A groan escapes him as I reach between us, shoving his sweatpants down enough to free him.
“You don’t deserve this,” I whisper, positioning myself above him. “You don’t deserve me.”
“I know,” Hunter says, his voice breaking. “I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of you.”
I position myself above his hard length, my thighs trembling with anticipation. Without warning or gentleness, I sink down on him, taking him to the hilt in one rough motion. The sudden fullness makes me gasp, the delicious stretch burning in all the right ways.
“Touch my clit,” I demand, voice tight as I begin to move. “Make me come while I use you.”
Hunter’s fingers find me immediately, his touch expert and precise. I rock against him hard, setting a punishing pace that has us both panting. My anger fuels every movement, transforming into something primal.
“Harder,” I hiss, grinding down on him. “Faster.”
He increases the pressure how I need it, his eyes never leaving mine. The intensity between us is electric, charged with everything unsaid. I take my pleasure from him ruthlessly, using his body for my release.
When Hunter’s hands suddenly move to grip my hips, I slap them away with a sharp crack.
“No,” I snap. “You don’t get to touch me however you want. Not anymore.” I grab his wrist and place his hand back between my legs. “Fingers on my clit, and one on my nipple. That’s it.”
He groans, a deep sound of both frustration and arousal. “Aurora?—”
“No talking either,” I cut him off, rolling my hips in a way that makes us both gasp. “Just do what I tell you.”
Hunter obeys, his thumb circling my clit while his other hand reaches up to pinch my nipple through my thin shirt. The dual sensation sends sparks of pleasure shooting through my body. I control everything—the angle, the depth, the pace. His body is mine to use, his pleasure secondary to my own.
I ride him hard, my nails digging into his chest for leverage. Every thrust is an accusation, every moan a confession. I hate him. I want him. I can’t live without him. The contradictions tear through me as I chase my release.
I grind against him harder, watching his face contort with pleasure beneath me. There’s something intoxicating about seeing this man—this controlling, powerful billionaire who’s orchestrated his every move since meeting me—completely at my mercy. Following my commands without question. Taking what I give him.
“Look at you,” I whisper, voice sharp with anger and desire. “Hunter Reed, doing exactly what he’s told.”
His eyes darken at my taunt, but he doesn’t speak. Doesn’t try to take control. Just continues the relentless rhythm with his fingers that’s driving me toward the edge.
And God, I hate how good he makes me feel even while I’m furious with him. How can I crave someone who kept such a devastating truth from me or who is capable of such darkness?
My anger begins to dissolve as the pleasure builds inside me. My hips stutter in their rhythm as Hunter’s fingers work their magic, precise and perfect against my clit.
“I hate that I need you like this,” I gasp, feeling my body tightening around him. “I hate that even when I’m furious, you still make me feel so fucking good.”
His eyes lock with mine, stormy with emotion. I want to look away, but can’t. The connection between us transcends the physical—it always has.
“Fuck,” I moan, grinding harder against him. “I’m close.”
Hunter breaks my rule about silence. “Come for me, Aurora,” he whispers, his voice rough. “Give me everything.”
Something about those words shatters my remaining control. My orgasm crashes through me in waves, each one more intense than the last. I cry out his name as my body convulses around him, my hands gripping his shoulders despite my earlier command.
Through the haze of my release, I feel Hunter’s restraint breaking. His hips thrust up to meet mine, his hands moving to grip my waist. This time, I don’t stop him. I need to feel his strength, his desperation.
“I want you to come inside me,” I demand, my voice breathy and raw. “Now.”
Hunter groans, his fingers digging into my flesh as he thrusts deeper. I feel him pulse inside me, filling me completely as he comes with my name on his lips.
We collapse against each other, panting and sweaty. I rest my head against his shoulder, inhaling his scent. My body feels boneless, satisfied in ways only he can provide.
Despite the lies, despite the pain, I know the truth that terrifies me most: I love him. The realization sits heavy in my chest as I listen to his heartbeat gradually slow. My anger still exists—a burning ember rather than the raging bonfire from before—but it’s tangled with something deeper, something I can’t deny.
I close my eyes, letting the post-orgasmic haze wash over me. We’re far from fixed, but in this moment, I can admit to myself what I’ve known all along. Hunter Reed and I are like dark and light; neither can exist without the other.
