“Cross my heart and hope to die, when I first saw you in that parking lot, I knew your blood type was gold. I think we’ll be a good lesson for each other, Sailor. You don’t know how to live, and I don’t know how to do anything but live hedonistically.”
As he said that, I realized I’d never felt more mortal. But being mortal was being alive. I had so much to lose. So much to gain. So much to feel.
Hunter stood, using his thumb to brush the strap of my dress from my shoulder.
“I hate winter,” I croaked, looking down. “I’ve always hated winter.”
“Me too.” He captured my lips in his, unzipping my dress from behind until I was in front of him in nothing but my bra and panties. He kept kissing me—just kissing—gently, artfully, making me forget myself completely.
I forgot I was in the arms of the most untrustworthy man in America.
A man who promised me nothing but heartbreak.
A man who made me break my promise to his father—a promise laced with my future—simply because he knew how to charm his way out of every situation.
The first rain of fall started beating on the windows outside, and my heart squeezed in my chest.
Send me a signal, God, I’d asked the day Hunter thrust himself into my life. I wondered what fate was trying to tell me now.
He kissed me until my lips were sore, and when he took a step back to scan my body head to toe, I noticed he’d gotten rid of my bra somehow without my even realizing it. My underwear was shoved halfway down my legs, to my knees. I blinked back at him, awaiting verdict.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking at you.” He rearranged the bulge in the center of his sweatpants.
“You’ve already seen me naked.” I scowled, taking a step forward and wrapping my arms around his neck. He dodged me again, still watching my body.
“Not willingly.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Then, you were a bomb waiting to be diffused. Now you’re an offering.”
I gritted my teeth, ready to lash out at him. Every time we were in the same room, the urge to fight him and have sex with him overwhelmed me.
“Well?” I pushed my panties all the way down, knotting my arms over my breasts, arching an eyebrow. “Am I good enough for you?”
“No,” he said evenly. “You’re better than me.”
With that, he pounced, throwing me to his bed, kissing my lips roughly, his mouth traveling down my neck. He stopped at my chest, drawing one of my nipples into his mouth and sucking it so hard I let out a whimper. I shoved his sweatpants down by the waistband, bracketing his waist with my legs and toeing the fabric away like a savage while my hands roamed his back. After sucking my entire breast into his mouth, he moved to the next one while reaching between us and playing with my clit. This time, he bit my nipple, teasing it with his teeth and tongue. I writhed, finding his engorged erection between our bodies, squeezing it hard.
“I’m going to fuck your brains out,” he groaned into my skin, his face sliding down from my tits to my navel. My entire body shook. His ridge slipped from my hand as he moved, leaving me with nothing. I felt empty, buzzing with anticipation.
“Do it, then.” I stomped on his mattress.
He laughed, taking his sweet time and drawing circles with his tongue down to my belly button, lazy strokes that made me thrash beneath him, arching my back, offering more of my body to him.
I wanted to regret the day I’d said yes to this arrangement, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Strangely, I felt this was exactly where I was supposed to be, and who I was supposed to be with.
His mouth clamped on my clit, and he sucked it into his mouth. I moaned, running my fingers through his glorious hair, watching him eat me out with hungry eyes. He looked me in the eye the entire time, and I wanted to cry, because I knew no other man could make me feel the way he did. I felt like a peach, dripping nectar directly into his mouth.
The orgasm crept up on me. One moment I was enjoying his strokes, my body shivering on his bed, and the next each and every one of my muscles clenched, tightened, and tensed, my eyes falling shut as I cried out his name.
It took me almost a full minute to come down from the post-orgasmic fog, and by the time I sobered up, he was already sheathed with a condom, nudging my legs apart, and angling his cock into me, watching as his tip slid in.
I looked up at him. His eyes seared through mine.
“Permission to wreck your uterus?”
I nodded.
“I won’t be gentle.” He flashed one of his infamous half-smirks—the one he’d probably used thousands of times and resulted in thousands of orgasms. It felt dirty to the bone, being with him in a way so many others had. Problem was, no one told me how enjoyable his filthy halo would feel rubbing on me.
“I don’t need gentle. I’m a warrior, remember?” I grabbed his face, bringing him down for a scorching-hot kiss.
He slid all the way in with one thrust, biting the side of my neck like a tiger draining his victim of blood. “That’s what makes you so unfortunately irresistible.”
He thrust inside me in long, deep strokes. With each shove, I felt the bed moving an inch. The headboard slammed against the wall, the mattress squeaking its protest beneath us. Hunter hoisted one of my legs over his shoulder, wrapping the other against his waist while his eyes bore into mine. The bed and I whined in unison.
“Slow down,” I half-protested when I couldn’t understand whether it was me shaking the bed with my tremors, or the bed quaking beneath me.
Hunter was relentless. He was so hard and thick, I wondered if my insides would forever be molded to the shape of his erection. Screwing with him would make for an easier birth experience, I swore. He widened and stretched me, and I’d never felt so deliciously full in my life.
Hunter stopped, grabbed the back of my thigh from his shoulder, and flipped me over on my stomach. Reaching down between my legs, he hoisted my ass up in the air and spread my butt cheeks with his thumbs.
“Indulge me, baby,” he hissed, coating his finger with my juices and sliding it into my tight hole. It squeezed around him nervously, and he wiggled his finger a little inside, stroking gently.
“Why?”
He kissed the side of my face, the silhouette of his features in my peripheral. He was so beautiful it squeezed my heart, making me want to cry.
“Because I’m your favorite villain,” he whispered.
With that, he withdrew his finger and then slid it back into me, an inch at a time. I cried out, clenching the sheets between my fingers and squeezing my eyes shut. He pushed his fingers into me at the same time. I loved it. All of it. Having him in both my holes. So full of him.
I loved that it felt a dash degrading.
Most of all, I loved that Hunter Fitzpatrick was crazy enough to screw someone behind his father’s back and risk losing his inheritance. Brave enough to fuck the daughter of a mob boss like an animal, knowing the potential consequences.
He was fearless, and a rebel, and a sinner, and a saint.
A prince who’d never wanted his title.
A pure-hearted rake.
He was everything a woman should run away from, personified. And yet here I was, falling deeper.
Overwhelming pleasure coursed between us, and I felt him swelling and jerking inside me as I fought my next climax, desperate we do this together.