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Chapter 6

One week later

The trouble with a flirt battle was that both parties had to actively participate. Both parties had to know how to actually flirt.

And Gretchen had been flirting her head off, but she was getting nowhere fast.

It wasn’t that Hunter wasn’t interested. If anything, he seemed more interested than ever. But when she teased, he froze up. When she coyly suggested things, he shut down.

When she’d made him dinner, he’d stared at her in silence, and her attempts at conversation had fallen completely flat. Her pleasure at showing him her cooking had been deflated by the fact that he’d looked as if he’d wanted to escape the room.

And yet . . . she continued to get roses every day. Delicate, scented blooms that were thoughtfully selected for her, along with a note inviting her to dinner. She’d declined it once or twice, just to see how he’d react.

He hadn’t reacted at all. And that had been even more frustrating.

She’d tried being sexy. In fact, she’d offered to help him in the greenhouse one day and had unbuttoned her shirt, declaring herself overheated and exposing a lot of skin. All she’d gotten was an abrupt suggestion that she take a shower and him turning away.

Not exactly the reaction she’d wanted. She was utterly mystified. How could she break through to him? She supposed she could state it baldly. I’d really like it if you and I did a little mutual exploring. I’ll even go first.

But she was enjoying the challenge. And screaming out that she desired him seemed almost like a cop out. Plus, he’d probably run for the hills.

Virgins were so much trouble.

The letters weren’t helping things, either. Now that things had escalated between Lula and Benedict, they weren’t holding back at all. Letter after letter went into great detail of what Lula would do to Benedict with her mouth, and how she’d please him. He’d write pages back to her, describing how he’d like to lay her down under the trees, spread her petals wide, and lick her nectar clean. By the time she finished a day of the letters, Gretchen was squirming and overheated, her imagination on fire. She kept picturing Hunter as Benedict, and herself as Lula. Each graphic description left her breathing hard and her panties wet.

There had to be a way to get through to Hunter.

***

 

It was during one of their frequent dinners that Gretchen found a chink in Hunter’s icy armor.

Her phone rang while they were in the midst of a quiet conversation. Surprised, Gretchen picked up her phone and gave an apologetic look to Hunter. “I should take this.”

She rarely got calls out of the blue, so any sort of call concerned her. Especially if it was coming from Cooper’s Cuppa.

“Hello?”

“Gretch? It’s me.”

She glanced down the table at Hunter, who seemed to be staring at a painting on the wall and trying very hard not to listen in on her phone conversation. “Hey Coop. What’s up?”

“I was calling to, well, check on you. See how you’re doing.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she said brightly. “The project’s coming along really well. I might even finish early.”



Hunter accidentally sent his knife skidding, the silverware clanking.

“That’s great news,” Cooper said enthusiastically. “I’ve really missed seeing you.”

“I’ve missed seeing you, too.” She watched as Hunter picked up his knife and gripped it, his knuckles white. “It’s weird being away from everyone,” she added to defuse the statement and make it friendly instead of romantic.

“When you come back, I . . . I think I’d like for us to have a nice talk.”

Her mouth went dry and Gretchen panicked. “Oh, Coop. I just . . . I don’t know. Can’t we just let things go as they do?” Her gaze slid back to Hunter, who was still staring at the painting. “Can I call you back some other time? Now’s really not great.”

“Oh, of course. I just . . . you know. Wanted to tell you that I missed you. That’s all.” His sad puppy voice grated on her nerves.

“I’ll see you when I get back,” she said, and hung up. Picking up her napkin, she folded it in her lap again. “Sorry about that.”

“Boyfriend?” he asked, and the word was almost a growl.

Gretchen’s eyes widened. That was . . . interesting. It was almost a reaction. Should she push harder or lay off? She decided to push a little harder. “A male friend. He misses me.”

“Then perhaps it’s a good thing that you’re finishing early,” he said abruptly. He stood, tossing his napkin to the table. “I won’t keep you from your work any longer.”

