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I moan, and he cups my ass and pulls me closer, so I can feel him, big and hard, through what I can now see are boxer briefs. My hand comes out of his pants and I rock against him just a little; he groans and grips my hand in his. He thumbs me through my shorts and I whimper as his fingers push past my underwear to stroke over my lips.
“Hunter,” I pant, and his finger glides inside.
I could die happy right here, but then we would be Hunter 2, Elizabeth 0, and I can’t let that score stand.
Using every bit of willpower I have, I reach around his arms, pushing past the elastic of his boxer-briefs to cup his head. My fingers glide down on each side of his cock and he moans, pressing his forehead against mine, kissing my mouth. His is open, panting. "Elizabeth."
The way he says my given name, all breathless and lustful, is conditioning. I wrap my fingers around him, pumping him near the top. With my other hand I cup his balls. I'm surprised by how heavy they feel.
The hand that's stroking his cock moves over his head, finding it slick. I made Hunter wet. That thought makes me wet. His cock is pulsing and when I glide up and down again, he lays his cheek against my shoulder, holding onto my back with one hand while his other teases my clit.
"Libby..."
The nickname brings me back to the here and now, and I loosen my grip on him. His hand, holding onto my shoulder, trails down to cup my ass; his fingers in my panties shove deeper inside and I feel pressure building there. I shift my hips, desperate to relieve it.
"Hunter," I groan. I feel shaky, almost scared.
He tugs me to him, lifting me up and carrying me across the room. We go through a big, glass door and into somewhere hot—the sauna, where he gently lays me out on one of the benches. I watch through lust-heavy eyes as he grabs a red towel and lays it on the wood plank floor; then he lifts me in his arms again and spreads me out. My pants are unzipped and folded down. His hand is moving and I'm gasping.
Hunter West.
Oh, yes.
No. I shouldn't be doing this.
"You're with Priscilla," I whimper.
He laughs, a hard, dry sound. "I'm not."
"I don't even...know you," I pant. It doesn't matter to me, but it should.
He thumbs my clit and I arch against his hand. "What’s to know?"
He's kissing my breasts, with one finger inside me. I've got one hand inside his boxer-briefs, and he is groaning in my ear.
This is wrong, this is so wrong. I know it is, but I can't stop.
"We're in a bathroom. I must be crazy."
"Sauna," he pants.
Then his finger glides out of me and skates over my clit. I clench my knees around his arm, barely able to keep my hand on his cock moving as I tremble.
"I can't do this," I whimper, although I obviously am doing it.
He rests his hand atop my mound, but I still have him by the shaft. My hand trembles, and it must feel good, because he shuts his eyes. As he does, his hips rock into me, and heat blooms all over my hand. His eyes flip open and I'm shocked to find that this is...wow.
I blink up at him, fuzzily aware that Hunter is coming and I should stroke him. He groans so loudly it hurts my ears, and his hands come down on my shoulders.
He pants, and drops his head against my shoulder in a way I love. I cup his cheek. My mind is racing, and as my pulse calms, I ask, only loud enough to rise above the sound of our deep breathing, "Why do you call me Libby?"
He lifts his head, his eyes on mine. His softens, like he's remembering something nice. "I used to know someone named Libby. She was kind...and when I met you, you reminded me of her."
I flush with shame. So the name is not for me. Of course not. He's dating a porn star, for crying out loud. Is he like this with everyone, I wonder? Sex on a stick, making women everywhere drop what they're doing and give him a hand-job in club bathrooms? I think about his back, unable to reconcile the grisly wounds with the look of kindness burning in his eyes right now. He must be some kind of fiend.
I draw my hands back to my sides, scooting away so I dislodge the hand that's still in my panties. I'm staring at his handsome face while telling myself that this is it. This insanity with Hunter West is over now.
"Libby, what's—" wrong?
