Page 114 of The Order of the Bitter Hunt

He wears a bewildered look, and I realize he’s underestimating my stamina. Well, that’s his first mistake.

His lids flutter as I wrap my hand around his length. He’s already so hard, and I waste no time taking him into my mouth. I’ve longed to wrap my lips around him. It’s something I thought about even before this semester—getting on my knees and rendering him silent. To make him weak from my mouth alone is… well, I’m living a dream. My tongue twirls around his thick head, licking up his pre-cum.

He holds the wall for support. His other hand moves to my head, fingers curling in my wet hair. “Fuck.”

I lift my head long enough to smirk at him, stroking him with my other hand. “That’s right,” I murmur. “Let me take care of you. That’s my good boy.”

It’s a taunt, and we both know it—he was right earlier. I don’t want to win. I want to prod and pry him until he takes the win for himself. His nostrils flare, fingers tightening in my hair.

“You’re a fucking brat,” he grunts.

“And?” I lift a brow, squeezing him tighter. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Open your pretty mouth, and I’ll show you.”

He uses his grip on my hair to force himself into my mouth. I’m full of him, taking him, his hips thrusting into my mouthrecklessly. My eyes never leave him as he goes, letting him fill my mouth—both of us sharing the knowledge that I don’t have to breathe. No need to stop.

When he comes down my throat, I’m squeezing my thighs together, already wet and needy again.

He grasps my hair harder, pulling me off his length. “Fucking hell. Come here, princess.”

I’m on my feet before he can ask again, and our mouths crash together. Devouring, tasting, needing…

Finally, we clean up and go to bed. We could both keep going—and we know it—but I force myself to settle down. I rest on top of his chest, my ear pressed to him, and his heartbeat lulls me into comfort.

I could stay here all night—all week, perhaps for the rest of my life. Forget the mysteries. I could be happy with him if we both lived different lives.

“Margaux?” he whispers.

I lift my head. “Hm?”

The lump in his throat bobs. “It’s embarrassing…”

I narrow my eyes. “You had better tell me before I assume the worst.”

What he says next can ruin us or start us, and I don’t know which to expect. We’re good at this—at being in bed and pushing each other’s buttons—but what if we don’t amount to anything more? What if we can’t?

“I fucking love you,” he says.

My eyes widen. I had a feeling he would say something important—butthatis unexpected. “I beg your pardon?”

“Sorry, but I do. And it’s not just tonight. It’s not about the sex. That’s great, too, but it’s more. I think you know that. It’s always been more. Come the fuck on.”

He feels it, too. The mating bond. The warmth in my chest curls up, settling in, and I realize what’s happening.

We’re choosing each other, and the bond that comes with it. The energy between us strengthens, roaring to life, and I know no one can keep us apart.

“Then what is it about?” I sit up, fixing him with a serious look.

He rolls his eyes. “You’re digging for compliments.”

“Perhaps. Will you give them?”

“It’s about everything.Youare everything. I’ve always admired you—you pushed me to be my best and to want to live a… I don’t know. An actual life. One with dreams and ambition.”

“I’m sure you had those before we met.”

“No.” He chuckles. “I was mediocre as fuck when I came to Strode. It was you. Seeing you put your heart into your passion made me want to do it, too. Do you know I was planning on being an accountant? I came here with no major and no clue what I wanted to do, and accounting was my backup plan, but one drama class withyouhad me switching up.”