Page 36

“I’m in control,” he says, and I can feel the soft puffs of air escaping from the mask. “You like that, don’t you?”

“No,” I lie, trying to squirm against him. He’s crushing me down into the mattress, though, and it feels so fucking good to be pinned here.

“Your cunt says otherwise.” He shifts, clothes rustling, hand brushing against my bare ass as he drags my hips up toward him. His cock presses against my entrance, and I cry out, my voice muffled by the pillows. “You’re even wetter than you were yesterday.”

I moan out my frustration. “Fuck me!” I scream into the pillow.

“I told you. Patience.” He pulls back, lifting his weight off me, and rubs his cockhead against my throbbing clit. I’m aware, vaguely, that I could crawl away from him, but now he’s got me trapped in another way. Because he knows how to massage my clit so that I’m already teetering on the edge of an orgasm. I dig my fingers into the blankets, trying desperately to hide my desire even though I know it’s pointless. He’s a Hunter. He can hear all the blood rushing to my clit.

“Oh, what’s this?” he purrs, rocking his hips so his cock slides along my slit without fully going in. “You’re going to come early, too, aren’t you?”

“No!” I cry, although I’m already starting to tip over. He’s got everything positioned just right so that his cock massages my clit, and the heat is building and building.

“I want you to fuck me!” I scream, right as I come, pleasure wracking up into my belly. I moan into the pillows, at once hating that he called it exactly how it happened and loving the intense waves of pleasure rolling through my body.

He laughs, cold and cruel and mocking. Then he shoves his cock into my pussy, my cunt still contracting wildly from my orgasm. I scream again, thrusting back on him, but he digs his hands into my hips to still me.

“I’m in control,” he rasps, and those three words alone are enough to almost make me come a second time. I hate how much I love this. Hate how good he feels as he starts to thrust into my still-sensitive pussy, slow and teasing. Hate that I think I would love it even more if he had me tied down, completely at his mercy.

Victor rolls his hips against mine, and he seems to know exactly how to angle himself to hit that particular spot of flesh just inside my entrance, the one that makes me go weak and boneless. I know he’s using his fucking Hunter senses to do it, too—listening to my heartbeat, to my breath, to all the sounds of my body. Reading me the way he might a book, and then doing exactly what he needs to make me melt into the bed. He doesn’t even need ropes to force me to submit.

Jesus, no human man is ever going to compare to this. Victor’s ruined them for me completely.

He fucks me. Or, more accurately, we fuck each other, because he’s loosened his grip enough that I can slide back on him, our bodies rolling together like a dance. There’s no talking; there’s no need for it. It’s not like my usual hookups, where I have to tell them what to do, giving them directions like we’re driving through a neighborhood. Victor just knows. He knows where to angle his cock against my G-spot and to make sure the bed is rubbing against my clit. He knows when to speed up, when to slow down, when to tease. The only sound in the room is our quickened, panting breaths, the occasional moan from me, the howling of the snowstorm outside.

All I feel is heat and pleasure.

“I’m going to come again,” I whimper, curling the blankets up in my fists. Victor runs his palms over the swell of my hips.

“I know,” he says.

I moan at that, pleasure turning through me. My legs vibrate. The room tightens around us until the whole world is just me and Victor and my sweat-sheened skin and my pent-up ecstasy.

Victor trails his fingers up my spine, his touch soft. Almost tender. He doesn’t once break his rhythm, and the gentle fluttering of his fingers is what undoes me. Everything erupts, and as the pleasure blooms in my blood, I let out a long, howling moan that sounds like the wind outside. Victor still doesn’t stop. His steady rhythm drags out the orgasm until I think wildly that it’s never going to stop, that I’m going to keep coming until my heart explodes, and that is how Victor the Hunter is finally going to kill me.

But of course I don’t die. I come for what seems like an interminably long amount of time, moaning and sighing and melting into the bed. And when it finally ends, when the last waves of pleasure recede, Victor leans over me, and I feel his lips against my skin. At some point in my ecstasy, he took the mask off.

“Where do you want me to come?” he whispers into my ear, cock still thrusting into me.

“Wherever you want,” I breathe out, tilting my head so I can look at him: his damp, curling hair and flushed face. His smile. He smiles at me.

“I want to mark you with my cum.” His voice shakes a little when he says it, like he’s nervous.

I nod. I’d let him do anything to me right now. I think I’d even let him kill me.

“Roll over,” he whispers.

Then he pulls away, his cock sliding out of me. Somehow, I manage to flop onto my back, and I gaze up at him: still fully clothed save for his cock, slick from my orgasm. He shifts between my legs and squeezes his length, jerking off into his fist. He’s rough with himself. Rougher than I thought men liked.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says, and I clench up at the compliment—because I can’t have a Hunter saying shit like that to me. I can’t have myself liking it.

Victor groans, dropping his head back. His cock flashes between his fingers. I shouldn’t let him do this. I don’t belong to him⁠—

You want to belong to him.

—And once he drops me off in Clifwell, I hope I never see him again.

Liar.