Shattered King(19)

It wasn’t going to happen . . .

I woke warm, deliciously warm, cocooned in heat. I made a contented sound in the back of my throat and snuggled deeper.

Something warm tickled my ear, then the sound of steady, even breaths reached me through the dark.

That’s when I snapped out of my sleep haze and remembered where I was.

Hunter was pressed against my back. One of his thighs was wedged between mine, his arm draped over my waist, big hand cupping my breast, like he always used to.

Oh shit.

He was still asleep. I could tell by the way he was breathing.

My body revved to life, full-on need humming through me from head to toe. I tried to move, to get some distance between us, but his fingers tightened, curling, digging into my now aching flesh. His knee lifted higher, pressing more firmly between my legs.

I groaned. God, I couldn’t help it.

That’s when he woke. His body stiffened, fingers flexing. I expected him to pull away, but he didn’t move, stayed right where he was.

I blinked into the moonlit room, unable to move, to speak. Jesus, too afraid to breathe. My mind told me to shove him away, my body wanted to push back, seek more.

He pressed his hips into me from behind. Oh fuck, he was hard. I shivered, desperate to squeeze my thighs together when a hot, insistent pulse began throbbing deep inside me. I was trying to work out what to say, what to do, when he released a shaky exhale, dropped a hand between my thighs and shoved my legs farther apart, cupping me firmly, possessively. He ground into my ass, and I internally combusted.

This is wrong. Stop it. Now.

I flung my hand back to shove him away, but the growl that vibrated through his chest, had my nipples tightening into hard peaks, and I found myself fisting his hair instead. I pulled on it hard, twisting my head, and yanked him down. As soon as that tempting lower lip was in range, I sucked it. He growled again, reaching up, fingers curling around my wrist, squeezing before pulling my hand away and shoving it onto the mattress. He took over the kiss, biting and sucking at my mouth, tongue thrusting against mine. He kissed me hard and urgent, almost painfully. Rough, hot, angry. He’d kissed me in a lot of ways during our two-year relationship, but never like this.

God help me, I wanted more. I tried to roll toward him, but he tightened his hold on me, keeping me on my side, facing away from him. His free hand dropped to my waist and he yanked at my Hooters tank roughly, tugging it up over my head, flinging it aside. Then he was working on my shorts, shoving them and my panties down my legs. I kicked my unchained foot free, and he hooked my thigh over his. I reached back, grabbing his ass, digging my other foot into the mattress so I could grind back against him.

His harsh breaths filled my head as his hand furiously worked between our bodies, tearing at the front of his jeans. I helped him shove them down past his ass, desperate to have him inside me.

Then finally, our bodies were skin to skin. I moaned as his erection prodded against my ass, dragging through my ass cheeks, down to my slit.

Then his cock was notched at my entrance. “Hunter . . .”

“Don’t talk,” he gritted. Fingers sinking into my flesh, he jerked my hips back, slamming up inside me.

I cried out as he planted a hand at the base of my neck and bent me forward. I twisted, watching him over my shoulder. He’d dipped his chin, eyes locked on where we were joined.

His big body shook as he stretched me, filling me like no one else, wrenching a helpless moan past my lips. Hunter was big. I’d forgotten how big. I didn’t have time to catch my breath, though, because he pulled out suddenly then slammed back into me. Then he kept on slamming, hard and relentless. He hissed, cursing over and over before breaking off on a gasped cry that lifted the hair at the back of my neck. His hands were hard, rough, demanding—holding me down, jerking me back—fucking into me with a desperation we were both feeling. I dug my nails into his ass, clawing at the taut muscle, mindless, hungry for more, for everything he had.

My belly clenched at the fire, the rage—the lust, burning from his eyes as he watched himself fuck me, teeth gritted, nostrils flaring.

I twisted, reached back, desperately needing some kind of connection. I tried to touch his face, but could only reach his throat, the pulse there pounding thick and heavy. His eyes shot up, locking on mine, and all that anger and heat scorched me, burned me from the inside out.

“Hunter . . .” I gasped, on the verge of begging him to give me more, something, anything.

He jerked, a shudder slicing through him. His eyes flared for a split second, and what I saw flash through them was painful to look at—then the shutters slammed down. And it was gone.

Nothing.

I flinched, my hands flying to the tangled sheets in front of me, fisting them, holding on tight as he pounded into me from behind.