Page 74 of Bleacher Report
He climbs off me slowly, his body pulling away like we’re still magnetized together. Like it's taking every bit of his effort to pull apart from me.
The moment he steps out of bed, he gazes down at my bare body, the comforter pushed off from when he got up. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
I suck in my lower lip, trying not to squirm at him taking me in.
Then he slides his thumb across the screen to accept the call. And starts for the bedroom door. “Hey, Dale...yeah, I was in the middle of something. What’s up, can you make it fast?”
I watch carefully, eyeing how far it is from the bed to my nightstand with my vibrator in it. I need release so bad it almost hurts. Next, I eyeball the distance of the bathroom.
If I can get to my vibrator and then to the bathroom, I might be able to get this done before he even knows I’m gone. It wouldn’t take long. I’m already on the edge from the wet dream and rubbing against Hunter for hours, and then him flipping me onto my back and rubbing himself between my thighs, his fingers playing with my clit. I’m on a hairpin trigger at this point.
Quickly, I jump to the other side of the bed and open the drawer.
“She’s offering all of those players for me? No, I know it’s not a done deal but… Have you talked to Kauffman yet?” I hear him ask his agent.
I’m running out of time, and I have to run past him to get to the bathroom door.
I spin around, my pink vibrator in my hand and head straight for the bathroom, almost home free while he stays distracted.
“Not yet? Okay, but you’ll tell me if the Hawkeyes seem like they are entertaining the deal? Right, okay, thanks for calling,” he tells him.
He ends the call just as I’m about to pass him and then he spins around, hearing me coming.
“Where do you think you’re going with that?” he asks.
Just before I get past him, he scoops an arm around my ribs and hauls me up his body, pulling me to the end of the bed, seating me on his lap, facing the full-length mirror against the wall.
He uses his thighs to nudge mine apart, spreading me open in front of the mirror.
The reflection shows everything—my flushed skin, my parted lips, the way I’m sitting on top of him, completely bare, my thighs spread wide over the thick outline of his boxer-covered cock. My nipples are tight, my breathing shallow, and my pussy lips gleam under the low light like I’ve already surrendered.
And I have.
God, I have.
Hunter’s arms wrap around me from behind, holding me steady, his chest solid against my back. I can feel every controlled breath he takes, every twitch of restraint beneath me.
“You see that?” he murmurs, voice thick. “That’s what I see every time I close my eyes. You—wet, open, wrapped around me, begging for more, but I never thought you’d let me get this close.”
His words burn with honesty. There’s nowhere to hide. Not from the way I shift on his lap. Not from the slick shine between my thighs. Not from him—not from myself.
His gaze rakes over every inch of me, dark and possessive. “Look at you, Peyton. Dripping for me because you know I’m right here—my attention focused on only you—wanting you. Ready to fuck you with my fingers while you watch me do it.”
He leans in, his voice a growl at my ear. “Your body should be worshipped…by me.”
My breath catches.
My fingers curl tighter around the vibrator.
“Were you planning to run from me and use this instead?” he asks, prying it gently from my grip.
I swallow hard. “You were busy, and I didn’t want to—”
He cuts me off, voice low and razor sharp.
“And you were going to rob me of hearing you come with my fingers buried inside you? When I starred in your dirty little dreams? That doesn’t seem fair.”
My skin heats. I can’t look away from the mirror, from the way he’s behind me now—partially clothed, fully in control—while I’m trembling and bare.
