Beyond, I hear a huff. “Don’t worry about me, Hunter. I’ll be out of your hair in a few minutes.”
A frustrated breath falls from my lips as I close my eyes. There’s a tightness in my chest I can’t identify, a worry pressing into me that makes it hard to breathe. “That’s not…” I stop and growl. “That’s not what I want.”
There’s a rustling of clothes as she laughs. “Seriously? I think you’ve made it clear what you want, and that’s me out of your life for good,” she replies loudly. “Ever since I got here, you’ve donenothing but complain about me. Whether that be my ideas or my attitude or mywardrobeor where I live or?—”
Without thinking, I push open the door. The frustration building within me only grows worse at having to speak to her through a door, and everything she thinks I’ve been complaining about…
They haven’t been complaints about herspecifically.
Her ideas have always been better than mine, and maybe it was pride or my own desire to remain set in my ways, but I’ll be the first to admit she knows what she’s doing—and she does it well. Clearly, I’ve not made that clear enough for her since last night, but if she wants me to tell her repeatedly how amazing she is at her job, then I will.
And her attitude…there’s nothing wrong with her attitude. She’s bubbly and kind, and she draws in a crowd with how bright she shines. Anyone who crosses her path can tell she actually cares—which is why my comment made me a bastard. She wouldn’t have put in so much time or effort if she didn’t.
I’ve only ever complained about her wardrobe when she’s severely underdressed for the weather, but that’s an entirely different fight to be had.
But as I push into the guest room, all logical thought completely disappears as I take her in. Soft, blonde curls fall to her shoulder blades. It’s the rest of her that takes my breath away; naked, she looks like a depiction of Aphrodite carved by the hands of an ancient artist. Her curves are soft, pliable, like the falling of fresh snow. Pillowy thighs clench, skin so smooth it looks almost impossible.
I try to swallow, but it becomes difficult as I let my eyes drift over her, taking in the heavy swells of her breaths, the tightening of her nipples. A hunger I’ve never felt before awakens inside me, and something worse thrums in my chest.
A need to have her. To make her mine.
Sylvie grabs the flannel I lent her and uses it to cover her chest, but it barely goes to the apex of her thighs. “Hunter!”
This time when I try to swallow, I bypass the lump in my throat. Dragging my eyes to hers, I notice the deep pink flush to her cheeks, the flash of heat in her eyes.
My dick goes uncomfortably stiff, the desire to have her so powerful it hurts. “I’m sorry,” I rasp, voice rough, heart pounding. “But fuck it.”
I slam the door behind me as I stalk into the room, her shaky gasp swallowed by my lips as I kiss her. Sylvie doesn’t fight me, not as she drops the flannel and slumps into my arms, her hands moving to my shirt and fisting the material. I gather her to me, enjoying the way her thick curves balance out the harsh ridges of my body, moaning at the soft press of her stomach against the stiffness of my cock.
Just the simple touch of her body almost has me finishing in my pants, but by some miracle, I don’t. It’s not strength that saves me, but a need to see her come undone first.
I deepen the kiss with a hand in her hair, moving it to the back of her head and tilting her face towards mine. The soft mewling noise she makes as I swipe my tongue against hers loosens some primal, animalistic need within me. All I want to do is claim her. Make her mine.
It’s an instinct I’ve never had before. Not with Opal’s mother, not with any other woman I’ve dated. But with Sylvie, all of my natural instincts disappear. I think they’ve been disappearing since I met her.
My free hand slips down her waist and moves to her ass, giving the globe a squeeze. It has another small sound slipping free of her lips, one I take greedily as I massage the flesh. The roundness of it has always piqued my interest, ever since I picked her up on her first day in Willow Ridge. Her tight jeanshad left nothing to the imagination, and just as I’d imagined, her ass is as soft as snowfall.
Sylvie pulls away with a gasp, her lips swollen and red, her cheeks dark with a flush. Hunger fills her darkened eyes as she pants in my arms.
“Hunt—what—” She gasps, arching into me as my fingers move to the apex of her thighs and slide through the gathered arousal at the entrance of her pussy.
“You never gave me a chance to tell you how wrong you were,” I murmur, dipping my face to the column of her throat. She smells like a mixture of us both; her perfume and my cologne clinging to her skin. “Fucking hell, Sylvie. I don’t complain because I don’t like you.”My fingers dip between the lips of her pussy. “I complain because you get under my skin.”
She shivers in my arms, arching into me. “That doesn’t…make it any better,” she pants.
I chuckle against her neck as I plunge a finger inside her warm heat. “You make me feel things I haven’t felt before, you vixen. And I know you don’t do it on purpose, but fuck, you drive me insane.”
Sylvie moans and presses into me further as I insert another finger. There’s something about the way she trembles that has my cock pulsating. Something about how easily she falls apart on just my fingers that has me needing more.
“Ever since you came into my life, I’ve wanted to bend you over my knee, and I don’t know if that’s because I want to spank you or fuck you until you know you’re mine. You have a sort of power over me I can’t escape, and any time I try to pull out of your spell, I fall right back in. Whether it be because of your smile—” I add another finger and smile when she shudders, pussy tightening around me. “Or because you know the right way to make me open up, but it doesn’t matter anymore.”
I feel it the moment she shatters. Sylvie cries out, her legs trembling as the waves of her climax rush through her. I use my free hand to hold her up and against me as the shocks of her release leave her spent.
Sylvie fists her hands in my shirt and buries her face in my chest, her breaths harsh. “Hunter…” she trails off, another shudder rolling through her as I slide my fingers free from her heat.
“Give me permission,” I murmur in her ear.
“For what?” she whispers, voice shaky.
