This scene is 18+
Hunter stops stirring the hollandaise sauce when I dig my finger into the jar of Nutella and scoop out a large chunk. My Nutella-loaded finger freezes halfway between the jar and my lips when I catch his cajoling gaze. He isn’t a man of many words, but his eyes alone are sweet-talking enough. He doesn’t even need to speak, and I’m willing to do anything he requests.
After removing the saucepan from the heat, he places it onto the wooden cutting board then prowls my way. My pulse quickens to match the throb awakening in my clit. “I was planning on serving you breakfast before eating mine.” His voice is smoother than the hazelnut spread dripping off my finger and onto my thigh. “But you’ve convinced me to revise my tactics.”
When my eyes snap to the counter next to the open-flamed cooktop, my heartbeat intensifies. Only one plate is sitting next to the discarded saucepan. When I return my eyes to Hunter, the meaning behind his comment crashes into me.
Food isn’t on his breakfast menu.
After stopping to stand in front of me, he pushes my legs apart so he can slot between them. My knees hit the hard curves of his waist when he pops my Nutella-covered finger into his mouth and sucks down hard. As he licks off the nutty goodness on my finger, he makes quick work of the satin tie cinching my knee-length dressing gown to my waist. Air hisses from his lips when he discovers I’m completely bare under the smooth material.
“You can never be too prepared for late-night visitors,” I murmur, wanting to ensure he’s aware I’m only dressed like this for him.
Although his late-night visits are every night, he rarely wakes me, believing I’d be too tired for extracurricular activities. What he doesn’t realize is that I’d refrain from sleeping for a year just for the energy his contact invigorates me with. Even the simplest of gestures, like how he runs his index finger down my scrunched nose, sparks my body with renewed hope. He gets me like no one else ever has. He understands me, and the depth of his knowledge is both shocking and exciting, especially when another reality smashes into me.
I’m falling in love with him.
I tried not to fall for him, but with every day that went by, I fell harder and harder. I often joke with Hunter that I don’t like him. But I do. I like him a lot—a real lot.
I also love him.
Mistaking my stiffened stance as nervousness, Hunter mutters against my heated skin. “Dance with me, Paige.”
Although I am nervous, this time, it isn’t from sexual contact. It’s being scared to death that I’m placing my heart on the line again only to risk it being shattered.
After recalling the words he spoke to me only two short weeks ago, I whisper, “Don’t destroy me, Hunter.”
His warm breath fans my earlobe before he tugs it with his teeth. I melt into his embrace, purring even louder than I did when he drew me into his chest in my writing cave. The way my body reacts to him is genuinely terrifying. My nipples bud painfully, my pussy aches for him, and my entire body pulls taut, dying to be consumed by him. I always knew he’d rocket my core to the next galaxy. I just had no clue it would be this profound. He hasn’t just rocketed my core, he’s demolished and destroyed it for any man who may come after him.
As his fingers travel up the grooves of my ribcage, Hunter’s lips suck, nibble, and bite on my neck. A moan spills from my lips when his exploring hands stop at the swell of my breasts. While sucking on my neck firm enough to mark, he fondles and tweaks my nipples until their hardened peaks.
I thrust out my chest, loving how his big manly hands swamp my less-than-stellar anatomy. Even though his previous companions were big-breasted ladies, he’s never once shown a lack of appreciation for my smaller assets.
For that alone, I like him even more.
With devotion focused on marking my neck with his touch, he curls his arms around my waist and lifts me from the counter. A broad grin stretches across my face when he murmurs, “Grab the Nutella,” into my ear a second before he whisks me out of the kitchen.
As his big hands knead and caress my ass, he moves through the cabin. His steps are as slow and lazy as the teasing kiss he gives after sealing his lips over mine. My stomach grumbles when his citrus-flavored mouth combined with the Nutella he sucked off my finger hits my taste buds.
It’s the perfect combination, ensuring I’ll never eat Terry’s Milk Chocolate Orange Balls again without getting horny.
A grin tugs at my lips when Hunter deposits me onto the bed right in front of the mirror. He even angles my backside so not even the wide span of his shoulders can hide the glistening wetness between my legs.
After giving both our eyes enough time to enjoy the scandalous image in front of us, Hunter mutters, “I still shouldn’t be allowed to touch you, but fucked if I can stay away. You’ve put me under a spell, Paige. Every minute of every day is spent thinking about what I’ve done to you, what I want to do to you, and for exactly how fucking long I’m planning to do it.”
“Yet, you’re still making me wait.”
The flare darting through his eyes heats me up everywhere. “I’m just making sure you know what you’re getting.”
“I know what I’m getting…” I drop my eyes to his impressive crotch. “And then some.”
