate, and I lean in, hungry for all of it.
When he breaks for air he breathes, “You’re going to kill me, princess.” Then, soft and certain, “Now that I’ve had a taste, we’re not friends.”
The words should terrify me. They feel like a promise I’ve been craving. I press my forehead to his. “I don’t want friends,” I whisper. “I want you.”
His grin turns feral and tender at once. He folds me into his arms, the world shrinking to our breath and the steadying beat in his chest, and for the first time in a long time I let myself believe that could be enough.
His words still hang in the air when his mouth leaves mine, his breath hot against my cheek. I’m wrecked and trembling, but he doesn’t push. He looks at me like I’ve already given him everything. My chest aches under the weight of it, because part of me knows he’s right. I’m his now, whether I meant to be or not. God help me, I don’t want to fight it.
He brushes a damp strand from my face, knuckles gentle against my skin. “Stay here,” he says, low and certain. “I’m running you a bath. You need cleaning up after what I just did to you.”
Heat sparks again, but before I can answer he’s gone. Water thunders intoporcelain. Steam curls into the hall. His voice follows, rough and sure, like he knows I’ll obey.
“Strip in your room, princess. Then come to me.”
My breath stutters. The command shouldn’t make my chest tighten like this, but I’m already moving, fingers trembling as I peel my shirt over my head. Every piece I shed feels like stepping deeper into something I swore I didn’t want.
I told myself I’d never let anyone matter this much again. Standing bare, heart pounding, I can’t deny it. I need him. There’s no going back. Worse, I don’t want to.
For the first time since Maplewood, I don’t crave escape. I don’t ache for the life I left. I want this—his arms, his voice, his wrecked smile. I want a life here with Hunter Hayes.
All because I liked a boy.
I strip down to a white vest and matching bra and almost laugh, stupidly grateful I wore decent underwear to work. Getting eaten out by Hunter Hayes wasn’t on my bingo card. I tug the vest off, unhook the bra, and keep moving.
By the time I step into the hall I’m bare. It doesn’t feel like defeat. It feels like surrender.
At the bathroom door I stop. Hunter’s shirtless on the tile, leaning over the tub to test the water, one tattooed arm braced against the rim. Ink and muscle, steam sliding over his skin.
Hot damn.
He looks carved out of sin. And he’s mine. That thought is the most dangerous of all, because I’ve never wanted to claim anyone this badly.
“I want him,” slips out before I can catch it. “Every inch. I want to drown here.”
