Page 87 of Only the Hunter

“Christ,” he breathes. “You’re so wet.”

“Please—”

One finger travels up my center, then dips inside.

I close my eyes.

He’s getting closer to the need.

His thumb presses down over my clit, as a second finger joins the first, lightly thrusting.

“Look at me,” he says.

I force my eyes open, breath uneven.

“I want to watch you closely.” His pace increases. “Learn what you like.”

His thumb circles, the pressure just right.

“That,” I push out. “Right there.”

“That’s good.”

There’s a smile, but he’s still so fucking deliberate and controlled.

He withdraws his hand and licks both fingers clean.

I’m speechless.

Then he lifts me, spinning me on the bed, and spreads my thighs.

Before I can say anything, he’s between my legs.

And Jesus.

I arch up on the bed as his fingers join his tongue.

The pressure on my clit is…

I toy with his hair, watching as he adds a second finger, more pressure…

This is Gabe. Mouth on me. Fingers in me.

And it’s fucking…

The orgasm rolls through me, my thigh muscles tightening, my toes curling, back arching, and the strangled sound that comes out doesn’t even sound like me.

He doesn’t stop. No, he drags it out, coaxing the aftershocks with light passes of his tongue until I’m trembling.

“Jesus,” I gasp.

He presses his lips to my inner thigh, then trails kisses up to my breasts.

He’s standing between my legs that are dangling over the bed, and he tugs at the comforter, shifting it, and me, closer, until he’s kissing me.

Not content with my lips, he nips along my neck. “You’re perfect. So fucking perfect.”

“Your turn,” I manage, pushing at his shoulders.