by Zoe York
He delivered, stroking her thighs and her hips and her belly, and up to her breasts, cupping her heavy flesh in his hands as he kissed his way up her body—then spun her around and growled in her ear. “Hands on the wall. Don’t let go.”
Don’t let go? There was nothing to hold on to. She was standing through some vague miracle built of muscle memory and locked knees. Holding on was beyond her capabilities at the moment.
And still her sex spasmed, little jolts that said she had no idea what she was getting into, but oh my God, did she ever want more.
Now his hands stroked down her back. He paused at her waist, then jerked her back a bit, folding her body more in half.
He squeezed her bottom, spreading her wider than was decent.
Oh God. Another flood of moisture leaked from her.
His thumbs stroked the very top of the cleft between her ass cheeks, then lower. “Still want me to fuck you?”
She nodded, a gasp shaking loose from her chest.
His fingers ghosted over her rear hole and she clenched in surprise. What was he doing?
Then his touch was gone. She whimpered, and he murmured something she didn’t catch. Before she could unscramble the sounds in her head, she felt him again. His right hand curled around the front of her thigh and—ahhhh—he fisted his cock against her wetness, sliding all the way inside her as she cried out.
That first stroke always took her breath away as her body adjusted to him. But from behind—and bent over this much, with her sex still swollen from the first climax—was something else. He nailed every sizzling nerve ending, every bump and soft nubby spot inside her, and by the time he bottomed out, she was halfway to coming again.
She was stretched wide, full to the point of aching.
It was so good.
Dirty and hot and hard and perfect.
“Hunter,” she gasped, and he grunted, fucking out of her again before thrusting back in.
Another aching stretch. Oh God. Yes, there. That.
“More…”
“You want it harder?”
“Yes!”
“Jesus. Take it.”
She arched her hips and let him give it to her, hard and fast. Rough enough that she couldn’t respond again. Rough enough that when he spoke again, she almost didn’t hear him because she was spinning fast, free-falling.
“I love you,” he gasped, his voice raw and barely there as he said three unexpected, beautiful words. He slammed into her again and her hands skittered across the wall, uselessly grabbing for purchase. “I love you, Serena. You’re mine.”
“I’m yours,” she repeated on the end of a moan. She was going to come again. She’d barely recovered from the last orgasm, and he was churning her desire up for another explosion.
“I adore every last bit of you. Remember that.”
“Hunter!” With a strangled scream, she lost control, and he followed her into it, curling over her body, his hips stuttering against her backside as his release pulsed inside her body.
His breath was hot against her back. His arms solid around her. She let out a shaky exhale, then tapped her hand against the wall. He loosened his grip and she tested her legs. Nope. Not moving anywhere for a second.
He slipped out of her and lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the shower.
Without a word, he turned on the hot water and set her down on her feet, then joined her.
She stood there, silently, waiting for the steam to rise. Maybe it would clear the daze in her head.
“Are you—” he started.
“I’m fine,” she whispered. But was she? He’d said…
She couldn’t even think it.
But he apparently didn’t have the same problem.
“It wasn’t just the sex talking.” He turned her gently and tipped her head back, under the shower head. His fingers—that had fucked her raw and probably left bruises on her hips—now moved gently through her hair.
She closed her eyes, mostly for the water, but a little bit because they’d only been dating for six weeks and tonight was so far out of character for Hunter, she didn’t know what to believe.
“Hey,” he whispered, brushing a kiss against one closed eyelid, then the other. His lips were wet and his words half-obscured by the spray of water around them, but in that moment, he was back.
Her big, sweet, funny man.
Who had just ravaged her, most amazingly so, and then told her he loved her.
“I love you,” he said, his lips tentatively pulling into a smile. She blinked up at him. “Maybe should have told you that already. Or not yet. I don’t know. Never said it before.”
“Oh,” she whispered. “I liked it.”
“Good.” He turned her around and leaned past her, picking up her shampoo. Her heart hammered in her chest as he lathered up her hair, his fingers massaging into her scalp, then spreading the extra bubbles down her shoulders and back, his hands stopping to rest on her hips.
With a sigh, he tugged her back against his front and pressed his cheek against her temple. “Should we talk about the sex?”
“I liked that, too,” she said, her voice cracking. All of it.
“A little rougher than usual.”
“It was good.” Her hands shook as she searched blindly for his fingers.
He squeezed his hands around hers and folded his arms around them both. “Want to do it again like that sometime?”
An unexpected pang shot through her. Yes, she did. But oh God, the Pandora’s box that opened. “Hunter…”
“Mmm?”
She didn’t finish that thought. She couldn’t.
After a stretch of silence, he lifted the shower head off its hook and started to rinse out her shampoo. “You don’t need to say anything about that either way.”
Oh, but she did. She had so much to say, so much inside her, but she didn’t know if he’d like all of it.
If he didn’t, it might break her heart.
So she closed her eyes and nodded.
* * *
Hunter left the shower first, on the pretense of getting her robe from the living room floor.