“Oh, but—”

Hunter turned and stalked out.

Gretchen sighed heavily. Good Lord, but the man was prickly. She sat at the table a moment longer, toying with the casserole on her plate. She didn’t want to leave things like that. Didn’t want Hunter spending the evening all annoyed and frustrated. She’d had her share of frustrated evenings herself lately.

Tossing her napkin down on the table next to his, she stood up and pocketed her phone, determined to find Hunter and talk to him.

She headed to his wing of the house first, but all the doors were shut, and no one responded to her knocking. He was either not there, or simply not answering. Before she’d give up, she’d try one more place.

Hugging her sweater close, Gretchen headed down the long walk to the greenhouse. There was a light inside, and one of the doors was eased open just a crack. Curious and a bit nosy despite herself, she moved forward and peered through the crack.

He was across the room, standing near one of the beams that kept the arched roof of the greenhouse aloft. Hunter’s back was to her, one hand clenched above his head and resting on the beam, the other against his side. His entire form seemed curiously tense, his head bent forward as if he were struggling with something.

She bit her lip. Damn. Surely he wasn’t that upset over a phone call? Hell, that would be uncomfortable in the extreme. What did she do now? Gretchen stepped inside, just as he tilted his head back, and she caught sight of his face, which was full of tension. The hand at his side jerked a bit more.

And she realized he was masturbating.

Gretchen froze for a moment, shocked. He’d retreated out of anger—or jealousy—and she’d expected to see him seething as he pruned his roses. She’d expected to argue with him, cajole him to see her side, and maybe they’d walk away on better terms.

She’d never imagined that she’d catch him pleasuring himself.

It shocked her senses as much as it aroused her. She felt herself grow slick with excitement, and she barely resisted the urge to stroke herself between her own legs in response to his movements. She moved forward, her steps quiet as she carefully shut the greenhouse door behind her and approached him. He hadn’t noticed her yet. His shoulders seemed to be aching with tension and need, his entire form tense.

She moved forward and lightly touched his shoulder, heat coursing through her.

He jerked around, startled. Hunter’s eyes were wide, his pupils dilated with need, the scars on his face flaring white against the red of his cheeks. His hand was still curled around his cock, and he stood there for a moment, as if too shocked to move.

And then he began to pull away from her.

“No,” she whispered. “Don’t.”

Her fingers curled in his jacket and she held him there. He seemed frozen in place, like a wild animal caught by the barest of tethers. One wrong move and he’d snap, retreating. She didn’t want that. She wanted to touch him.

Her hand slid down to cover his, where he grasped his cock. “Is this for me?”

His mouth parted slightly, but no words came out.

“I think it is,” she said softly. “May I touch you?” She knelt before him, not caring that she was kneeling in the slightly damp, slightly muddy path in the center of the greenhouse. All she knew was that she wanted to touch him—to pleasure him. To give him something that would blow his mind.

She really, really wanted to blow his mind.

Once she was kneeling, she slid her other hand up his thigh, her gaze moving up to his face. He seemed paralyzed in a rictus of yearning and . . . fear? Of what? The scars were livid against the high color in his face, the slashes marring the beauty of his features.

Very slowly, she uncurled his fingers from around his cock, releasing his grip. “I want to get a look at you,” she told him in a low voice. “It makes me wet just thinking about this. I remember seeing you, naked and gleaming from the shower, though you weren’t as big then as you are today.” She ran a finger down the length of him, from root to tip, idly exploring.

Pre-cum slid down the head of his cock in response to her touch, and Gretchen sighed with pleasure.

“You’re very big. I like that. I imagine when I take you in my throat, it’s going to be hard to take you deep, isn’t it? I’m going to have to work to fit all of you.” Her fingers brushed against his sac, then she clasped the base of his cock, measuring its girth. “You’ll have to be patient with me.”

And she leaned in and swiped the slick head of his cock with her tongue.

A full body tremble moved through him, and she noticed the hand at his side clenched into a fist. Gretchen looked up at Hunter. “Do you want me to stop? Or can I keep exploring you?”

