Hunter is patient with me, he never pushes me past my comfort zone, and if he does, it’s because I want to go there, not the other way around.
Oh my God, I have a lover. I can’t even deal with this tidbit of information. My body is on fire again, simmering with a need that only Hunter can quench. My legs scissor in the sheets, making the noise where flesh scrapes a low thread-count. Fluttering strokes of longing scrape my lower belly, and I’m getting wet for him, ready for him one more time.
Hunter can’t be oblivious to what’s happening here. The way he massages me, his big hands kneading muscles in my legs and arms that I apparently have knots in slowly starts to burn away my exhaustion.
“I need you again.” Four words from his lips that slam into me, as if he’s been stroking my inner walls and I’m milliseconds away from coming.
“I want to try it with you behind me,” I say, and I feel Hunter’s hands still on my shoulders, digging into the muscles deep enough that I moan. Well, I didn’t even know that was going to come out of my mouth, so surprise, surprise.
I feel him move from behind me to lie down next to me. In the dim lighting of his bedroom, he smiles at me, teeth and hunger and enough hotness that my body’s ready to melt into a puddle.
“Who knew my nerdy girl would want to try to get a little dirty?”
Unfff his words… they make me tremble with need.
Lying on my stomach, looking at him with burning cheeks, his eyes are beautiful orbs of blue filled with mischief and dark intent.
“You can stop blushing, Sera. Knowing what you want is unbelievably sexy to me.”
I shove my face in the pillow. “It doesn’t sound like I don’t know what I’m doing?” My voice comes out muffled enough that I’m not even sure he’s heard me.
A warm hand comes to settle at my lower back, spanning the width of me and a part of my ass. “No one has ever given me this, the chance to be their first.” I look up to see him grinning, and he tucks some hair behind my ear as he gets up on an elbow. “You ready to get on your knees, baby?”
I lick my suddenly dry lips, try to swallow as need grips me and claws my skin, letting the wild part of me out. I always thought I was a rational person, always putting my needs second to that of others, family and friends. Hunter is forcing me to make them first, and that scares me a little, but I’ve never felt like I could soar before.
“I think I want to see your tattoos first. The last two times have kind of been fast and furious.” It’s not like he’s going to say no. Logically, I know this. But I still feel like I should ask anyway, like he will say no. He doesn’t. I don’t think he ever will.
“Was that okay?” Hunter asks, worry tainting his features, as he uses the hand that was partially on my ass to haul me closer to his body around my waist. I blush like every ounce of my blood has suddenly decided to give up on my insides and move to my cheeks instead when his eyes dip to my chest.
I really love that he asks me.
“It was fraking amazing with a side of win. You made my first and second time deliciously good.” I want to soothe him, remove that worry and uncertainty from his face before they turn into something uglier – like hate. I’ve learned it doesn’t take much for him to think that whatever bad comes into his life, is because of his illness. I hope I can change that.
I watch him puff up his chest and barely check the need to beat it like a gorilla. “But I still want to see your tattoos. I wasn’t paying attention before, you know, before.” I can’t even say it, and my stupid cheeks are still bloody red, and I’m twenty-five years old and I can’t talk dirty for the life of me.
Hunt places a kiss on the palm that I’ve put on his shoulder to keep him still as he moves to roll onto his stomach. I caught a glimpse of a giant back piece that I’ve never really seen and I’m dying to trace the edges with my tongue.
“Stay right there,” I order, moving from my side of the bed to straddle the curve in his lower back, putting us flesh to flesh. Even his ass is perfect, taut and muscular and with some of my claw marks from my nails. A raging slut-bag has taken over my body. Sorry, not sorry.
I settle myself more comfortably, and wait for Hunter to finish crossing his arms under his head. His whole body’s strung tight, and now I know why.
“Did you draw this piece for your back?” I know he did. I recognize his work, the bold strokes of pencil or pen he uses to make a devastating picture that captures life in a few moments. I’ve seen him do it with my face, or the sketches of Tony Stark he drew for Matty. But never this, this rendition of what he thinks would look like an angel.