“Good. Looks like we both do.” When she sucks my bottom lip in one long, wet pull before sliding down my body and positioning herself on both knees, I understand what she means.
Mary has yet to go down on me, which has been completely fine. I have loved being the giver, but seeing her kneeling before me stirs a longing and my cock twitches. She peers up at me from under those long lashes before licking her lips and focusing her attention on my dick.
“You keep looking at me like that and I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”
A smirk tugs her curved lips. “Don’t make a mess. This is a new dress.” She doesn’t wait for me to reply, but I don’t think I could, because seeing her brush her hair to one side and lowering her mouth to my cock leaves me speechless.
Her mouth forms a small, perfect O as she slides onto the head of my dick. A thunderbolt strikes straight through me, but I refrain from moving, wanting Mary to go at her own pace. I’m unable to tear my eyes away from her sucking and licking my tip painfully slow. She tongues the underside before suckling at the head.
“Oh, sweet holy fuck!” I groan, gently caressing her cheek in gratitude.
She rests both palms against my thighs as she bobs up and down sluggishly, testing how deep she can go. The sight of her lips wrapped around my cock is forever singed into my brain, and from this day forward, it belongs to her.
She slides down further, before pulling back up—repeat, and before long, she’s taken half my shaft into her mouth. Her cheeks are hollowed as she sucks me deeply, using a hand to cover what she can’t swallow. In seconds, her hand and mouth work in sync, and she conducts a tempo which has me almost losing my shit.
I’m trying to be gentle, but when she pulls back, sucks my sensitive head, and circles her tongue, all bets are off and I buck my hips forward. I slide down her throat, almost coming when she hums.
Sweeping her hair from her face, I hold onto it, using it as reins. I’m utterly mesmerized by the way she sucks me off, her tiny hand fisting me as she bobs up and down. I bow into her, making sure I don’t go in too deep, too fast. “You are a fucking goddess,” I growl when I hit the back of her throat. She moans around me, the sound vibrating all the way to my balls.
She lifts my shaft and draws backward, slapping my head against the flat of her tongue. I’ve been blown countless times before, but this…this is something else. She sinks back down and clutches onto both my thighs, dipping madly.
Her tempo speeds up, and by her impassioned moans, I know her pussy is clenching, so ready to fuck. I try and gently coax her off, wanting to return the favor, but she shrugs me off and dives in deep, almost swallowing me whole. Although she gags, she continues working my cock with fervor, milking me, making her intentions clear.
Tears leak from her eyes as she sucks, licks, and tongues me until I pump my hips, so ready to shatter. My fist is locked firmly around her tresses, guiding and controlling her tempo. With one hand still pressed to my thigh, the other dips under her dress and moves in a manner which has me wanting to weep.
“Holy shit. Do you know how hot you look right now?” I growl, not knowing where to look first, as it’s a smorgasbord of visual feasts. My words spur both her mouth and hand beneath her dress on as she increases the speed of both.
My release is so close I can taste it, but when Mary moans around my dick, the distinct sound of her fingers slipping deep into her wet pussy, it accelerates and kicks me in the balls. I pump my hips while she whimpers, never missing a beat.
The familiar sensation builds and builds, and I know what’s coming, and it’s going to come in waves. I gently push her cheek, enticing her to let go, but she seals her lips and slides all the way down. “Mary!” I grunt, attempting to pull out, but she won’t let me go. “Oh, fuck. Shortcake, I’m going to come. Like right now.”
I try and hold back, but when her body shudders and I visualize her fingers playing with her ripened clit, I lose all control. Tossing my head back, I pump my hips wildly, almost unforgiving as an orgasm is ripped from my center and I explode with a thunderous roar into Mary’s mouth.
She takes everything I give, her tiny moans of her pleasuring herself while she pleasures me is the most erotic thing I have ever heard. Once the last aftershock rocks my body, I yank her up and press her back to the wall.