He really needed a minute to sort himself out. He’d never, ever, ever lost control like that. He could have hurt her, for God’s sake. He didn’t even know where that had come from.
That she had a secret dirty-girl side wasn’t a problem for him at all. That she hadn’t given him any glimpse of it in the six weeks they’d been dating made him wonder why, but he was a patient man. In theory.
But he’d gone out for food, and while he waited for the order to be filled, he’d done some thinking.
He’d planned to talk to her about it like a grown fucking man, but then he’d come back and she’d done that little swishy move with her robe, and flashed some thigh, and he was a goner.
How fucking awkward was it to explain to your girlfriend that her perfectly reasonable sex toy browsing history had turned him into a total deviant?
And again he was hard for her. He could still feel the plump flesh of her ass under his hands, and hear the gasp she made as he rubbed his thumbs over the sensitive crease between her cheeks.
When she came out of the shower five minutes later, her pale skin all dewy soft and her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders in damp, sexy curls, he was waiting for her. He wrapped her in a towel, then exchanged it for the robe, holding her close the entire time.
They ate quietly together, then she held his hand as they moved back into the bathroom to brush their teeth. He watched as she smoothed cream over her face, and at the first yawn, he hustled her into her room.
“Let’s get tucked into bed,” he said gruffly.
She just nodded and laced her fingers back into his.
He’d pulled on boxers, his regular sleeping attire, but she didn’t stop at her dresser as she usually did. Instead she stumbled to the bed, dropping her robe on the floor as she crawled under the covers buck naked.
In a flash, he was under there with
her. She curled up into his side and he pressed a silent kiss to her forehead.
Before he could figure out the next thing to say—maybe you’ve said enough for one night, Romeo—she let out a small, fluttery sigh, and her hand relaxed on his chest.
Well, damn. She really had been tired.
Tomorrow. They’d talk more tomorrow.
Chapter Three
Serena woke up with a start. It was still dark out, but she’d meant to do those two makeup sketches the night before.
She blushed as she felt Hunter rouse beside her, and she forced herself to breathe slowly. Go back to sleep, big guy.
Her plans to sketch had been interrupted when Hunter had taken her hard against the wall in the living room.
Holy crap.
Heat blossomed low in her belly as she relived the hard press of his large body against hers. His fingers squeezing into her flesh.
I love you.
Shit.
And in response, she’d just said that she liked it.
Well that was true. But…
It wasn’t enough. But if she was being honest with herself, how she felt about him was huge, but she wasn’t sure it was love.
Not yet.
Not when she still kept secrets from him.
But what if telling him more about her past would risk what they had?
Last night could have been an opening. Maybe it still would be. She rolled onto her side and slid her hand over his impressive biceps. He gave her a half-smile in his sleep and lifted his arm so she could fold into his chest.
“Morning,” he mumbled.
“Sort of,” she whispered.
“Going to draw?”
Her heart panged at how well he already knew her. “Maybe.”
“Gotta go soon, too.”
His apartment was between her house and the base. He’d swing past there to change into his uniform.
“I can cuddle until you go.”
“Good.” He yawned and made an adorable mumbling sound as he tightened his grip on her.
God, he was perfect.
She was terrified of losing him, even though that was pretty unfair to Hunter—he’d never given her any indication that he was anything other than open-minded and understanding. But on a soul-deep level, Serena was terrified of being judged and measured and found wanting.
But the hard steel of his embrace reminded her of how she’d turned on for him like a switch the night before. How much she missed being dominated.
She needed to find out, one way or the other, how Hunter felt about taking things beyond hot sex.
How he felt about true kink.
But could she find that out without revealing parts of her essential being to him? Without exposing herself to the judgement that might follow?
Or would she have to lay her soul bare for him and hope for the best?
* * *
When Hunter woke up again, Serena was sliding out of bed, and his phone was chirping at him that he was running late.
“I’m sorry,” he groaned as he dashed a hard kiss against her mouth while he zipped up his jeans.
“Go,” she urged. “Dinner tonight? Or come over later?”
The first couple weeks, they’d seen each other a few nights a week. Now he was spending more nights than not at her place, and he didn’t see any reason to stay away. “Yes. One of those things, definitely. Depends how late I’m at work.” His SEAL team was on standby right now, but they had some training coming up and Serena had a trip planned after that. He tugged on her hair, holding her head still as he kissed her again. Her eyes were wide and her mouth wet and flushed when he pulled away. He gently jerked on the strands wound around his hand and her breath hitched.
Interesting.
“Tonight,” he murmured. “Let’s talk more about those dirty things you want me to do.”
She nodded roughly. “Okay.”
But it wasn’t okay, because somehow that night they didn’t talk.
He’d gotten stuck in a briefing that ran late, so by the time they ate, it was late, and while Hunter was game to explore fantasies and the like, he didn’t want to just bring it up randomly.
Not random if it just came up earlier today. And last night. And your girlfriend clearly likes it rough.
