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Holy crap.
The capability to form thoughts in whole sentences fled, because Hunter stepped out of the bathroom and into the hall. Single words exploded in her brain like fireworks. Hunter. Wet. Towel. Please.
She didn’t remember moving, but the next thing she knew, her hands slid across smooth, damp skin stretched taught over bulging shoulders. She wanted to loiter there, because the firm contours fit so perfectly in her palms, but his chest distracted her. She fanned her fingers over the warm, hard muscles, and felt the beat of his heart beneath her right hand. He drew in a breath, expanding his chest and sending her hands on a slow slide downward.
Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice scolded her to stop treating Hunter like her own, personal playground, but the faint echo of conscience couldn’t stop her fingers from following the slope of his pecs into the narrow channel etched down the center of his chest. Another, more urgent voice cautioned her this brewing attraction might involve riskier ingredients than hormones and pheromones, but the warning didn’t override the compulsion to trace the spot where the gulley flared into a diamond-shaped shallow, before angling down to divide the hills and valleys of his torso into eight distinct parcels. A line of crisp, blond hair led south from his navel. She stayed the course, dipping lower, until she hooked the edge of the towel. A long, hard ridge jutted just alongside her curled fingers. The sight sent hot, itchy flames licking under her skin, something that could only be soothed from within.
“Hunter?”
“Goddammit, yes.” The towel landed on the carpet with a hushed thud, but before she could feast her eyes on the prize, he slammed his mouth down on hers. She dove into the kiss—clasped one hand at the back of his neck and ran her nails over the length his erection.
He shivered, and then his tongue went wild in her mouth, thrusting deep, electrifying other vulnerable recesses in her body. A groan vibrated between them. Hers? His? Maybe hers, because he slowly drew back until their lips barely touched. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something, but she didn’t know what. Cody hadn’t required much in the way of conversation. At a loss, she blurted the first thing that sprang to mind.
“You came home in a little bit of a snit.”
Wow. That’s your line? Really?
Low laughter flowed into her mouth. “I did. Make me pay for it, Madison.” His big hand covered hers, closing her fingers around him and then tightening her hold. “Get a good, hard grip, drag your hand up my cock, and make me feel the pull all the way to my balls.”
She did as he instructed. Once. Twice. Then in rhythmic succession, increasing the speed and pressure as she went. His head tipped forward, eyes closed, and he rested his forehead against hers. Breath fanned her face in sharp, uneven pants. She kissed his lips, jaw, chin, and trailed her mouth to the hollow at the base of his throat. Salt from his skin mixed with alkaline hints of his soap.
Hungry to taste more, she knelt, and switched to a top-down hold on him, which provoked a ragged curse even before her lips roamed lower. Long fingers threaded into her hair, massaging her scalp while she trailed her open mouth down his abs.
“You’re really gonna punish me, aren’t you?”
“Uh-huh.” God, this felt good—unbelievably empowering—having his strong, gloriously masculine body shudder with need. For her. Months of ignoring and suppressing an
y remotely sexual urges, combined with a trimester of being viewed like a ticking time bomb by most men she’d encountered, left her aching for solid proof she was still capable of inspiring lust.
Solid proof throbbed just below her lips. She looked up at Hunter. His glazed eyes landed on her, and his hand tightened in her hair. “Do it,” he whispered. “Kiss it, lick it, suck me in deep and make me need to come so bad it hurts. Anything you want. Just put that sweet mouth on me.”
The words abolished any lingering doubts. She swirled her tongue over his wide, blunt head. He shivered, and the hand on her scalp grew heavy. With her fist tight around his shaft, just above the juncture where it angled away from his body, she sealed her lips over his tip and slowly took him in.
“Jesus, that’s good,” he murmured and pulled her hair back from her face. It took her a moment to figure out why he bothered, but then it hit her. He wanted to watch.
She did her best to give him a good show, moving her mouth up, down and around every inch within her reach. Other things were within her reach, too. She slid her free hand down the small of his back and cupped one flexing glute. Judging by the sounds coming out of his throat, he enjoyed her efforts. But she couldn’t help thinking his balls deserved a little attention, too. She abandoned her post with a fleeting line of kisses along the raised ribbon of vein running all the way down his length. Sitting back on her ankles and angling her head brought her next targets into sight. She leaned up and nuzzled the cool, soft flesh—quite possibly the only soft part of his carved-from-granite body.
“Fuuuuck.” The word rumbled up from his chest. He tipped his head back and braced a hand against each wall. She kissed each fragile sac, taking them gently into her mouth, while her fingernails raked his very tight, very smooth ass. When she flicked her tongue up the line dividing the boys, he began to beg. Or Hunter’s version of begging, at any rate.
“Christ. Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop until I’m on my knees.”
Could she drive him to his knees? New goal. Her limited repertoire might not be up to the job, but she knew a few tricks. Never letting up with her tongue, she slid two fingers into her mouth, wet them, and reached around to the nerve-packed zone just behind his balls. He stiffened and cursed so bitterly she wondered if she’d accidentally hurt him, but then a single, breathless, “Please,” reached her ears, and reassured her he could take the punishment. She tortured him like that for several moments, keeping her tongue in synch with the movement of her fingers, before she lifted her head and got back to work on the rest of him. Her fingernails still carved patterns on his unprotected ass. She continued stroking and teasing him with her fingers while she took him into her mouth as deep as she could manage.
The hand in her hair relaxed but didn’t quite let go.
“Madison, baby, I’m going to come. Fuck it, I’m going to come for days.” He halted the slight thrust of his hips. “If you don’t like to take it in that pretty little mouth, you need to let—”
She tightened her lips and cut short his noble speech. She didn’t need to do anything except exactly what she was doing right now. She wasn’t a complete novice. She knew how this episode ended, and frankly, she was frantic to go there properly. She wanted the scent and the taste of him. She needed to internalize the moment, make it hers as much as his. That really was the best she could do right now, given her current condition, and they both deserved her best.
A long, low groan served as her final warning, and then his body stiffened and shuddered. His outstretched arms flexed to support him as he came, releasing hot bursts into the back of her mouth. She kept him cradled there for a few extra moments, coaxing everything he had out of him, until he slid down the wall and gathered her into his arms.
“Dammit,” he muttered against the side of her neck.
Dammit, that was amazing, or Dammit, that was out of line? Maybe both. She mentally braced for his reaction, but then he tightened his hold on her and breathed out a highly content sigh. The specter of self-consciousness burned away like mist. Leave it to Hunter to make things easy. No tension. No problems. No awkwardness. She could languish in the pride of reviving her dormant sexual instincts without second-guessing herself. She rained kisses along the angle of his jaw and over the slash of his cheekbone. When she reached his ear, she grinned and whispered, “Sorry about doing the laundry.”
“Holy shit. You’re almost forgiven.”
…
