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His beard has grown but he keeps it groomed. His dark hair curls at his nape and I swear, each time I see him his muscles grow larger.
“Once in a while. When I need to get away,” he says distantly, swirling his wine some more on the counter before sipping it carefully.
I mimic his movements, all but moaning when the velvet liquor touches my tongue and slides down my throat. His sapphire eyes watch me, pupils dilating as I swallow the wine and sit back in my chair.
“So, nobody knows you’re here? I take it your dad thinks that you’re just away in Napa?” I ask, looking up at his handsome face as he stares at me with a lust filled expression, making that space between my legs ache even more.
“Yes,” he says, thickly, gripping the stem of his wine glass as he stares me down like a predator in the wild.
“And what will he think when you don’t come back with any wine?” I tease, licking my lips as my body blooms under his dark gaze.
“He won’t think anything, cause I’ll already come back drunk,” he says, his eyes going to my breasts as my cardigan opens and displays my cleavage in my black tank top.
He looks like he wants to eat me, like he could reach over and swallow me whole without chewing. I gulp down the rest of my wine, feeling hot under his stare as his eyes lick their way up and down my body.
“Well then, there’s a bar downstairs and plenty of open rooms, I’m sure,” I whisper as he lets go of his glass and walks around the counter, stalking me and stopping a breath away as he bites his lip, his mustache twitching.
“I already have a room,” he gruffs out, his eyes glued to mine.
“Where?” I ask, lost in his ocean eyes.
“Right...here,” he says, his hand skimming my thigh before it reaches my jean covered sex.
He cups it in his hand, bending down to inhale my throat. I gasp, tensing in his hold as he pulls back to look at me, his hot hand still cupping my pussy.
“You’re not staying in here with me, Hunter,” I say, hating the words as they leave my lips.
I want him to stay here. I want to feel him grip my thighs like he gripped his wine glass, to drink me down like I’m that rich, red liquid he loves to indulge in.
“But I am, flower. And I’d like to start making myself at home, right fucking now,” he says, his other hand going to my waist as he pulls me up from my chair and slams me against his tall, hard body.
I can see his muscles bunch and flex beneath his white t-shirt, his denim jack straining against his thick biceps as his wranglers hug his massive legs. God, he’s so fucking hot. I’ve never been attracted to this type of man, but if I’m being honest, there is no other type of man quite like Hunter Brooks.
“Does my flower miss me, Red? Does she miss the way my tongue and cock pluck her?” he growls, nose skimming my hair as his hand cups my pussy tighter, my mouth clamped shut as I bite back a deep moan.
“No,” I whisper, looking up into his eyes as he leans back, his tongue snaking out and tracing my lips, gathering a drop of wine that sits in the corner.
“Liar. I think she missed me a lot, but let’s check and see just how much,” he says, unzipping my jeans as I let him, unable to stop his warm hands from exploring my flesh.
The rough pads of his fingers dip in past my panties, finding my clit with a growl as a whimper sneaks past my lips.
“Oh god, baby. She did miss me. She missed me so much,” he coos, pulling my jeans and panties down as he sinks to his knees beneath me, staring at my sex as he licks his lips.
“Why are you looking at it like you’re hungry?” I laugh, feeling nervous.
He looks up into my eyes, a smile spreading across his lips. A slow, sinister, but beautiful smile. Aimed directly atme.
“Because I am hungry,” he growls, his hands grabbing both of my ass cheeks, bringing my sex closer to his open mouth, his breath warming my already heated flesh.
“You just ate…” I whisper, anticipation building with my increasing desire.
“Mmm, but I haven’t had dessert,” he growls before dipping his head back down, sucking my entire pussy into his mouth as I grip the counter with my hand, the other going to his hair as I gasp his name.
The feeling of his mouth on me is otherworldly, intense and consuming. He eats me slow and hard, his teeth skimming my swollen clit as his hot tongue circles my entrance, making me shake in his tight grasp. He yanks me forward again, his rough fingers biting into the tender flesh of my asscheeks as he practically swallows my cunt with his amazing mouth. A mouth that says dirty things and does even filthier acts. Acts that I find I love playing in.
“God, you taste so fucking sweet, Ali,” he groans against my wet flesh.
I tremble when I hear my name on his lips, loving the sound more than I love the nicknames that he’s given me, which I’ve grown to love as well. It seems I’ve grown to love a lot of things when it comes to this man, the man that I’m supposed to hate, but can’t.