“I . . . no. Keep . . . going.” His words sounded almost strangled, the tension on his face incredible.

“Good,” she purred, giving his cock a stroke of her hand, squeezing in a mimic of his jerky earlier motions. She heard his sharp intake of breath and was pleased.

And because she wanted to torment him a little more, she leaned in even more and put her mouth on the head of his cock again, sucking the large tip of it into her mouth. She swirled her tongue around the crown, enjoying the salty, pleasing taste of him and the way his hand spasmed at his side in response.

Gretchen flicked her tongue over the slit and worked her hand against the base again, gazing up at Hunter. “I love touching you. Tastes so good. Do you want to touch me?”

“I . . .” His hand clenched again.

“It’s okay,” she told him in a soft voice. “Maybe this time I’ll just touch you.” She took him into her mouth again, rubbing her tongue against the vein along the bottom of his cock and taking him deeper into her mouth, then pulling back.

Suddenly, his hand was in her hair and he groaned, his fingers tightening in her hair. Oh, yes. Gretchen felt wetness flood her panties in a fresh wave, and she moaned at his touch.

He flinched and pulled away.

She released him from her mouth and shook her head. “I like it when you touch me. Show me what you want. Please, Hunter.”

And she let her lips rest against the head of his cock, looking up at him and waiting.

The look in his eyes was a mixture of frenzied longing and . . . something else. Anxiety? She wanted to make that look go away, but it would take time. For some reason, sex made the man skittish. She’d have to be patient.

And she waited.

Ever so slowly, his hand moved back to her hair, all the while his cock pulsed in her hand. His pulse was beating so strong she could feel it through his hot skin. Then he gave her head a subtle nudge forward.

He wanted her to take him deep.

She parted her lips, letting the head of his cock push into her mouth. He groaned again and pushed her head forward with more force.

She took him deep into her mouth, but she hadn’t been stroking his ego; he was big and thick, and she couldn’t take him to the root, not at first. Slowly, she worked him deeper, relaxing her jaw and letting each stroke push a little more, until he was hitting the back of her throat and her lips were meeting her hand, which was still curled at the base of his cock.

Hunter’s entire body began to tremble again and he bit out a curse. He tugged on her hair, trying to pull her backward. “I . . . no. Gretchen . . .”

He was going to come; she knew as much based on the tension in his body and the way he struggled for control. And she wanted to let him know it was okay. So she moaned again and sank deeper onto him, relaxing her jaw to take him deeper.

“Ah!” His hand tightened in her hair, and then she felt his hot come filling her throat. She ignored his efforts to pull away, digging her fingers into his slacks and holding him there until he’d finished.

He panted above her and, with a shudder, the tension left his body.

Gretchen released him, swallowing again, her own body wired with need. It wouldn’t happen tonight, she suspected. It would be too much for him to take in. Tonight was all about Hunter.

His fingers slowly released her hair from their stranglehold and then he reached out and caressed her cheek.

“I . . . ,” he began.

She got to her feet, nearly swaying with how much she wanted him. Her core ached, her pulse throbbing with need. She forced herself to ignore it. “Don’t overthink it, Hunter. Just enjoy it.”

“Gretchen.” The way he said her name was so husky that it made her wet all over again.

She bit her lip and brushed her fingers over his mouth, careful to avoid the scar that tugged down the one side. “Goodnight, Hunter.”

And she turned around and left.

It was the most difficult walk she’d ever done. She wanted to run back to him, bend over the nearest table and present him with her slick, aching sex, demanding that he take her. But Hunter was skittish. He’d bolt if she overwhelmed him.

There was something that filled him with anxiety and some sort of idea that he was hideous—his scars, probably. It was something that had affected him so much that he chased most people out of his life, lived in a big lonely house with no one but a grouchy butler, and avoided the world.

She’d take her time with him. It was important to her to show him how delicious he was and how wonderful sex could be.

And so she’d be patient. Or try to, anyhow.

