Page 62 of Hunter

He’s going to melt me like butter on a hot pan if he continues with this…whatever it is.

My knees feel weak. My dick is already straining against my jeans, and all he’s done is kiss me and say a few filthy, honest words. I should be running and remembering every reason this is a terrible idea. Instead, I’m tilting my head up, chasing his mouth again like a desperate little slut.

Hunter makes a low, wrecked sound and kisses me harder, pressing me back against the rough brick until I can feel every inch of him—the solid wall of his chest, the thick line of his cock against my stomach, the way his hand grips my waist like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.

I moan into his mouth, shameless, and roll my hips forward, grinding against his thigh. The friction pulls another broken sound out of me. He bites my bottom lip, then soothes it with his tongue, as though he can’t decide whether he wants to punish me or worship me.

“Tell me to stop,” he growls against my lips, even as his hand slides under the hem of my cropped hoodie, palm hot against my skin. “Tell me to fucking stop, Charlie.”

I shake my head, fingers digging into his shoulders. “Don’t you dare.”

He hisses, and I belatedly realize I’m gripping his bad arm. But all he does is curse under his breath and kiss me again harder. His hand travels higher, thumb brushing over my nipple, and I arch into the touch with a whimper. The alley is dark and quiet except for the wet sounds of our mouths and my embarrassingly needly little noises.

I’ve never wanted anyone this badly. Not this fast.

Hunter pulls back just enough to look at me. His eyes are blown black, lips wet and swollen, breathing like he just ran ten blocks. He looks ruined. And it’s because of me.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he says, voice hoarse. His thumb strokes over my hip bone, dipping just under the waistband of my jeans. “But I’m going to show you. What’s the quickest way back to your place?”

The words hit me like a spark on gasoline.

My brain short-circuits. All I can do is stare up at him and feel my cock throb so hard it hurts.

I swallow, throat dry, and push at his chest to get him to step back. A flare of something dark and uncertain flashes across his face, but I quickly link my fingers with his, squeezing tight so he knows I’m not rejecting him.

“Come on,” I breathe, voice shaky. “If we hurry we can make the next train.”

Hunter’s eyes stay locked on mine for half a second—wild, hungry, almost disbelieving—then he lets out this low, relieved growl and tightens his grip on my hand. We start moving fast, half-walking, half-jogging down the alley like two people who might actually combust if they don’t get somewhere private soon.

Every step makes my jeans rub against my aching dick. Every time his thumb brushes over my knuckles, I feel it between my legs. I’m so turned on I’m dizzy with it. I haven’t wanted someone like this in years. Maybe ever.

We barely make it onto the train before the doors close. The car is mostly empty this time of night, but Hunter still pulls me into the corner, crowding me against the pole with his body. His free hand slides under my cropped hoodie again, palm hot against my lower back, fingers splayed possessively.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs against my ear, lips brushing the shell of it.

“Because I want you so fucking bad,” I admit, voice barely above a whisper. My forehead drops against his shoulder. “I haven’t… I don’t usually do this. Not anymore. But with you…”

Hunter makes a rough sound and kisses the side of my neck, open-mouthed and wet. “Tell me what you want.”

“Everything,” I whisper. “Just… don’t be gentle. I don’t want gentle tonight.”

His fingers dig into my back hard enough to bruise. The train lurches forward, and he uses the momentum to press me harder against the pole, thigh sliding between mine so I can grind against it.

“Fuck, Charlie,” he breathes against my skin. “You keep saying shit like that and I’m going to drag you off of this train and fuck you at the next station in the bathroom.”

I whimper, rolling my hips against his thigh again, chasing any kind of friction. I’m leaking into my underwear. I know I am. And I don’t care.

The ride feels endless. Every stop is torture. By the time we stumble off at my station, I’m flushed and panting and so hard it hurts to walk. Hunter doesn’t let go of my hand the entire way to my building. His grip is almost bruising.

The second we’re inside my apartment and the door shuts behind us, he spins me around and pins me against it again, kissing me like he’s been dying for hours instead of minutes. I moan into the kiss, hands fisting in his shirt, trying to pull him even closer.

A tiny, demanding meow cuts through the heat.

Sofia.

She immediately starts climbing my leg like a furry little demon, claws pricking through my jeans as she meows louder, clearly pissed that I dared come home without greeting her first.

Hunter pulls back just enough to look down, eyebrows raised. “Is she… attacking you?”