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“No, I’m good. First time drinking.” I giggle.
“Hey, you wanna go somewhere quieter? Talk more?” His voice is like honey, smooth and sweet.
“Sure,” I say, downing the rest of my drink. Hunter passes me his and stands, holding out his hand for me to take.
Denton is lost in Miranda again, so I don’t bother telling him where I’m going. Anyway, it isn’t his business.
Hunter leads me through an impressively decorated kitchen. It’s all white and chrome. People are making out on every surface, and it makes me nervous. Am I ready to do this? I mean, here in this house full of drunken teenagers? I know what Hunter meant when he suggested going somewhere quieter.
We reach the landing of the stairs when someone grabs my wrist so hard I worry it’ll dislocate. I turn around. “Denton, what the hell?”
“What the fuck, man?” Hunter growls.
“We’re hanging out, Denton. Can you not be such a party pooper?” I shout.
“We’re leaving,” he commands as if he has any business telling me what to do.
“No, we’re not,” I insist, struggling to get my hand out of his grasp.
“Why don’t you go and enjoy the party. We’re just chilling.” Hunter says again, getting into Denton’s face. I know that he hates being challenged, but in truth, Hunter could likely knock the daylights out of Denton, and the thought is exhilarating considering he’s acting like an asshole.
“Guys,” I stay, stepping between them. “Denton, chill the fuck out. I’m sure Miranda or one of the girls can keep you entertained for a while.”
He stares at me, his jaw ticking, and then he turns and walks away down the stairs.
“What’s his deal?” Hunter asks me when we find an unoccupied room.
“He’s just protective. He thinks he’s got to watch over me or something.”
Hunter smiles. “He doesn’t have to worry about you when you’re with me.” I bite my lip at how warm his words make me feel all over. He closes the door behind us. We take a seat on the edge of the bed. I have never been alone with any guy in a bedroom, not even Denton.
“You don’t have to be scared around me,” he assures me in a low voice.
“Aren’t hunters supposed to be dangerous?” I know how cliche that sounds, but I like where this is going.
Hunter places a hand on my cheek, and I lean into it. His other hand caresses my thigh. I like the feel of his rough hands against my skin. “Only when they’re looking for prey.” He leans in, and his lips are centimeters from mine. Could this be my first kiss? With Hunter Sloane?
“Have you found yours?” My voice comes out breathy.
His hands slide between my thighs, and maybe it’s the alcohol or the fact that I am pissed off at Denton, but I let him. It feels so good I have to shut my eyes. His lips press against mine. I have never done this, so I feel inexperienced. He pulls away. “Relax,” he whispers as he claims my lips again. The kiss is slow, sensual, and I ease into it, letting his tongue dance with mine. He continues stroking my thighs. He eases me back onto the bed and hovers over me. My fingers tangle into his hair, tugging at it.
“You’re so beautiful,” Hunter tells me, and when he does, I feel it in my bones. His hands move up my body until he’s slipping down the bodice of my dress, exposing my bare breasts. My face feels like it’s on fire as he lowers his head and latches onto my nipple. I cry out, pleasure taking over as he sucks and bites on my sensitive buds. A small part of me feels like this is moving too fast, but another part doesn’t want this to end.
His hands find their way under my dress again. “Spread your legs, Brianna.”
I do as he tells me, and he rubs his palms over my pussy on the material of my panties. “Oh, God.” I moan.
“Shh,” he tells me. “You’re so wet for me.”
Oh God, this is escalating. “Maybe we should stop,” I say breathlessly.
He hooks his fingers on the side of my panties, and I slide his hands away.
“Don’t you want to let me touch you, Brianna? Make you feel good?” He kisses me again, his hands lifting up my dress.
He pulls down my panties, and I shiver in anticipation. He circles a finger over my sensitive clit. Fuck, this feels so good. He strokes me, and I’m aware of the wetness growing between my legs. The need to explode is so close I can feel it. His movements quicken, and he slides a digit inside me while pressing on my clit, I cry out an orgasm, and he presses his lips to mine again. I’m not new to orgasms. I’ve touched myself before but having someone else do it is mind-blowing.
He kisses my cheeks, then my neck, settling between my legs. I have no idea when his pants disappeared, but he starts to rub his bare cock over my pussy. I suddenly feel uncomfortable. He’s thick and hard. Yes, I want to make-out, but I don’t think I want to have sex right now, not this drunk or with a guy I barely know.