***

 

Goddamn.

Hunter leaned against the pole in the greenhouse, his entire body feeling wrung out.

Had he imagined it all? That had to be it. Surely reality didn’t hold a place where someone as beautiful and sexy as Gretchen approached him in his greenhouse while he’d jerked on his cock, desperate with need for her. Reality didn’t include scenes like that. Nor did it have her kneeling in front of him, taking him in her mouth and finishing for him.

It did not have her moaning with her own pleasure as she took him into her throat.

He groaned, his mind full of images of her.

He’d never expected that in a million years. He was still shaken to his core by her.

That phone call at dinner had aroused something in him that he was unfamiliar with—jealousy. She’d gotten a phone call from a man, and white-hot agony had pierced his mind. He wanted her. He didn’t want that stranger she was so friendly with to have her.

Gretchen was his.

And before tonight, he’d have cast aside that idea. She didn’t want a scarred, lonely man. She deserved someone as lively and full of life as she was.

And yet tonight, she’d touched him. She’d taken him into her mouth and pleasured him. And when he’d tried to pull away, she’d insisted on finishing him.

His cock grew hard again, just thinking about her. Automatically, he took himself in his hand, stroking as he closed his eyes.

He’d been blown away by the sight of her gorgeous breasts the other day when she’d flashed him. He allowed that visual to mix in with his erotic thoughts of her now. Her breasts were full, with small, rosy nipples. He pictured her naked as she knelt in front of him, the tips brushing against his skin as she took his cock in her mouth. Groaning, he fisted his cock harder.

At the thought of her beautiful lips parting to take him, the tip of her tongue flicking over the head, he came with a shout, spraying his cum on the path before him. Drained, Hunter collapsed to his knees, staring at his greenhouse.

He’d never picture it quite the same way ever again. Never be able to come here without seeing her kneeling in front of him.

It was his first sexual experience with someone else. And it had been flat-out amazing. He didn’t know what had possessed Gretchen to give such a gift to him, but he’d treasure it always.

***

 

Hunter dressed with care for dinner the next night. He’d spent the last day in turmoil, his world upended by his interlude with Gretchen.

He’d worked out until his skin dripped with sweat, then headed to the showers. But the showers made him think of Gretchen and how she’d discovered him naked. So he’d jerked off and then jerked off again when he thought of her, easing her robe open.

If she knew he was a virgin, she’d be appalled. Someone as open and forthright with her sexuality as Gretchen would laugh at him. So he needed to be relaxed at dinner. Act as if nothing had changed between them.

And yet he picked her a rose with extra care. He’d liked seeing one of his flowers behind her ear the other night. Perhaps he’d get to put this one on her, run his fingers along the delicate shell of her ear, tuck it into her red hair . . .

Throw her down on the table and fuck the hell out of her, make her give those wild, sexy little moans again.

Hunter shook his head, willing the visual out of his mind and for his cock to go down. He took a few moments to compose himself, then entered the dining room they used for their meetings.

It was empty.

She’d called off dinner. She was embarrassed by what she’d done. Disappointment flashed through him, and Hunter moved to the table, picking up the note there.

Dinner’s running late. I’m in the kitchens. G.

Immediately, he headed for the kitchens, hope putting a spring in his step. She wasn’t avoiding him, then. He adjusted his collar, finding it rather warm in the house, and played with the cuffs of his shirt as he entered the kitchen, rose in hand.

He didn’t see her at first. The delicious scent of baking bread filled the air, but he could see no one. His gaze scanned the kitchen and disappointment flared again.

Then Hunter noticed her bent over, her lovely ass flexing as she pulled something out of the oven. He immediately went hard again, longing tearing through him.

God, he wanted her.

“Oh! Hey,” Gretchen said, turning and closing the door to the oven with her foot. “Sorry about this. I thought the roast would be ready in a half hour, but it’s still looking a little pinker than I’d like, so we need to give it a bit more time. That’s why I’m still in here.” She set the bread pan on the counter and smiled at him. “Hope you don’t mind filling up on bread and appetizers until it’s done.”

