We enter the apartment and are greeted by Charlie’s excited wiggling body. He gives me a funny look at still being plastered over Hunter’s shoulder.It’s not my choice, so you can blame your daddy.
“Would these boxes be better opened in the kitchen or the bedroom?” Hunter taunts.
“They would be better left unopened.”
He snorts. “Bedroom it is then.”
Am I that easy to read? I always thought I was closed off, that people only saw what I wanted them to see. Hunter blasts through all my walls like they are made of paper. It’s disorientating but freeing. I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not with him.
He drops the two boxes on the bed. “Charlie, couch,” he instructs and closes the door as the pooch sulks off.
“I think he needs to go out. I can?—”
“I already took him out before I came to the bakery.”
My mouth snaps closed, and Hunter gently guides me onto the bed next to the boxes.
“I need your shirt,” he says.
I rake my gaze over his chest. “I don’t think it will fit you.”
He snaps his fingers, and I huff as I drag it over my head and thrust it into his waiting hands. He balls it up and uses it to wipe the residual flour from his face and hair. I can’t believe he walked through the town like that. He has no shame. His hot gaze roams over my full breasts encased in white lace. I know they aren’t exactly proportional to my size—they’re a bit too much of a handful, but we get what we get and learn to work with it the best we can. Being stared at by Hunter like this though, makes me feel warm all over. He looks at me like I am perfect. Does he need to get his eyes checked?
“Shall we open them together?” he asks with an amused tilt to his lips as he throws my shirt in the corner of the room.
I twist and rise to my knees before snatching my box and tearing into it. I’m not embarrassed. He will be, though. Accepting the challenge, he opens his box, and as he roots around the plastic air pockets protecting the contents, he freezes.
“Oh, trouble, it’s not even my birthday.”
“No, it’s October seventeenth.”
He snorts as my box falls open, and he peeks over. “You bought yourself the same toy I stole?”
I fold my arms, raising a challenging brow. “What of it?”
He shakes his head as he pulls out a small white box and tips the contents into his palm. “What’s this?” he asks, holding the rubber ring in his hand.
“A cock ring.”
He blinks, a look of confusion and intrigue flashing across his face. “What does it do?”
“This one has a small vibrating unit. When you put it on, if you twist it to the bottom, it sits against your balls. Or if you twist it up when you’re having sex, it will sit against her clit.”
“We and your.”
It’s my turn to blink in confusion. “What?”
“When we are having sex, it’s against your clit.”
Oh. Heat twists low in my stomach, adding to the sparks he wound up in the bakery.
He places it to the side, then pulls out a small anal plug. His face flushes. “For me? You shouldn’t have.”
“Apparently, it puts pressure on your prostate and makes your orgasm stronger.”
A smirk wipes away his tentative curiosity. “I’m already going to struggle not to come like a teenager with you, Ellie. I don’t need extra things helping it along.”
All this talk of sex makes me agitated. I need him to skip the teasing. Now. I lean back and peel my sneakers off, my jeans quickly following. He watches me intently, taking in every single dip and curve I own and making me feel powerful. For the first time in my life, I don’t feel the need to shield my scars, both inside and out. I know, deep down, Hunter would never hurt me.
