And while at first, yes, that was true—in the initial blush of their relationship, sex had been exciting. If Isobel worked and angled herself just right on that big dick of his, she could get friction on her clit. But by the end she’d gotten so pissed that he didn’t even want to try she didn’t bother. Then she’d gone home to be with Dad and with them being long distance… well, apparently Jason had found other places to stick that big dick of his.
“Jesus, sorry, I got carried away there,” Hunter pulled back and leaned his forehead against hers. “We should move this party some place more private.”
He was panting heavily and one of his hands fisted in the bottom of her shirt like he was barely holding himself back from ravaging her again.
Isobel was breathing heavily too. All of this was so reckless. So not like her. But hadn’t that been the point of tonight?
Everything in her life had fallen apart. All the worst case scenarios she could have imagined had actually happened.
Her father had died.
Jason cheated.
Her eating disorder had relapsed.
Her step-mother’s manipulation had driven her to violence.
Isobel had seen the absolute worst in herself.
She spent the first day driving out west wallowing in all of it. But then, somewhere around the Mississippi River, she just started laughing. Because what the fuck did she have to lose at this point?
Nothing. She had nothing to lose. The worst had happened.
And she was still here.
She was free.
Free to start over.
Free to be anyone she wanted to be.
With no past history or future expectations.
She could just be.
That realization made her chest feel so full, so sun-burstingly bright that she felt almost light-headed as she walked into Bubba’s Bar, the only place open in the tiny town of Hawthorne, Wyoming at 9:00 at night on a Wednesday.
And didn’t they say the best way to get over someone was to get under someone else? It hadn’t been her intention heading into the bar, but Hunter was so sweet and handsome and when he’d made his indecent proposition, she’d wanted to drag him out to her car and jump him right there.
“You want to ride with me or take your own car?” Hunter asked, pulling back after another long kiss. It looked like it took effort to yank himself away.
He was such a good-looking guy. He had a square jaw with a few days growth of beard that gave him a rugged, sexy look. His brown hair was thick and curly and he was obviously overdue for a cut. It was the kind of hair that made you want to dig your fingers in. Add to that a strong brow line over blue eyes that were bright with lust. For her.
“I’ll follow.” Isobel felt equally breathless. She was reasonably certain Hunter was an okay guy since everyone in the bar seemed to know him, but she didn’t want to be without her car.
“Okay,” he said. But instead of going to his car, he leaned down and kissed her again. His body pinned her to her car and almost unconsciously, her leg lifted to wrap around his hip.
Which was when she felt just how hard he was. It didn’t scare her, though. With the freedom of her new lease on life still loosening her inhibitions, she let out a desperate breathy moan and rubbed her core against his hardness.
He ground into her several times before swearing and pulling away. His nostrils flared as he looked down at her. With only the light of the lamplight, his brow shadowed his eyes, making him look dark and dangerous. And sexy as fuck when he leaned over and growled in her ear, “I might break a few traffic laws to get to my house because I need that sexy as hell body wrapped around me this second.”
Isobel’s sex clenched at his words but then he was already turning and striding away with purposeful steps.
“I’m parked out front but I’ll pull around so you can follow me,” he called over his shoulder.
She opened her car and slid into the front seat, closing her eyes and pressing her forehead to the steering wheel.
“Holy shit.” She drummed her feet against the floorboard in a spastic little happy dance and then she turned on the engine and watched out for Hunter’s car.
She didn’t have to wait long. It only took a minute before he pulled up beside her in a rugged blue truck that looked like it had seen better days. At the same time, the masculine vehicle perfectly fit the man. She backed up and then headed out down the main street and into the dark roads, always keeping Hunter’s rear truck lights in view.
In spite of his ‘break traffic laws’ comment, he actually kept to the speed limit and drove very responsibly. Which both impressed and annoyed Isobel because the pulsing between her legs only got worse with every passing mile.
It was fifteen minutes before they finally turned into a long gravel drive. Isobel bit her lip, apprehension snaking in when she realized just how remote Hunter’s place was. Any other time, she would have said that following a strange man back to his house in the middle of nowhere was a really stupid idea. But everyone in town knew this guy. And they saw them leave together.
Then again, if he was the town’s darling, he’d be the last one they would suspect of being a serial killer. What if his nice guy act was just how he lured women in? Then if anybody asked, he could just say Isobel had been passing through if she didn’t turn up tomorrow. It’s not like anyone at the horse rescue was actually expecting her. There hadn’t been a way to call ahead since she’d left her phone behind. Plus, the way Rick—the stablemaster where she kept her horse Buttons at their summer house in New Hampshire—had described the rescue, they were always short on help. It was in a remote location and the pay wasn’t much more than room and board. She was planning to apply for the job in person tomorrow.
And hadn’t she just been thinking about how the worst-case scenarios always seemed to happen to her? It would just be her luck if the nice guy from the bar was actually a psychopath with a penchant for chopping up dark-haired girls into little itty-bitty pieces and—
The porch light turned on and she could see Hunter standing by the front door to his house, the door slightly ajar. He was obviously waiting for her, but it was like he could tell she was second guessing her decision in coming out here. And he wasn’t pressing the issue. He just stood there waiting. Letting her choose to come in or back out and drive away.
She took a deep breath. Okay, maybe her paranoid brain was getting a little imaginative.
She grabbed her purse and got out of the car, then walked toward his house.
“Just so you know,” she said when she got closer, “I called a girlfriend and told her your address and to call the cops if I don’t check in with her tomorrow morning.” No need for him to know she was bluffing.
