Page 44 of Hunt Me
My knees buckle. He catches me easily, supporting my weight as pleasure spikes through me, sharp and overwhelming.
“You like being hunted,” he murmurs against the back of my neck. “Like knowing I could catch you anytime I want. That I’m faster, stronger, better at this game than you are.”
“No.” But my hips roll forward, chasing his touch.
“Liar.” He slides two fingers inside me, and I cry out. “Your pussy’s telling me the truth even when your mouth won’t.”
He pumps his fingers slowly, deliberately, thumb pressing circles against my clit. The dual sensation builds too fast, pleasure coiling tighter with each stroke.
“I felt it the first time I cornered you,” he says. “Felt how much you wanted this. How much you needed someone who could catch you.”
He pulls his fingers out, leaving me empty and aching.
“What—”
Alexi spins me to face him, grip bruising on my hips. His eyes are wild in the moonlight, pupils blown wide with lust.
Then he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean.
My breath stops. Dies in my throat as I watch him taste me, watch his tongue slide along each digit with deliberate slowness.
“Christ.” His eyes flutter closed. “You taste even better than I imagined.”
Heat floods through me—embarrassment and raw arousal twisting together until I can’t separate them. Can’t think past theimage of his lips wrapped around his fingers, of him savoring me like I’m something he’s been craving.
“That’s—” My voice breaks. “You can’t just?—”
“I can do whatever I want.” His eyes snap open, pinning me in place. “You agreed to be mine for the night. Remember?”
My heart hammers against my ribs. The rational part of my brain screams that this is wrong, that I should push him away and run.
But the rest of me?
The rest of me wants to drop to my knees right here.
“One night,” I manage. “That doesn’t mean?—”
“Doesn’t mean what?” He crowds closer, backing me against the wall. Concrete digs into my spine. “That I can’t touch you? Taste you? Make you come so hard you forget your own name?”
My knees threaten to give out. “This is insane.”
“Yeah.” His hand slides into my hair, fisting the strands. “It is.”
He yanks my head back, exposing my throat. I gasp, pulse jumping beneath my skin where his eyes track the movement.
“Tell me you don’t want this.” His lips hover a breath away from my racing pulse. “Tell me you want me to stop, and I will.”
I open my mouth.
Nothing comes out.
Because I can’t lie to him. Can’t pretend that every nerve in my body isn’t screaming for more.
“That’s what I thought.” His teeth graze my throat, not quite biting. “You want this just as badly as I do.”
He lifts me onto an old table shoved against the wall. Dust clouds rise around us as my ass hits the surface, but I barely notice because his hands are already pushing my dress up my thighs, bunching the silk around my waist.
“Wait—” My protest dies as he drops to his knees between my legs.
