He sucks my tight bud into his mouth, taking deep draws that have me panting out his name. I feel it everywhere. My fingers, toes, my heart that’s racing with urgent need.
It’s like my body is an orchestra and he is the conductor.
He pops off, moving to the other, letting his tongue dance on my puckered bud before sucking it in.
What he has me feeling is obscene and confusing. How could he be so good at turning me on when I’m so utterly disgusted by men?
And that’s not up for debate. I truly hate them.
His mouth is worshipful, moving from one breast to the other, kissing and lapping and sucking until I feel like I’m going to die without precious friction.
I grab his head, tilting it so our eyes connect.
“More.”
His head tilts to the side. “Do you want me to suck harder?”
“Jesus Christ—I need you to lick me!”
Realization lights his eyes and he gives a curt nod, moving down my body at lightning speed.
He doesn’t kiss my stomach or linger in any particular place. He gets straight to the point, because that’s the kind of guy he is.
He pushes my thighs onto his broad shoulders as he brings his chest to the mattress. But instead of licking me out like I crave, he parts my pussy lips and stares.
He fucking stares.
I whine, wiggling my hips, which elicits an annoyed reaction from him.
Are you fucking kidding me?
“Fuck, this is torture!” I snarl.
“I assure you it is not, but if you’d like me to show you what torture is like, I can—”
My eyes widen in terror. “No—no torture. I was being glib.”
“I’d figured.” His thumb travels the length of my seam. “I’m surprised by how wet you are.” He gathers my moisture and rubs it in circles on my clit.
“Oh—fuck!” My thighs tighten, but he uses his forearms to force them further open.
“I’m going to lick inside you now.”
My eyes roll to the back of my head as his base words take hold, carrying me further into lust.
That I could be so turned on while he acts like a fucking research scientist is so unfair. He doesn’t understand my urgency and longing. How I fucking need what’s just beyond my reach.
But his tongue is merciful, driving into my channel with precision. He spears me again and again as I gush over his tongue, losing my grip on reality.
He doesn’t seem to care.
He licks straight up my seam, his tongue replacing his thumb, swirling and jiggling and lapping at my clit until I’m screaming his name.
The orgasm crushes me, knocking my breath from my lungs as a series of small explosions rock my core. I see the sun and stars, heaven and hell, all parts of the universe as I lose myself.
My body finally stills, my hips planting firmly on the bed. I can hardly think straight, I’m so spent. Hunter’s expression is contemplative, and I wonder what’s going on in that weird head of his.
“Did that satisfy your curiosity?” I ask.
