“Oh, Hunter,” Lucy breathes. Her tone is so vulnerable and open. I’m completely aware that not many people see this side of Lucy. She doesn’t have time to be vulnerable when she’s too busy trying to make everyone happy. She’s so concerned with everyone else’s happiness that she too often forgets who she is and what she wants.
I reach around to her ass and pull her onto me. Deep. Hard.
She gasps and falls forward, her palms on my chest. As she lifts her hips, I pull her back toward me, driving her back onto my cock. Her tightness is completely hypnotizing. It creates a buzz that zigzags across my body, making me want her more.
“Oh, God,” she calls. She’s not far from coming again. My chest expands, and I thrust up to meet her tight pussy. Yeah, I’m going to make her come again.
I sit up, wanting to be closer to her. Her knees are either side of my torso, squeezing me, tightening everything. Her breasts press against my chest as she moves, sinking onto my cock over and over.
I wrap my arms around her and press kisses against her collarbone. She’s so soft. So good. So tight. So perfect. Everything about her is completely perfect.
Her arms wrap around my neck. We’re so close, her movements are smaller, but everything’s more intense.
“I love ... I love fucking you,” she whispers into my ear.
“I love fucking you too,” I reply. But it’s not what I mean. It’s not all I mean, at least. There’s something more. I just can’t quite find the words.
We press our foreheads together and our breaths mix as our orgasms explode between us, and it’s like we’re sharing the same climax. Herbreathy moans prolong mine, make me want to tease it out and make it last for hours.
She clings to me as her breathing comes back to normal. I slump back onto the bed, taking her with me. I keep my arms wrapped around her tightly, wanting us as close as possible for as long as possible. I never want tonight to end. I don’t want to have to go to sleep and miss any of her.
I want to savor it. Keep her safe. Keep her mine.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lucy
I feel like I’ve been in one of thoseIronmancompetitions I hear the guys at work talking about, only I didn’t prepare. Hell, even if I had trained for anIronman, I don’t think I would have fared better. The things Hunter did to my body last night ... He should be arrested. Or maybe I could put him under house arrest.
I left him this morning, reluctantly, but there was no way I was going into work in yesterday’s clothes. My heading back to Brooklyn at five in the morning also let us avoid an awkward breakfast or any kind of talk about how we’d better quit while we’re ahead, because things could get messy with Ed and Katherine or he’s not ready to be exclusive.
Because I will not share him.
I’d rather never see him again. And the latter option is horrifying to me right now.
I don’t normally take my phone from my purse until lunchtime, but I’ve kept it with me all morning on vibrate. Not that I’m expecting him to message. But just in case he was to reach out.
Who am I?
Who have I turned into?
I’ve been dickmatized.
I attach a marked-up version of an NDA I’ve been reviewing this morning to an email and press “Send.” I literally jump back in my seat when I see Hunter’s name in my inbox.
“You okay?” the paralegal opposite me asks.
“Yeah, fine. I just ... yeah, I’m fine.” I give her my best fake grin. Which is still terrible.
What the hell is Hunter doing emailing me at work?
I open the email.
“12:30. Stranger than Fiction.”
That’s all it says. I’m half irritated that he’d just summon me somewhere, totally assuming I don’t have plans or I’m not too busy at work to be able to make it. But the other half of me is delighted.
I check the clock. It’s just gone twelve. He hasn’t given me any notice at all. Arrogant prick. I delete the email and pull out my phone to text him I might be late.