He gave a brief, jerky nod, unable to take his eyes off her smiling face.

“Is that for me?”

“What?” He glanced down and noticed he was still clutching the pale yellow rose he’d picked for her. “Yes,” he said, internally wincing at the brusque tone of his voice.

“The bud’s tight on this one,” she said, pulling off her oven mitts and taking the flower from him. She lifted it to her nose and closed her eyes, giving a slight groan of pleasure that made him tense with anticipation all over again. “Smells wonderful.”

“Yes,” he said again. He didn’t know what else to say. He was mesmerized by her.

As he watched, she lifted the rose and brushed the rosebud against her full lower lip. “Soft.”

His cock jerked. The way she’d moved it against her lips made him think of yesterday. Oh, fuck.

She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Ready for dinner?”

“I . . .” He couldn’t go anywhere. Not with this aching hard-on. Couldn’t sit with her and pretend that he wasn’t ready to spill in his pants. “No. I must go.”

And before she could protest, he walked out of the kitchen.

Like a fucking coward. A fucking coward who needed an ice-cold shower to get his cock back under control.

***

 

Gretchen was getting frustrated.

She sighed and flopped down on the couch in the library, glaring up at the blue mural on the ceiling.

She’d thought their little interlude in the greenhouse would make him open up to her a bit more. Get him to bend a bit. She wanted more from him. Last night, she’d dreamed of kissing him for hours. Nothing else but just sitting in each other’s arms, exploring each other’s lips as if not a care in the world.

She wanted that. She wanted to kiss Hunter, and so much more.

But she hadn’t seen him for two days. She’d invited him to dinner and he’d declined. Was he done with her now that she’d gone down on him?

It didn’t make sense. Every instinct she had about men—and she’d dated around quite a bit during her college days—told her that Audrey had nailed it and he was a virgin. It explained his reactions perfectly, his wariness any time she came on to him.

And despite his virginity, he still wanted her. It was obvious in every look he sent her way.

So why was he avoiding her?

Maybe he was uncomfortable with approaching her and asking for more? Should she be bold and come right out with it? Put his hand on her breast and her hand on his cock and say, “I want this”?

Sighing, she picked up another letter and skimmed it. “Good God, these two are horny little buggers,” she muttered to herself, reading yet another description of Ben licking at Lula’s perfect feminine petals. The letters had been arousing at first, but with her own frustrations in the relationship department, they just became excruciating. It was no fun to read about someone else having incredible sex when she couldn’t even get Hunter to kiss her.

She folded up a letter and tossed it aside. Hell, she needed to get Hunter in here to read some of these letters. Then maybe he’d be just as worked up as her.

Gretchen stared down at the folded letter on the table. That was it.

Perfect.

Get Hunter in here. Somehow get him to read a letter. Then, her reluctant virgin would be putty in her hands.

A wicked smile curved her mouth.

She penned a quick note and folded it, then rang the bell pull. Five minutes later, Eldon arrived.

He gave her a sour look. “What may I help you with?”

Gretchen held the note out to him. “Can you please give this to Hunter?”

Eldon looked down at the note. With a disapproving sniff, he took it in his hand. “More commentary about my cooking?”

“Nope. I’m inviting Hunter in for some research help.”

Eldon raised an eyebrow. “I am sure Mr. Buchanan would prefer not to be disturbed with such requests. If you need assistance, you are to go to me.”

Yick. The thought of having Eldon assist made her want to throw up her cookies. Thank god he had no idea what he’d just suggested. “No, I’m pretty sure he’d prefer to help me with this on his own. Anyhow, can you just give him the note?”

“Very well.” Man, she didn’t think one person could stuff that much disapproval in two words, but she was wrong.

Eldon disappeared down the hall and Gretchen watched the door, a bundle of nerves. After five minutes had passed and no one showed up, she began to feel silly. Of course he wouldn’t come the instant she summoned him. He could have been busy. She returned to the letters, pulling out a few that would be likely candidates for her seduction scenario, and began to type in the next letter in sequence.