But he wasn’t sure what they really needed to talk about, either. How rough she wanted it? He could get creative in how he fucked her, but he wasn’t going to hurt her.
Dirty he could do.
Deviant…not so much.
But those lines blurred when he let his imagination run rampant. What if Serena wanted…
No, he couldn’t even finish that sentence, and not because he didn’t like the possibilities, but because it was so outside his frame of reference. Whatever she wanted, he’d find a way to dig it. But he was a simple man. A horny man. And his first choice would always be pretty simple.
So instead of talking, he pulled her into his lap and fingered her while they watched a show. Made her come on his hand before he slid deep inside her and stroked her clit until she came again, this time milking his dick.
Damn coward, he was turning out to be. But as Serena curled up beside him in bed, she twisted her fingers through his and gave him the sweetest, sleepiest smile that told him maybe she wasn’t ready to make a big deal about sex, either.
Because it was good. Great, even. Fuck, when he was buried inside her, it felt God damn near perfect.
And over the next three weeks, the butt plug and matching glass dildo faded from the top of Hunter’s thoughts. He never forgot them, exactly. But around his night training and leading up Serena’s trip, they were insatiable enough in other ways that he stopped wondering about the specifics of whether or not she wanted something up her ass.
They fucked—a lot. Nothing expressly kinky, but there was a new, naughty edge to Serena’s natural sauciness. She bit her lip more and called him sir impertinently. Wore his t-shirts with nothing underneath, and then asked him for help getting something down from up high. Wiggled her ass in his direction.
All things he approved of. And he tried to play at it, too, but bossing her around wasn’t his nature and until they tumbled naked into bed, he wasn’t sure what exactly to do. Once they were horizontal, Hunter had zero problem taking charge and making her pleasure his sole reason for being.
But every so often he got the feeling he was missing something. “You want something else, beautiful?” he’d grunt against her mouth, and she’d shake her head.
“So good,” she’d breathe, and he had to believe her, because she was coming on his dick again.
That couldn’t be a bad thing, right?
And the last thing he wanted to do was ask her about anal play and get it wrong.
So he kept quiet. But when he used her computer again, he couldn’t help but check her browser history.
He felt terrible about it for a solid minute, until he saw that she’d returned to the Blush Shoppe website more than once. Freaky girl indeed.
Right.
He needed to bite the bullet and be the brave one.
Creative problem-solving was his job. Usually in the form of figuring out impossible infiltration routes to a terrorist camp or finding a way to survive when trapped halfway up a mountain surrounded by insurgents, but coaxing the woman he’d fallen for to share a desire for something pretty up her ass?
So when she left for her top-secret makeup assignment—this one a photo shoot in Lake Tahoe, she’d been able to tell him at least—he’d done some online shopping.
Now he was standing outside his apartment door, staring at a nondescript brown cardboard box.
Hot. Damn.
He grabbed it and let himself into his apartment. In his pocket, his phone vibrated. One look at the screen had all his dirty thoughts working overtime. Serena.
“Hey, beautiful. What’s up?”
Her breathless voice filled his ear. “I missed my connection! I won’t be back in time for dinner, I’m sorry.”
“Shit, that sucks for you. Where are you, LAX? I’ll drive up and get you.”
“No, no. It’s okay, I’m rebooked onto the next one. And I’ve got my laptop, I can do some work. But I’m sorry that I won’t get to see you tonight.”
“I’ll still get you when you land in San Diego.”
She made an indecisive sound in his ear.
He rolled his eyes, glad she couldn’t see him. “I’m picking you up when you get here, end of story. Text me your new flight number.” He grinned as she gave a little laugh of acceptance. One of his favourite things about Serena was that she’d never ask for anything, but was genuinely pleased when he offered. He’d always prided himself on being a nice guy, and he’d pick anyone up from the airport. It was the least he could do.
But with Serena, it wasn’t anything like doing a friend a favour. It felt like…shit, he didn’t know. Good. Right.
* * *
Serena had been wound tight since she left the Reno airport, forty-five minutes behind schedule, knowing she’d miss her connection and worrying the whole time that she’d get stranded in Los Angeles for the night. Bothered beyond measure that she wouldn’t see Hunter.
It had been five long nights away from home and she craved his touch. His murmur in her ear and his solid weight behind her as they slept.
She had a Christmas present for him in her bag, a watch that had called to her from a shop window in the airport. She’d gotten a ridiculous tip from the movie star who she’d been working on for the Japanese perfume commercial, and for the first time in a while, she was flush.
It felt like a bit of a cop-out, buying Hunter an expensive gift instead of giving him the three words he’d shared with her so selflessly.
Not instead.
The way her heart swelled at the thought of him, she knew she’d find a way to give voice to her most innermost feelings. No matter how scary it might be, she’d tell him how she felt.
She carefully rolled her carry-on makeup case toward baggage claim, her arm and back protesting with every weighted tug. Having Hunter pick her up was a selfish move when she was dead on her feet like this. Maybe she should pull out her phone and call him, tell him she’d just get a taxi instead.
