The Hunter (Boston Belles 1)

My throat bobbed with a swallow. It hurt, but he didn’t let go of my hair. “You can survive this,” he whispered into my mouth.

“This?” I groused.

“Us. I have a glass soul, baby. Pretty to look at, but it breaks easily, can make you bleed, and nobody gets attached to it.”

I parted my lips, about to tell him he was wrong, but his mouth closed in on mine, his kiss a drugging potion soaking into me—slow, erotic, and teasing. It was nothing like our first kiss, but somehow twice as bewitching. I felt his hand snaking to my front, skimming past the outline of my breast, moving down until it reached my groin. He cupped and lifted me up to my feet, holding me between my legs, still kissing me as his fingers dug through the fabric of my yoga pants roughly. He pinned my stomach against the bathroom wall, grinding his erection between my butt cheeks through our clothes. A desperate moan escaped me. He swallowed it with another dirty kiss. He kissed everything away.

He is not going to be here to kiss it better when he dumps you after the deal is over.

He shoved his big palm into the front of my pants, and I groaned, disconnecting my mouth from his and pressing my forehead to the cold tiles as heat swirled inside me.

“I’m not a virgin,” I said. I don’t know why I said it. Maybe I wanted to make sure he didn’t go gentle on me. I wanted the full Hunter experience, even if I knew I was going to regret it the minute we stepped out of this bathroom.

His cock jerked between my butt cheeks, his body molding into mine.

“Oh, yeah?” There wasn’t a hint of jealousy in his voice, only curious amusement.

I nodded, my forehead grazing the wall.

“How many?” he asked.

I wondered about the technicalities. Did we really break the celibate rule if Hunter and I just dry-humped? No. Not really. I mean, yes, it was wrong, but manageable. Besides, Gerald mainly hated how Hunter’s business was hanging all over the media. This would be our secret. Neither he nor I wanted it to leak past these walls. Hunter had his kingdom on the line, and I my career and reputation.

“One.” I gasped when his thumb and index found my clit, pinching it. The rest of his fingers slid past my wet entrance, gathering my need for him and rubbing it against my clit. His finger pads were warm, his stroke leisurely and skillful.

I felt like my insides were melting, one organ at a time. It wasn’t butterflies. No. More like moths, eating at me, consuming me completely.

Hunter kissed his way from my ear to my neck, down to my shoulder.

“Name.”

“Beau.”

“Ex-boyfriend?”

“Something like that.”

“Did you love him?” His fingers did things inside me I couldn’t explain. I just knew no one had ever touched me that way. My whole body shivered, down to my soul.

“N-no.” I couldn’t lie.

“Did you like it?”

The question surprised me. I didn’t think Beau himself had ever asked me that. I planted my palms on the tiles as Hunter yanked down my pants from behind in one go.

“We can’t have sex. We can’t break the rules,” I finally managed to say.

He laughed a devilish laugh, cupping one of my ass cheeks and squeezing hard. Hunter increased his speed, rubbing my clit and guiding his penis between my cheeks from behind. I knew he was watching what he was doing—my bare, white butt being poked around.

My legs began to tremble. I threw my head back, glad it was about to be over. The orgasm began to tickle its way up from my toes to the rest of my body.

Finally, finally, finally.

“Oh, Hunter.” I hated how right his name felt rolling out of my mouth. How moan-able it was. He stopped rubbing me off, taking a step back. It took me ten seconds to realize my orgasm wasn’t going to materialize. I turned around, eyes wide and accusing.

“What are you doing?” I demanded, feeling my face hot with confusion and desire. That had never happened before.

He leaned against the Jack and Jill counter, grinning, his hand shoved in his pants, playing with his very hard, very impressive erection.

“I want to get you off,” he popped the words carelessly, so calm you’d think we were talking about the weather.

“Then do!” I frowned so deeply my eyebrows hurt.

He laughed, a hearty, joyous laughter that rang around the room like a song. “See, but I want to get off, too. At the same time, I respect your inclination not to shit all over the celibacy rule. How about a compromise?”

I said nothing. I knew it wasn’t fair to expect him to get me off if I wasn’t going to reciprocate. But something about kneeling to Hunter felt intensely wrong. Here was a man who may have been a joke in his own family, but to everyone else, he was a deity, and I didn’t want to join his religion. I didn’t want to worship him.