There was a knock at the door some time later.

Gretchen looked up just as the door opened. Hunter stood there in the doorway, his frame poker-stiff as ever, his face inscrutable. He wore a dark navy dress shirt, the collar slightly open. His hair was damp, as if he’d just gotten out of the shower, the ends curling, and she wanted to touch it.

He cleared his throat and then focused his gaze in her direction—but not on her. “Is there a problem?”

“Yes. You won’t look at me.”

He looked startled at that, his gaze flying to her. “I—”

“It’s okay,” she interrupted, getting to her feet and picking up the stack of letters she’d set aside. “I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. I just know that you always look away when you’re uneasy. You’ve been avoiding me since the greenhouse.”

He said nothing, but she watched the red rise in his cheeks.

“Look, Hunter, I apologize if my actions made you uncomfortable. I want us to be friends. We can still be friends, can’t we?” She forced herself to keep her expression as innocent as possible.

“Friends,” he bit out after a long moment. “Of course.”

“Great. I thought I’d ask you, friend to friend, if you could help me with my project a little.”

He shut the door behind him, stepping into the room a bit further. “Of course.”

She smiled and extended the stack of carefully folded letters to him. “Perfect. I’m trying to transcribe this in a way that’ll be interesting to readers, and I’m having trouble with the dynamics.”

Hunter picked up the first letter and began to open it. “Dynamics?”

She laid her hand over the letters—so he couldn’t read them too early and bolt—and gestured at the couch. “Shall we sit?”

She half-expected him to decline, but after a moment’s hesitation, he followed. Discreetly, she glanced at his crotch. He was already hard with wanting her, unable to control himself. In that moment, she loved his virginity.

Gretchen slid a little closer to Hunter, leaning over his arm and pressing her breast against him, pretending interest in the letters she’d handed him. “I think if we’re able to act out some of the things that are described, it’ll be easier for me to write them. I’m a visual learner, after all.”

“I see.” His gaze moved toward her, and then he glanced away as if burned.

She noticed he was careful to keep his good side of his face toward her, and a little part of her heart ached to see that. Did he truly think he was so hideous that he needed to hide who he was? The scars were not beautiful, but they were fascinating. They made him different.

She liked different.

“Shall we start, then?” She reached for the first letter and brushed her breast against his arm again, her nipple hardening at the contact. Gretchen had to stifle a moan of pleasure. He was so big, hard, and warm against her and he smelled divine. Hell, give her a few more minutes of this torture and she’d be rubbing up against him like a cat in heat. “Why don’t I read the first one? You can read the next.”

“Very well,” Hunter said. She noticed his gaze had moved from the letters to her breasts.

Gretchen cleared her throat politely, unfolded the first letter, and then peeked over at him. “There is a man and a woman mentioned in this letter. I’ll be Lula, and I’d appreciate it if you can be Ben for me.”

He gave a quick nod.

My dearest Ben,” Gretchen began in a soft voice. “It has been thirty days since we last saw each other. How languidly time passes when I am not in your arms. How achingly slow the sun moves through the skies, and the days cycle into evening. The nights are the hardest for me.” She peeked up at him again, but he hadn’t moved away. Encouraged, she continued. “It seems the darkest hours are our time, my love. Last night I had a dream of our most recent party together. I remember that you found me in the dark. You put your hand on mine and guided it to your lips.

A hint of a frown touched Hunter’s mouth, bunching the scars on his cheek. He reached for her hand. Fascinated, she was so distracted by his touch she almost missed the graze of his mouth over her knuckles, and she felt heat flash through her anew.

Gretchen’s voice grew a little shaky as she read on. “Then, it was like you changed your mind on what you wished to do to me. You took my hand and raised it over my head, pinning it there. I remembered that you held me down on the sofa and your weight settled over me.”

