Page 62 of The Bitterroot Inn (Jamison Valley 5)
I did, in and out with a quick puff.
His eyes narrowed. “Take a deep breath this time.”
I obeyed again, filling my lungs so completely my chest rose and brushed against his.
“What’s wrong?” he asked as I exhaled. “Do you want to stop?”
I shook my head. “No. It just, um, hurts at the beginning.”
His eyes softened as his lips dropped to mine. “Not this time.”
Then he kissed me, slow and wet. His tongue worked so smoothly against mine, I closed my eyes and just let him take over. So lost in his kiss, I didn’t have the chance to tense or brace before his cock slid slowly inside, filling me completely. The stretch was still there but it didn’t hurt. It was . . . incredible.
“Fuck, you feel good,” Hunter groaned, breaking apart from my lips to hover above me.
I hummed my agreement and kept my eyes locked with his as he moved. He pulled out his cock, leaving just the tip inside, then pushed back in with a measured stroke. He did it three more times before he did exactly what he’d promised. He fucked me until every one of my muscles was trembling and his name was the only thing on my mind.
My orgasm built fast and right before I came, Hunter’s thrusts got harder. “I’m—” I couldn’t finish my sentence, the buildup was too powerful.
“My name. You say my name, baby.”
He didn’t even need to ask. When my climax broke, I cried out his name as my neck arched into the pillow. Fisting the bedsheet, I rode out my pulsing orgasm as it hit me with wave after wave of heat.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” he grit out as his strokes got even faster.
After the longest and most intense orgasm of my life, I opened my eyes and found Hunter’s, wanting to see what he looked like when he came. When his legs started shaking and the cords in his neck bunched tight, I refused to blink. My hands slid up his arms braced at my sides, dipping into the contours as they traveled, and then into his hair. I pinned it back with a tight fist so it wouldn’t get in the way of my view.
And what a view.
When I tugged his hair, Hunter’s jaw clamped shut and he came with a rich moan from deep within his chest. It was magnificent. Planting himself deep, Hunter collapsed onto my chest. Then he slid his hands under my back and held me tight. My hands untangled from his hair and traced patterns on his back.
Heavens above. Did that just happen? I stared up at my ceiling, replaying everything until it all sank in. Hunter and I had just had totally freaking awesome sex.
How had I gotten so lucky that this man had walked into my motel?
I didn’t have an answer but I was grateful regardless.
With Hunter’s hair free from my grasp, it draped around our faces as we relaxed. The smell was so clean and familiar that I took a few deep breaths trying to place it. It wasn’t the complimentary shampoo and conditioner I left in the rooms. I knew from cleaning that he’d been using those when he was in room eight. No, this was different. It was a smell I remembered from my high-school days.
“Herbal Essences?”
Hunter chuckled and lifted up. “I give you an incredible orgasm and the first thing you ask is my brand of shampoo?”
I smiled. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
He answered with a wink.
Then he kissed me softly and sweetly with light brushes of his lips. Sliding out, he stood to his full naked glory and held out a hand to help me off the bed.
“Come on.” Pulling me behind him with our fingers threaded, we went to my bathroom to shower off the sex and paint. When we were clean, we came back to my bedroom for clothes.
“Do you need to paint or do you want to try and get some sleep?” Hunter asked, pulling on his briefs.
Sleep. Except I couldn’t leave Coby’s room like it was. “I need to paint.”
Standing at my closet with my back to him, I stepped into clean panties and tugged on an old tank top. Then, nervous to face him, I spoke to my hanging clothes. “Don’t, um, feel like you have to stay. It’s late and I’m sure you’re tired. I can handle painting on my own and I’m sure you want to sleep in your own bed.”
I held my breath, waiting for his response. I desperately wanted him to stay, to prove that he wasn’t like the photographer that had screwed me, then run away, but if Hunter wanted to leave, I wouldn’t be upset. It was late, after all.