Her lips are swollen, her red lipstick smeared, but in this moment, she’s never looked more beautiful, never looked more mine. Without a word, I drop to my knees and hike up the hem of her dress. As I bury my face into her slick pussy, I know I’m in trouble because I’ll never tire of wanting her…forever.
Size Does matter
I am sore in places I didn’t even know could be sore. But when the snoring, hulking giant besides me rolls over and spoons me, it’s so worth the pain.
I’m in the one place I promised myself I would never end up—Hunter’s bed. Sure, we’ve had sex in, on, and around it plenty of times, but to actually wake up in it the morning after is a whole different ballgame.
After he took me back to his place and had me screaming his name, I collapsed, in fear of never waking any time soon. I expected he would wake me when he wanted me to leave, but as the sunlight streams in from the curtains, I know that never happened.
Looking down at Hunter, I can’t deny that I’ve fallen, and I’ve fallen in deep. I have no idea when this happened, but the more time I spend with him, the harder I fall. And that’s the problem. Regardless of how I feel, he doesn’t feel the same. I suggested this friends with benefits arrangement because the thought of not having him at all hurts more than eventually having to let him go.
But I’m going to revel in this madness because I’m sure he’ll get sick of me soon. Last night was nothing short of amazing, but I play hardball time and time again because I’m scared he’ll get bored. Sometimes I think he feels for me what I do for him, but then he proves it’s just wishful thinking when he doesn’t want to kiss me, or confirms this is a no-strings attached deal. Or when Keira is basically blowing him under the bar.
I went last night because I was convinced she was given her marching orders. As I left Hunter’s office, I saw her crying in her sleazeball boss’s office. I was certain he had fired her, discovering she had told Hunter about Mr. Yeong. So you can imagine my surprise when I saw her all but dry humping Hunter’s leg.
But I went for a handful of reasons. The first being, I wanted to gloat when I told Hunter the news. But when I saw her fondling him, a possession so fierce took over, I forgot any other reason. When I saw Aaron Gail, alarm bells sounded loudly, just how they did when I first laid eyes on Keira.
He was cocky, probably accustomed to women throwing themselves at his feet, but when he flirted, I was so in, and I planned on shaking my tailfeather to uncover what exactly he’s up to. There is no doubt he lied about his so-called meeting with Mr. Yeong’s people, so now that that’s failed, what will he try next?
Ming seemed confident that Mr. Yeong would stay loyal to Hunter, so I wonder to what lengths Gail will go to sever that allegiance.
I can’t shake the feeling that Keira is looking out for herself and using Hunter for her own personal gain. She told him about the supposed meeting to knock her boss from the perch, only to replace him…with herself.
My gut tells me she wants Mr. Yeong for herself. What a way to climb the corporate ladder, by literally climbing Hunter. There is clearly no love lost between her and her boss, as he chewed her out over what exactly, I still don’t know, but I’m planning on finding out, hence me flirting back with the braindead Gail.
Keira is so desperate for Hunter to share his triumphs with her because it’s a man’s world, and she will obviously fight dirty to get what she wants. The whole virgin act clued me onto her plans. So did the fact I spied on her once Aaron left his office and saw her take off her glasses to read a text message. She clearly doesn’t need them, but she wears them because they, just like her virginal gig, are a ploy to seduce Hunter into telling
her his secrets of success.
The problem is I need evidence, because right now, I sound like a jealous…girlfriend. I can’t tell Hunter about my hunch, because when it comes to vagina, he’s twenty shades of stupid.
I should just mind my own business, but the other reason I went last night is lying beside me. I missed Hunter. I missed him so much I couldn’t even think straight. He obviously thought I was hitting the town, which I supposedly was, but after I spoke to Maddy, who informed me she and Dixon would be screwing like rabbits because she hadn’t seen him all week, I knew I was flying solo.
But the thought of going out, getting grinded on, and engaging in mindless conversation made me long for the annoying jerk even more. This wasn’t supposed to happen, so the question is, how do I make it stop?