His growl activates every one of my hot buttons. With his eyes fixed on mine and the rock behind his zipper growing larger for every second we stare at each other, Hunter lowers the fastener in his jeans, then frees his dick from their tight constraints. “Are you sure you’re ready for this, Paige? Ready to taste it, feel it—”
“And be thoroughly fucked by it.” My crudeness should shock me. I should be scampering across the mattress and hiding under the bedding, but for some reason, I’m not. Hunter’s attention has done wonders for my self-esteem over the past two weeks. I feel confident and beautiful and one hundred percent sexy. “So, once again, what are you waiting for?”
When Hunter wedges his knees between my legs, air whistles between my teeth, stopping their press mid-squeeze. “I was just waiting for your fantastic tits to be fully exposed. I think it’s about time I see them covered in my cum.”
I don’t care that his knee is wedged between my legs. They’re squeezing together no matter the firmness of the obstacle between them. His voice was too knee-quaking for a nonchalant response, and it was even hotter than usual since it occurred at the same time a droplet of pre-cum beaded on the end of his fat cock. “What do you say, Paige, a tit fuck for breakfast?”
I almost reply, I doubt there’s enough there to satisfy your hunger, but I hold back. The image of Hunter stroking his cock is already mesmerizing, but it is even more perverse when I notice the direction of his hooded gaze. He’s staring at my chest, and nothing but admiration is beaming from his lusty eyes. “A tit fuck then reverse cowgirl on the edge of the bed. That way, we both get to enjoy watching each other’s face in ecstasy without bringing boring missionary into the equation.”
Hunter’s voice is rough when he mutters, “Missionary isn’t boring when you’re doing it with the right person.” His change in tone isn’t because he’s worried he is once again reminding me about his previous promiscuity. It is from me scooting closer so the droplet of pre-cum that’s about to drip from his cock can fall onto my breasts.
Desire surges through me when Hunter gathers the drop of precum with his thumb before he transfers it to my nipple. The sticky goodness aids in his endeavor to have my nipples standing at attention and ready to be devoured.
Once the second nipple is coated with the same gooey substance, he nudges my shoulder. His shove doesn’t have my back bracing the bedding, but I’m far enough away from him, my shoulder blades touch and my breasts push forward.
“Such perfect tits, Paige. They’re going to look so good with my cum smeared over them.”
There’s enough pre-cum leaking from his cock to lube up the small gulley between my breasts, but Hunter acts as if there isn’t. With a smirk as panty-wetting as it is playful, he dips two fingers in the jar of Nutella, scoops out a generous serve, then raises it to my chin.
It feels like lava scorches my veins when he drags his Nutella-covered hand down the pulse in my throat and between my thrusting chest before he pops his fingers into his mouth to lick up the leftovers.
“Hmm…” he groans in a throaty moan. “Paige and Nutella, my new favorite combination.”
Either forgetting his pledge of a tit-fuck or blindsided by the same rampant horniness making a mess between my legs, he drags his tongue up the path his fingers just took, only stopping when he reaches my mouth. “Want a taste?”
I barely breathe out, “Yes,” when he spears his tongue between my lips and drags it against the roof of my mouth.
Good lord, he tastes good. Sweet and chocolatey—just like his scrumptious voice.
By the time he pulls back from his arousing kiss, his beard is as dark as the mess between my breasts and as matted as he makes my heart feel.
There’s no denying my earlier assumption. I am in love with a man I barely know even with me knowing almost all his infamous quirks.
It’s incredible what you can unearth when you stalk someone for weeks.
“That’s it, baby, dance with me,” Hunter groans as his lips drop from my mouth to my neck before they eventually lower to my chest.
He sucks my nipple into his mouth, not the slightest bit confronted that he smeared his pre-cum on it only seconds ago while he rocks his cock in and out of his clenched hand. The visual of him jacking off is so enticing, tingles race to the lower half of my stomach as my hips begin to naturally rock. We move as one for several long minutes, my pace only slowing when Hunter’s rocks between my breasts bring the crest of his cock to within an inch of my mouth.
He grunts an undecipherable word when my tongue delves out to lick up the sticky goodness pooling at the end, then he doubles the shimmers sparking every inch of my body by instructing me to roll my shoulders forward.
“Yes… just like that,” he murmurs when the slightest movement causes my breasts to cup his thrusting shaft. “Now squeeze them together for me. Milk my cock with your tits like your pussy does every time I fuck you.”
I almost fall back onto the bedding when I do as instructed, but before my shoulder blades get close to the duvet, Hunter bands his arm around my back and holds me in place.
“I got you,” he mutters between the long plunges of his cock, both the roughness of his voice and his pace picking up. “I got you real fucking good.”
