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Hunter picked up the first letter and began to open it. “Dynamics?”
She laid her hand over the letters—so he couldn’t read them too early and bolt—and gestured at the couch. “Shall we sit?”
She half-expected him to decline, but after a moment’s hesitation, he followed. Discreetly, she glanced at his crotch. He was already hard with wanting her, unable to control himself. In that moment, she loved his virginity.
Gretchen slid a little closer to Hunter, leaning over his arm and pressing her breast against him, pretending interest in the letters she’d handed him. “I think if we’re able to act out some of the things that are described, it’ll be easier for me to write them. I’m a visual learner, after all.”
“I see.” His gaze moved toward her, and then he glanced away as if burned.
She noticed he was careful to keep his good side of his face toward her, and a little part of her heart ached to see that. Did he truly think he was so hideous that he needed to hide who he was? The scars were not beautiful, but they were fascinating. They made him different.
She liked different.
“Shall we start, then?” She reached for the first letter and brushed her breast against his arm again, her nipple hardening at the contact. Gretchen had to stifle a moan of pleasure. He was so big, hard, and warm against her and he smelled divine. Hell, give her a few more minutes of this torture and she’d be rubbing up against him like a cat in heat. “Why don’t I read the first one? You can read the next.”
“Very well,” Hunter said. She noticed his gaze had moved from the letters to her breasts.
Gretchen cleared her throat politely, unfolded the first letter, and then peeked over at him. “There is a man and a woman mentioned in this letter. I’ll be Lula, and I’d appreciate it if you can be Ben for me.”
He gave a quick nod.
“My dearest Ben,” Gretchen began in a soft voice. “It has been thirty days since we last saw each other. How languidly time passes when I am not in your arms. How achingly slow the sun moves through the skies, and the days cycle into evening. The nights are the hardest for me.” She peeked up at him again, but he hadn’t moved away. Encouraged, she continued. “It seems the darkest hours are our time, my love. Last night I had a dream of our most recent party together. I remember that you found me in the dark. You put your hand on mine and guided it to your lips.”
A hint of a frown touched Hunter’s mouth, bunching the scars on his cheek. He reached for her hand. Fascinated, she was so distracted by his touch she almost missed the graze of his mouth over her knuckles, and she felt heat flash through her anew.
Gretchen’s voice grew a little shaky as she read on. “Then, it was like you changed your mind on what you wished to do to me. You took my hand and raised it over my head, pinning it there. I remembered that you held me down on the sofa and your weight settled over me.”
Hunter stiffened against her, and Gretchen thought he would refuse her. Then he laced his fingers in hers and lifted her hand over her head. In a swift move that left her breathless, he pushed her down to the couch, his weight settling over her and between her legs.
His face was close enough to kiss, his breath brushing against her skin. His gaze moved over her face, and Gretchen felt a hint of nerves.
He studied her. “Was this a plan to get me to touch you?” he asked softly. His thumb caressed her wrist, his eyes boring into hers.
“Who, me?” She gave him an innocent look. “I just wanted you to help me act through some of the letters.”
“Mmmhmmm.”
She shifted her hips, wriggling underneath him a little until she felt his cock cradled against her hips. A sigh of pure pleasure escaped her. “I might have had a slight ulterior motive. Slight.”
His thumb continued to stroke her wrist and he said nothing. Just that small motion was driving her
wild. With his weight settled between her legs and that small touch teasing her, she definitely understood Lula’s sentiments.
“What comes next?” he asked huskily.
“Let me see,” she whispered, distracted when his hand began to slide down her thigh. “My pantaloons are damp with arousal just thinking of your touch. I think of your lips grazing over my skin. How you’d rip my clothing away and bury your face into my feminine petals, determined to make me cry out with delight. You would taste me and please me even as your hands reached up to caress my breasts.” Gretchen fanned her face with the letter. “Whew. Sounds wild.”
He ignored her chatter, carefully sliding his hand away from her wrist and moving it down her torso. He hovered for a moment over her breast and then, ever so slowly, laid his palm against her breast through her shirt. His thumb grazed over her nipple and she sucked in a breath, surprised at how good that felt.
Hunter looked down at her breasts, his own breathing speeding in time with hers. Very gently, he circled his cupped hand on her breast, kneading the flesh and catching the nipple between his fingers and plucking at it.
She whimpered, biting her lip and angry at herself for making noise. The look on his face was so incredibly intense that she hated to interrupt—she didn’t want him to stop, not for anything.
He continued to caress her breast and whispered, “What did the letter say again?”
“Um.” She forced her gaze away from him. His fingers were playing on one of her nipples, coaxing it into an even stiffer peak, and her pulse was pounding at the junction of her thighs. She rocked her hips slightly as she shifted to read the letter again, enjoying the feel of his cock pressed against her pussy. She forced herself to focus on the letter. “I think of your lips grazing over my skin.”
“Lips on skin?” He lifted his hand off her breast and began to slowly push up her shirt, seemingly gaining confidence with every moment that passed. He pushed her shirt up around her neck, exposing her bra cups and her belly. He looked down at her in wonder and ran the backs of his fingers over her bare skin, then leaned into kiss the swell of her breast.