“I swear to god if this is a dream, I will be fucking pissed.” That husky voice should be illegal. So should those amazing green eyes, which open slowly, focusing on me. Hunter’s hair is wild, slipped free from its usual confines. He smirks up at me, not at all bothered he’s using my boobs as a pillow. “Is this the time you suggest we have morning sex?” He reaches for my hand and interlaces our fingers casually.
His entire presence shouldn’t affect me the way that it does, but my heart does a tiny flip flop while my lady parts somersault in delight. “Really? You literally just woke up,” I reply, unable to hold back a smile.
“Well, I literally woke up with morning wood,” he counters, lifting the sheet so I can see him standing tall and proud. “It’s not every day I wake to a pretty woman in my bed.” His admission surprises me, and the shock shows.
“That surprises you?”
“Is that a trick question?” I tease, unable to resist as I brush locks of hair from his cheeks.
“I’ll have you know you’re the first woman who has slept over in a very long time.”
“How long?” Now that he’s talking, I plan on grilling him until he clams back up. He’s let slip that he hasn’t dated, like ever, but he’s never really gone into detail.
Nuzzling into my right breast, he lazily runs his tongue along the edge. “It’s been that long, I really don’t know.”
I gasp, my head falling backward as he thumbs over my pebbled nipple. But I won’t allow him to distract me. “Ballpark?”
“Hmm…” he says, his warm breath sending goose bumps all down my body. “Maybe three years.”
“Three?” I squeak, part in shock, the other half in ecstasy.
Leaning up on an elbow, he casually traces his pointer around my areola and nods. “Give or take. I really am not interested in complications.”
His confession could be taken two ways—am I not a complication because he feels the butterflies too? Or am I not a complication because he doesn’t care enough about me to make it complicated? Ugh, I’m so confused.
“I’m glad I’m not a complication then,” I state, hoping he sheds some light on this before I drive myself nuts.
Sucking his thumb very suggestively, it pops from his lips. “I never said that.”
“Then what”—the words catch in my throat when he thumbs over my nipple—“am I then?” I manage to conclude, holding back my moan.
He appears hypnotized by my breast, but if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was weighing the best way to not put his foot in it more than he already has. “You’re…easy.”
My mood instantly sours, and I slap his hand away. “Gee, thanks a lot.” I attempt to get up, but he doesn’t let me move an inch. He rolls on top of me, our naked bodies pressed as one.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” His crooked smirk just pisses me off more. “I meant being with you is easy.”
“Oh.” But what does that exactly mean? I want to ask him, but I’m afraid. If he tells me I’m easy because there are no emotional ties and what we have is just sex, I will ugly cry and it won’t be pretty. Sex is easy, but the relationship part, that’s hard.
I’m left with more questions than answers once again.
Just as I grow some lady balls and open my mouth, ready to ask him once and for all, he swoops forward and kisses the side of my neck. He works his way down, his whiskers delectably pricking my heated skin.
Once he reaches the junction of my collarbones, he traces a path down the middle with his tongue, detouring to my left breast. He laps at it coolly, in no real hurry, and knowing Hunter and his stamina, we could be here for a while.
As his mouth works me into a frenzy above the waist, below joins the party when he glides his hand between us and rubs two fingers along my entrance. It’s impossible that each touch feels even better than the one before, because when does this stop?
Opening my legs, I want to forget about my insecurities, because when we’re like this, nothing is clearer. What I can’t vocalize, my body makes up for through touch. His fingers test the waters, but I’m always ready for him.
He draws my nipple into the warm hollow of his mouth the same moment he slips two fingers inside of me. I raise my hips, the pressure almost too much. There is something different to his touch, the sense of urgency skating under the surface, instead of dominating his every move.
The tiny pitter patter to my heart is one I’ve not felt before. It feels so full, like at any given moment it will explode from my chest and show the world that it beats for only one man. I am so fucking screwed.
Just as he moves over to my other breast, his cell on the bedside table sounds, and the song is funnily enough one I can relate to. “Why is Celine Dion your ringtone?” I ask with a giggle. The infamous love song from the movie Titanic fills the room.