Hunter stiffened against her, and Gretchen thought he would refuse her. Then he laced his fingers in hers and lifted her hand over her head. In a swift move that left her breathless, he pushed her down to the couch, his weight settling over her and between her legs.

His face was close enough to kiss, his breath brushing against her skin. His gaze moved over her face, and Gretchen felt a hint of nerves.

He studied her. “Was this a plan to get me to touch you?” he asked softly. His thumb caressed her wrist, his eyes boring into hers.

“Who, me?” She gave him an innocent look. “I just wanted you to help me act through some of the letters.”

“Mmmhmmm.”

She shifted her hips, wriggling underneath him a little until she felt his cock cradled against her hips. A sigh of pure pleasure escaped her. “I might have had a slight ulterior motive. Slight.”

His thumb continued to stroke her wrist and he said nothing. Just that small motion was driving her wild. With his weight settled between her legs and that small touch teasing her, she definitely understood Lula’s sentiments.

“What comes next?” he asked huskily.

“Let me see,” she whispered, distracted when his hand began to slide down her thigh. “My pantaloons are damp with arousal just thinking of your touch. I think of your lips grazing over my skin. How you’d rip my clothing away and bury your face into my feminine petals, determined to make me cry out with delight. You would taste me and please me even as your hands reached up to caress my breasts.” Gretchen fanned her face with the letter. “Whew. Sounds wild.”

He ignored her chatter, carefully sliding his hand away from her wrist and moving it down her torso. He hovered for a moment over her breast and then, ever so slowly, laid his palm against her breast through her shirt. His thumb grazed over her nipple and she sucked in a breath, surprised at how good that felt.

Hunter looked down at her breasts, his own breathing speeding in time with hers. Very gently, he circled his cupped hand on her breast, kneading the flesh and catching the nipple between his fingers and plucking at it.

She whimpered, biting her lip and angry at herself for making noise. The look on his face was so incredibly intense that she hated to interrupt—she didn’t want him to stop, not for anything.

He continued to caress her breast and whispered, “What did the letter say again?”

“Um.” She forced her gaze away from him. His fingers were playing on one of her nipples, coaxing it into an even stiffer peak, and her pulse was pounding at the junction of her thighs. She rocked her hips slightly as she shifted to read the letter again, enjoying the feel of his cock pressed against her pussy. She forced herself to focus on the letter. “I think of your lips grazing over my skin.

“Lips on skin?” He lifted his hand off her breast and began to slowly push up her shirt, seemingly gaining confidence with every moment that passed. He pushed her shirt up around her neck, exposing her bra cups and her belly. He looked down at her in wonder and ran the backs of his fingers over her bare skin, then leaned into kiss the swell of her breast.

She moaned in response. “That feels so good, Hunter. More.”

He licked her flesh, pushing aside the cup of her bra and revealing her aching nipple. “Does he lick her here?”

“I’m sure he does,” Gretchen breathed.

When he leaned close, she arched her back and offered her nipple to him.

He groaned, moving down to take it into his mouth, sucking lightly on her flesh. He ran his tongue over her nipple and whispered, “Tell me what to do—what pleases you.”

“Just keep doing that,” she told him, running her fingers through his hair. She let the letter flutter to the ground, no longer interested in it. Her eyes fluttered closed and she lost herself to the sensation of his mouth on her skin. “God, Hunter, you feel incredible against me.”

“Rip your clothing,” he breathed, and it took her a moment to realize that he was quoting the letter. “Bury my face into your feminine petals.”

His hands were suddenly frantic, tugging at her yoga pants and sliding them down her hips.

She lifted her hips to assist, excited. “Yes. Hunter, yes.”

He tore her pants down her thighs, exposing her flesh. Before she could direct him to do anything, he pushed her thighs apart, stretching the fabric around her knees, and buried his face in her aching flesh.

Gretchen gasped, startled at the sudden move. She’d been thinking she’d have to convince him to touch her, but now that it was all laid out in the open, he’d dove upon her like a starving man.