When I drop my eyes to the scene causing his murky blues eyes to become the color of the ocean in the dead of night, rampant horniness clusters low in my stomach. My breasts are less than impressive, they barely fill a B cup, but the image of Hunter’s cock sliding in and out of them is panty-wetting delicious. Not even the odd coloring of our lubricant of choice detracts from the awe-inspiring visual. It has me on the cusp of ecstasy in an embarrassing amount of time and desperate to witness the contrast of Hunter’s milky white cum against the darkness of the Nutella.
“Fuck, Paige,” Hunter grunts between grinds when each rock of his hips has my tongue connecting with his enlarged knob. “If you keep doing that, I’m going to come in your mouth instead of over your tits.” His threat excites me more than it scares me, and he knows it. “If that’s what you want, I’ll have to even the score. I’m all about fairness.”
With my breasts no longer on his radar, he scoots forward until more than the tip of his cock encroaches my lips. Several inches break past the barrier I’d never keep fully shut from him.
My moan vibrates down his silky shaft when the combined taste of Hunter and Nutella activates my taste buds. It is a manly, virile palette that has me forgetting I have a gag reflex.
He isn’t sorry. He’s as desperate for me to swallow him down as I am for him to make true on his promise to return the favor. The rock of his hips as he stuffs inches of his cock down my throat assures me of this, not to mention his firm hold of my hair. Even if I wanted to pull back, his hold would never allow it.
Hunter gives fantastic head, and a part of his skills is directly attributed to his hairy chin. Even if I hadn’t added back the detail of Archer’s furry face, I would have eventually written about a character with a full beard because there’s nothing more appealing than a rough and rugged man with his head between a woman’s legs other than evidence of their exchange still lingering on his face hours later.
Hunter’s beard often smells like me, and I like that almost as much as I love the salty liquid pumping onto my tongue.
“This is your final warning, Paige,” Hunter warns between big breaths. “If you don’t want to eat me for breakfast, I suggest you lay back and thrust those fantastic tits into the air.” When I grip his Adonis ass and yank him forward until my eyes are on the verge of popping out of my head, he curses into the cool morning air before he surrenders to the sensation keeping his balls close to his tattooed thighs.
It takes his torso rising and falling several times in a row before his chin eventually balances on his chest, and he smiles a deliciously wicked smirk. “Now it’s my turn for breakfast,” he mutters before he hooks my ankle out from beneath me and yanks me down the bed.
When my hands shoot to his hair, the sensation of his mouth on the cleft of my pussy almost too much to bear, he snatches up my wrists and pins them to my sides. As he holds me hostage to the bed with both his strength and the desire making my limbs double their weight, he stabs his tongue between the folds of my pussy before he drags it up to my clit.
“Do you feel it, Paige?” he murmurs against my aching-with-need skin before he hits my clit with back-to-back flicks of his tongue. “The desire. The connection. The uncontrollable urge to fuck like nothing else in the world matters.”
“Yes,” I reply with a faint bob of my head. “I feel it.”
I feel it so much, I rock against his mouth without a care in the world and dance on his face void of a single qualm. Then, not even a minute later, I shimmer through an orgasm so strong, the scream that rips from my throat could be heard in Ravenshoe.
“One more,” Hunter growls against my dripping center a mere second after I’ve descended from blessedness.
I shake my head, certain I don’t have another orgasm in me today. That one was the strength of three, so I could possibly be out of cum for another hour or two.
“One more,” Hunter growls against my throbbing pussy again before he locks his eyes with mine over the goopy mess between my breasts. “Then I’ll show you that the magic has nothing to do with your chosen position and everything to do with how a woman’s body was created to be worshiped. Doggy, cowgirl, or missionary. It doesn’t matter when the fireworks start long before a couple enters the bedroom.” He licks my cleft, pokes his tongue inside me, then gently grazes my clit with his teeth before muttering, “I should know. I felt them the moment I saw you. The nerves. The butterflies. The desire to make you mine. I felt them all with one fleeting glance.”
His confession sets me off. With an arched back and a moan unlike any I’ve heard leave my mouth, I come with a hoarse cry. Hunter groans when my wetness soaks his lips. After holding down my bucking hips to make sure he doesn’t miss a drop, he drags his beard along the cleft of my pussy, coating it with my scent.
His bristles push my orgasm into a record-breaking shimmer. I shake for several long seconds, equally exhausted and ecstatic that nothing inside me is broken. It was merely the wrong man holding the key to my greatest desires.
Pepper was right.
Hunter isn’t the odd man out.
I just didn’t know what I was looking for until his naked backside was thrust into my peripheral vision. But now that I do, I won’t let it go for anything.
Not even a New York Times No.1 best seller.