“Just ignore it,” he says from around my nipple while his fingers are still working a fever down below.
“I can’t,” I reply, as Hunter has done some weird shit before, but now I’m totally intrigued.
My nipple springs free, but he doesn’t stop the delicious intrusion below. Reaching over, he picks up the cell and sighs. “Hi, can I call you back? I’ve kind of got my hands full.” His wicked grin has me biting my lip to stifle my moan. He continues sinking his fingers into me, watching me closely, which has me bursting into flames. “What? You’re here now?”
Not interested in an audience, I attempt to shut my legs, but he drives them back open and increases the tempo. I have no idea who he’s talking to, but I do know they’re standing outside his door. My hips buck into his fingers, my swollen clit so needy and sweltering, I want to cry.
“Okay, fine, fine, give me five minutes.” When I cry out, arching my back, he smirks. “Actually, make that three.”
He hangs up, tossing the phone over his shoulder, never missing a beat. My body twists and turns, the gravity of him stroking me so intimately and with such dominance is almost too much. I’m so fucking wet and a victorious grin breaks out on Hunter’s cheeks. I know he loves it when I get this worked up.
“I really wish I could fuck you right now. But that’ll take a lot longer than three minutes.” He leans down, his long hair tickling my chin as he sucks over my hammering pulse.
“Oh god,” I cry, opening my legs as wide as I can.
“Shortcake, you’re one greedy girl. This cunt can never get enough, can it?” I moan, his dirty words perpetually elicit this response from me and he knows it.
“No,” I whimper when he withdraws his fingers and frenziedly rubs over my clit.
“Good,” he hums, still suckling my neck, undoubtedly leaving a hickey the size of Texas behind. “Because I will never have enough of it. Of you.”
I’m too far gone to even comprehend his words and come with an ear-splitting shriek. My body thrashes beneath him, tears leaking from my eyes, the orgasm robbing me of breath. Hunter wrings every last drop from my body, until I’m lax and well-sated in his arms.
I know I’ve coated him with my arousal, but before him, I didn’t even know my body was capable of the things it’s experienced over the past few days.
When I finally stop moaning, I open my eyes, watching o
n in horror and desire when Hunter licks his fingers clean. “You taste as good as you feel.” An inferno overtakes me, which only has my tormentor grinning smugly.
“To be continued,” he whispers, biting my chin before standing and riffling through his drawers for some clothes.
Sitting upright, I hold the sheet to my chest, watching in delight as he steps into a pair of faded blue jeans. Soft tufts of dark hair paint his navel and lead all the way down to an impressive V. He leaves the top button undone as he hunts for a t-shirt. His washboard abs ripple and roll. Oh my fucking god have mercy on my pink bits.
When he slips into a fitted white tee, he notices me staring and smirks. I need to stop because he’s cocky enough. “Who’s at the door?”
Running his fingers through his hair, he ties it low. “My mom,” he replies casually, while I almost fall out of bed.
“What? Your mom is out there?” I point to the door, in case I had a lapse in hearing. He nods, while I pale. “Hunter, you were getting me off while on the phone to your mother?”
“Yeah, I told her my hands were full,” he teases, while I spring from the bed, frantically searching the room for my clothes.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I reply as I drop to the floor to look under the bed.
“Why?”
Blowing the bedraggled hair from my brow, I turn over my shoulder, incredulous. “Why? ’Cause I’m butt naked in your bedroom and your mom is feet away.” I holler in delight when I see my dress wedged near the headboard.
“She’ll understand when she sees that butt. It’s a crime to keep it confined.” As I’m parading my ass high in the air while reaching for my clothes, Hunter lunges forward and slaps me playfully. Yelping, I turn around to see him masking a shit-eating grin behind his palm.
Ignoring his childish, but adorable antics, I quickly slip into my dress and attempt to tame my mane, but give up and instead tie it into a high ponytail. “I’m going to the bathroom,” I announce, grabbing my bag from the dresser.
The Hunt - Monica James Page 18
