Page 35 of Make Me Hunt
I try to distract myself, I really do, but the second he sets me back on my feet and closes the door behind us, it all gets too real.
It’s just us, desire burning through our veins, like magnets attracting in the silence of the room. I want to say something stupid—to throw a tantrum for him carrying me around like I couldn’t walk. Or maybe just pick a fight with him for showing off with that blonde or for making me stand. All. Fucking. Night. Truth is, if he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have this urge bubbling beneath my skin.
I still deserve revenge, so I slap him. My hand connects with his face, and even if I can’t see clearly in the dark, I know he’s shocked by my gesture. “Don’t play with me again,” I threaten, even if it’s a lie. I want him to play with me—maybe all night long; just not the way he did earlier by showing off that blonde.
But I don’t give him time to process it, though. He got what he deserved, now we can move on with the night. And I don’t wait a second to act. My lips crash against his, my arms wrap around his neck for support as I have to rise on my toes to kiss him.
I can feel his grin as he responds to my lips, even lets out a low chuckle. I swear it’s the most delicious sound I’ve ever heard. He’s not mad I slapped him. He’s intrigued.
The rhythm of our kiss quickly escalates into a fight for supremacy, and before I know it, we’re tearing each other’s clothes off. My dress drops to the floor, and I’m not sure if it’s still in one piece. His shirt definitely isn’t. And I feel a little sorry about it, because I loved that ‘20s gangster look on him.
Still, as much as I would’ve liked him to keep the suspenders, I have to watch them go. I’ve seen him without the shirt before when I was spying on him, like the morally conflicted voyeur I am, but never so up close. This is something that has to change, immediately. Even though it’s dark, and I can’t really tell what the drawings on his body represent, the ink shadows on his skin call for my touch. My lips descend to trace them, like I’m some damn archaeologist searching for a forbidden treasure.
God, he tastes like heaven. Smells like heaven too. Or maybe it’s just hell, because I know this man is the greatest sin.
My hands move to unbuckle his belt, and just brushing over the material makes me realize how big he must be. My breath hitches, feeling the metal hiding beneath his boxers, and the urge to taste him swallows every other thought.
His hand plays with my hair as I push his pants down, anticipation ringing in my ears. His boxers follow, and I tremble at the sight of his cock.
Is that nine or teninches?
I swallow down the flood of saliva invading my mouth as I take in how massive he is and count the seven piercings forming a Jacob's Ladder.
Suddenly, I have second thoughts because there’s no way that thing will fit inside me. And, at the same time, I tremble to feel the damage it will do.
My clit twitches at the thought. Greedy little bastard, the same as my pussy.
I trace my tongue over each one of the piercings, all the way down to his tip, where I slowly stop at his opening and flick my tongue over the taste of his pre-cum.
I’m dripping. And it’s not just leftover arousal from the car.
I take him in, trying to get his length to fit inside my mouth, even though it seems impossible. He’s so fucking big that I might actually choke on the damn thing. Or worse, make it out alive with it lodged in my mouth and end up in the ER. Imagine that.
I’m pretty sure I hear him growl as he hits the back of my throat. “My little curse, I’m going to fucking ruin you.” He groans as if he’s on the edge of losing sense of reality. I don’t know if it’s a threat or a promise, but it sounds like pure temptation to me. It only makes me take him deeper, creating a vacuum inside my mouth that instantly shatters his breathing.
It’s not the first time I’ve done this, but it’s the first time I’ve actually enjoyed it. The first time I live to give someone pleasure, and not just to get him under my control—though the second would benefit me right now.
His hands find their way around my hair, fisting it as I move faster and faster, my hands working the whole base of him. It’s like I’m hunting each one of his groans, waiting breathlessly for the next one. But he stops me right when I feel him on the verge of giving in.
Without warning, he lifts me to my feet only to throw me onto the bed. He takes a moment to look at me, like he’s trying to decide how he’ll ruin me first. Then grabsmy knees and spreads me wide open. I’m still wearing my panties along with my garter belt and stockings, but he doesn’t seem in a hurry to strip them off.
At least not the garter belt, because he rips my panties aside so his tongue can make room between my folds.
The wet heat of his tongue drives my head into the mattress, arching my body like my spine’s about to break. I have no idea what’s happening—or why no other man’s ever been able to get this reaction out of me. But I need more.
He pushes my thighs so wide that I am under the impression they’re about to tear. Still, the burning sensation fades into the background the moment his tongue intrudes. He takes no time to lap at my entrance, testing my channel, or maybe just preparing me for thatsurreal thinghe kept in his pants until now. He’s alternating between nibbling my clit with plunging his tongue inside of me, and I know he’s something I’m not supposed to want, but right now, he’s the only thing real in my world. The only thing that’s ever made sense.
My hips catch a life of their own, pressing into him as his mouth never abandons me, like his whole purpose in life is to please me.
This feels so fucking amazing, almost too good to be real. If this is a dream, I don’t ever want to wake up. But this is only the beginning because his digits replace his tongue, while his mouth concentrates just on my clit in a full assault on my senses. It makes me feel like the damn thing’s about to disintegrate.
He sucks hard, and I can’t stop myself from moaning. Over and over and fucking over again.
I have no idea what’s happening to me, and even less clue how to stop it. Not that I want to stop it, but it feels like when he's done with me, he’ll do something irreparable—maybe even rewrite my whole body’s chemistry.
He keeps going, circling my clit with his tongue, fingers searching inside me to find that spot that would make me shudder while one of his hands grabs my hips so hard it hurts. And I welcome the pain. I need the pain to keep me hooked on him.
“Show me how hard you come for me,” he whispers, his breath against my sensitive skin, sinking into my body as a command.