“Ah, fuck,” Hunter moaned, and she felt his breath on her pussy. His tongue stroked out and licked her lightly, and then he groaned again. “You taste so good.”

Dear sweet heaven, his mouth on her felt incredible. “Yes. Keep touching me.” Her hands moved to his hair, holding him there.

“Tell me how,” he growled, sending shivers through her body.

“My clit,” she breathed. “Put your tongue there.”

He did, and she almost came off the couch. Sensation flared through her body and she dug her fingernails into his scalp, desperate for the pleasure he offered. “More.”

The licks he gave her were rough and untrained, but there was something raw and delicious about his enthusiasm. She’d wanted this—and him—for what seemed like so very long. When he flicked his tongue against her clit and then circled it, she shuddered in response. “Oooh, you’re good at that.”

To her surprise, he stiffened against her. Alarm bells went off in her mind, but before she could encourage him again, he sat up and dragged away from her, breathing hard.

Gretchen opened her eyes, blinking up at him, still throbbing with need. “What’s wrong?”

The look on his face was tortured. His hand moved over the front of his pants, rubbing the length of his cock through the fabric and then jerking away again. “I . . . can’t.”

“You can’t?” She gave him a mock pout. “Please, Hunter. You were so good at that.”

He groaned again, dragging a hand down his face. “It’s not you. It’s just . . . I . . .” He clenched his fists and remained silent.

He what? Wouldn’t last? At the moment, she didn’t care. She just wanted his mouth back on her again, enthusiastically licking away. “You won’t touch me? Don’t you like touching me?”

Hunter gave her such a tortured look that her breath caught in her throat. “Love touching you.”

“Did you feel how wet I was?” she asked him. “I need to come so badly. Won’t you touch me?”

He didn’t move.

It was time for plan B. Her fingers slid to the slick heat of her pussy. “If you won’t finish me, I guess I’ll have to do it myself, won’t I?”

She heard his sucked-in breath. His gaze riveted on her, lustful and full of need all at once. Encouraged, she slid one fingertip in lazy circles around her clit, shivering when it sent a bolt of pleasure through her body. He watched her as if fascinated, and his hand rubbed against the hard length straining at the front of his pants.

“Touch yourself for me,” she breathed, dipping a finger into the wet well of her sex and then spreading the moisture around her clit, wetting it. Faster and faster, she glided her finger in circles around it, biting her lip as she spiraled closer to her climax.

She should have felt awkward lying on a couch with her pants tangled below her knees, legs spread wide as she stroked herself to orgasm. But the gaze of the man sitting across from her on the couch had her riveted. She wanted to do this for him. To show him how much pleasure he’d given her.

“Touch yourself, Hunter. I’m so close.” She slid her other hand between her legs, spreading the lips of her pussy to show him just how wet she was.

She watched with pleasure as he unzipped his pants, shoving them down and then quickly followed them with his underwear, releasing his cock. The head was flushed a deep red with need, slick with pre-cum. He stroked it once, his motions jerky.

She paused in her self-pleasure, fascinated by his hand working his shaft. God, he was beautiful.

“Don’t stop,” Hunter commanded, his voice ragged. “Need . . . to see it.”

“I won’t,” she promised, and began to touch herself again. She watched him stroke and jerk at his cock even as she continued to play with her clit. “I wish it was your mouth on me,” she told him. “Your cock deep inside me.” And she dipped a finger into her sex.

He groaned again, his face contorting. Hot cum jetted out of him, spraying across her belly. The look on his face was so full of exquisite pleasure that she felt her own body pulse with pleasure. Working her fingers faster over her clit, she came a moment later, hard and messy, her eyes tightly shut.

When she opened them a short time later, the room was empty. Hunter had retreated again.

Well, that wasn’t so surprising. Gretchen smiled to herself and touched a finger to the cum he’d left on her skin. She had a feeling that Hunter wouldn’t be avoiding her much anymore.

Things were going rather well, she thought.


Date: 2015-02-03; view: 501


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