Page 135 of Hunted

I whimper, movements growing desperate, breasts bouncing with each roll of my hips, nipples tight and aching. His cock is so close to slipping inside, but I keep just out of reach, my entrance kissing the tip with every pass.

‘Come here,’ he growls.

I obey mindlessly, crying out when he catches one nipple between his lips. His tongue slicks over it before he suckles it into his mouth, dangerously close to those sharp fangs.

‘I can feel how badly you want it, little hunter,’ he snarls when my nipple pops free. ‘How badly you want me to fuck you.’

‘I – I don’t—’ I gasp, but my hips stutter as pleasure coils tighter.

‘Liar.’ His voice is rough with need.

Strong hands slide up my back, grip my hair, yank my head down to his. This kiss is brutal, his teeth nipping at my lower lip.

‘Say the words, Eira. Say you want me to pin you down and ruin you.’

A shudder runs through me.

Gods, I do. But I can’t say it.

Instead, I grind down harder, my clit dragging against his shaft. My orgasm hovers right there, just out of reach, my body trembling with the effort of holding back.

‘That’s it, little hunter,’ he murmurs against my lips.

Fuck, something about the way he calls me little hunter gets under my skin and curls there, half taunt, half invitation, until I can’t tell if I want to stab him for it or climb him like a bad decision.

Guess I’ll just keep riding him.

I whine, nails digging into his shoulders. I’m so close⁠—

And then he moves.

His hips buck up, his cock sliding between my folds, the head pressing just inside my entrance. Not enough to break me, but enough to make my vision white out.

‘Valentin—!’

‘Feel,’ he growls. ‘Taste what it would be like to break yourself on me, Eira. To know pleasure like never before.’

But I can’t.

I won’t.

I pull back, trembling, pussy clenching around nothing as my head drops. I feel him watching, his cock parting me, then gliding between us wet and filthy, glistening with my arousal.

‘What about you, Don Moretti?’ I whisper, voice shaking with victory and need. ‘A great beast, rutting between his little hunter’s thighs. How badly do you want to come?’

A rumble starts in his throat. And then⁠—

His control snaps.

A guttural roar tears from him as his cock pulses, thick spurts of cum painting his stomach, his chest, his throat. His body arches off the bed, muscles locked tight as pleasure wracks him.

I watch, stunned, then wildly triggered by the sight.

My own orgasm crashes over me, dragging a howl from my lungs as my pussy clenches, release soaking his cock, his balls, the sheets beneath us.

He collapses back against the bed, chest heaving, eyes dark and satisfied. ‘Brava, little hunter. All done, and with forty seconds to spare,’ he rasps, voice rough with amusement.

I whimper, body still trembling.