“You’re not very good at metaphors,” he grinned. “You think I’ll stiffen up and descend into the world of drugs and whores, huh?”
“It’s inevitable,” I answered. “Surrounded by that, without any good little angels on your shoulder to keep you safe…”
“And is that what you are?” He asked wistfully, gazing upon me with reflective, thoughtful eyes. “My good little angel?”
“Something like that, yeah.”
“You know what I think?” he said, taking a step toward me menacingly. I backed away until I felt my shoulder blades pressing against the wall. “I think you’re the addict…”
“I don’t do drugs,” I whispered back.
“I’m not talking about drugs,” he said, moving in closer. “You’re addicted to the things I do to you, princess… You’re willing to throw everything away to get another ride on my dick.”
Hunter shook his head. “If you’re my angel… I’m your devil. I can’t let you join me in this life. This world isn’t for you, Sarah. I have to do this alone.”
“Do you really believe that?” I asked, my fingers lighting across his shoulder. I could feel his warmth, even through the black leather. Hunter always put off a lot of heat.
“The longer we speak, the less I do,” he admitted. “But I can’t let you make that kind of decision.”
“I’m eighteen, and that means I’m old enough to make my own damn choices,” I replied, staring up into his eyes with whatever hellfire I could muster.
“The last thing you need is a bad boy,” he murmured, his fingers under my chin again. I could see the inhuman restraint in his eyes; he was wrapping his soul in chains to keep himself from separating the layers from between us.
“You’re wrong, Hunter” I told him, a little kinder. My eyes were still firmly locked onto his, underlining the point as strongly as I could. His restraint visibly and completely collapsed with my next six words.
“I’ll always need a bad boy…”
3
There was no gentleness in what we did then – only furious, crippling need. We were doused in kerosene, and the burning embers in our hearts were ready to set us ablaze.
And ignite we did.
Our clothes were an afterthought, a barrier, a feeble obstacle to our needs. His rough hands shredded, tearing fabric and spraying buttons across the floor. My needful hands stripped him of his leathers, casting the tough material to the carpet beneath us.
Without the leather covering his chest, he was my Hunter once more – strong, defiant, and as loving as ever.
The center of the private room was a rounded sofa that receded into the floor. Hunter pushed me down to this surface and followed with the full intensity of his lust.
His lips found my neck – aching, tasting me, pressed against my throat with the kind of desperation only our love could muster. Hunter’s presence was equal parts hunger and compassion. He was willing to bend me, willing to bruise me, but never willing to break me.
Rough hands clasped over my shoulders, pushing me down further. I was forced from the couch and down onto my knees as Hunter spread his ankles across the floor, still wearing his jeans and the biker boots.
“You know what I want,” he murmured, his fingers intertwining into my hair. “Don’t keep me waiting…”
The lust lacing his voice only pushed me onward, and I eagerly met his request. Stripped down to just my bra and panties I got comfortable on my knees, unzipping his pants and tugging the black denim down his hips.
That familiar cock sprung to life in an instance, bouncing into view.
Already, I could see a twinkle of precum, beaded at the tip of his scepter. My mouth watered, savoring the gift as I descended, licking it gently from the slit before engulfing his thick rod with my warm mouth.
“Oh fuck, Sarah…” Hunter murmured with groaned passion, his fingers threading deeper into my hair. “You don’t know how bad I needed this…”
It had been awhile since the last time I’d been able to meet up with Hunter like this. Half the police force had it out for the guy who was “corrupting” the Sheriff’s daughter, and I’d been practically on house arrest for months now…
None of that mattered… We were together now.
Hunter’s patience began to wear thin. I always loved teasing him, dragging my tongue slowly, gradually up his rod, flicking the sensitive glans to spur him towards the edge, but never far enough to seal the deal…
He took over, his palms guiding me down his cock harder, faster, the fingers catching in my hair and pulling me back up with each stroke. His hips began thrusting to meet my lips, driving the force of his passion deeper into my mouth, closer towards my throat…