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That’s true. I have no idea what’s in those files. Libby Bernard hadn’t looked at them in seven or eight years, she said. But it doesn’t matter. “I don’t know, but that’s not the point. I think the FBI already knows about the cover up, which sure as shit makes me look guilty. Even if they don't, in the court of public opinion, I’m fucked. And when I get charged for Sarabelle’s murder, I’m doubly so.”
“So we have to set the record straight,” she says. “We have to try. Please try. Please.” She kisses my mouth, and I can't help groaning. “Libby. You're so good.”
“You are.”
She's tugging at my gym shorts, and all of a sudden I'm hard as fucking rock and aching for her. I sweep her hair out of her face and press my palms against her warm cheeks. “Libby, are you sure?”
She knows what I’m asking, and she leans in closer for a kiss. As I lap into her sweet, warm mouth, I realize I just told her. I just told her everything. My eyes flip open and I squeeze her shoulder. “You don't care? What I told you—it doesn't...change anything?”
“Hell yeah, it changes things. It makes me want to kill your father, but that’s about it.”
I let out a long breath, and she shakes her head. “I’m so made for you, that you had to go through that. That you still are.” She leans her head against my cheek. “But does it change my feelings for you? No.”
That's all I need to hear. I swoop her up, throw her over my shoulder, and stomp to the bedroom doing my cave man impression. She’s trying to grab my ass and giggling as I spank hers. I carry her to the green room—it’s clean, this time—and toss her on the pillow-stacked bed. I climb up after her and tug her shirt over her head.
“I think it's time to cash that check.”
“Yes, please,” she gasps.
My cock twitches as my gaze rakes her shirtless body, and I bend over and start to work her bra. “Is this okay?” I murmur between our kisses.
“Oh yes.” She leans up, kissing my throat as her warm hands pulls my shorts down, and when my dick springs out, I swear to God she actually shivers.
“Oh...Hunter. I want you so badly.”
“You can have me. But I want to taste you first.”
*
~ELIZABETH~
His eyes are molten as he crawls over my limp body and pinches my nipple in between his teeth. “Oh,” I moan. “Hunter!”
He sucks me for another second before he lifts up and kisses both my eyelids, then my cheeks, my nose, my mouth. He's breathing hard, and his dick is rubbing against my thigh.
I lean up and kiss his mouth. “I want you inside me.”
He nods, his shoulders rising and falling with his need. “No promises, remember? You know I can't yet.”
I stroke his jaw, feeling warm inside because he said 'yet'. “I only need you, Hunter. I just need to know you feel this, too—right now.”
“Yes. I feel you.” He cups his hand between my legs and glides a finger inside. I'm wet and ready for him. I reach down between his legs and gently stroke his head. He pushes himself into my hand. His breath is coming in harsh tugs, and I can tell by the way he kisses my mouth that he's getting hungry.
“Christ,” he pants, “you're so beautiful.”
“You are.” I kiss his shoulder and his pec and his mouth and his knuckles. He's got his fingers inside me and I'm trembling and needy.
“Please, Hunter.”
I roll over the edge with a shuddering gasp, and Hunter reaches for the drawer beside the bed. He pulls out a rubber and I sit up a little. “Can I help?”
I work it over his weeping, plum-sized head, and he gasps as I curl it down his shaft.
He dips down and licks me one more time, and slides another finger in. “You're so wet.”
“Ready for you,” I say, breathless. I want to scream it at him.
He crouches his body over me, leaning down to nibble at my throat. “It’s going to hurt. I wish it didn't.”