Hunter inclined his head. “That’s good. I want you to be as comfortable as possible.”
He gestured toward the front door and after she passed, his hand came to the small of her back. He followed her into the house. As soon as he closed the door behind them, he nuzzled his nose into the back of her neck where her hair touched her shoulders. Goosebumps immediately shot up and down her arms.
“You have a lovely house,” she barely managed to say, her breath hitching as he slowly pushed her hair away and began dropping light kisses across the base of her neck. He was being so gentle, his lips so achingly soft that they barely made any contact at all.
She wasn’t just saying it about the house, either. It was a large cabin with an open living room and kitchen. The ceiling was tall with a pitched A-line roof and there was a second floor loft where she assumed the bedrooms were. It was a simple but classic space that, like his truck, seemed well-suited to its owner.
Speaking of whom… Hunter withdrew his lips and had moved on to massaging her with those big, glorious hands of his. She sank back against him as he released knots in her shoulders she hadn’t even realized she was carrying around.
“God, that feels amazing,” she groaned.
“I need to touch your skin.
”
A shudder wracked her body at his whisper.
She started moving toward the staircase at the other side of the cabin—they’d come in the back door and the staircase was by the front entryway—but Hunter’s hands on her shoulders stopped her.
“Lift.” He urged her arms over her head. Like he meant to take her shirt off right here in the middle of the brightly lit living room.
She clutched her arms to her sides.
“The bedroom,” she said, trying to move that direction again. Where she would make sure the lights were off.
But he just shook his head and lifted the bottom of her cotton T-shirt. She expected him to jerk it off quickly. His kiss had been so urgent back at the bar by her car.
But he only lifted her shirt slowly, his fingers tracing her stomach inch by treacherous inch as he glided her shirt up. By the time he reached her breasts, her breaths were coming in panting gasps.
Her mind was a mess of conflicting thoughts: did he feel how soft and squishy her stomach was? And: oh God, that felt so good, oh, oh, yes—
“Slowly,” he whispered in her ear from behind. “Slow down your breathing. I want to wring every ounce of pleasure possible from your body tonight.” His thumbs brushed the tips of her nipples through her bra and her breath hitched.
“Ah ah ah,” he chastised. “Deep breath in,” he demonstrated at her back, her shirt still just barely lifted over her breasts. She licked her lips and tried to humor him, though, because his every touch told her that this man knew what he was doing.
She took a deep breath in and tried to shut out all worries about her body. He obviously liked what he was touching if the hardness against her ass was any indication.
That’s only because he hasn’t gotten a good look at you. He’s standing behind you right now. If he saw how ugly and bloated your stomach was from eating that burger, he’d run—
No. She shut down the voice in her head that sounded so much like her stepmother’s. She wasn’t that Isobel anymore. She’d left that Isobel behind in New York.
“Good, and now breathe out.”
Her breath rushed out before he’d finished the words. He instructed her through several more rounds of breathing and then, once she had the hang of it, he ever so slowly pulled her shirt up and over her head.
When he gently lifted her shirt off her arms, she didn’t resist this time. His thumbs caressed up and down her forearms as he drew her arms back down, her shirt falling to the floor. No one had ever paid so much attention to every detail of her body.
“Your skin,” he whispered reverently, his thumb rubbing the inner pulse point on her wrist. “It’s so soft.”
God, he was driving her insane. She couldn’t take it anymore. She turned in his arms so that they were chest to chest. It felt dangerous doing it—he could actually see her now—but she needed to look into his eyes.
She could tell she’d startled him but his quick smile let her know it wasn’t unwelcome. She threw her arms around his neck and drew herself up on tiptoe to kiss him.
Strong arms encircled her waist and he lifted her up even as their mouths met. His tongue tangled with hers. Unlike at the car, though, he delved in only slightly. When the very tip of his tongue connected with the tip of hers, she’d swear it was like a thousand volts of electricity shot straight to her sex.
He must have felt it too because the next thing Isobel knew, he had her slammed against a wall. She felt all of him—his strong arms wrapped around her, his seeking tongue, his hardness pressing into her through his blue jeans.
She moaned into his mouth and lifted first one leg up and around his waist, then the other, until she was all but riding him. He dropped an arm underneath her thigh, hiking her up even further.
She locked her ankles around his back and moved her pelvis back and forth against his hardness. He thrust up and into her as she moved on him.
She broke their kiss and threw her head back because oh God, yes. Right there. Holy shit. She rubbed herself back and forth even more shamelessly.
Hunter’s mouth latched on to her neck, lavishing open mouthed kisses all over. She couldn’t even care if he was giving her a hickie because he was taking her so high, it was so good—
His hands had been holding her under her thighs but as he leaned in to pin her against the wall with his body, his rock hard cock thrusting against the place where she needed it most, he reached and grabbed a handful of her ass.
Oh shit, that was so hot. More. She needed so much more.
To continue reading Hunter: a Snow White Romance, click here
Also by Stasia Black
MARRIAGE RAFFLE SERIES
Theirs to Protect
Theirs to Pleasure
Their Bride
Theirs to Defy
STUD RANCH STANDALONE SERIES
The Virgin and the Beast: a Beauty and the Beast Tale (prequel)
Hunter: a Snow White Romance
The Virgin Next Door: a Ménage Romance
STANDALONES
Daddy’s Sweet Girl: A Dark Stepfamily Romance
Acknowledgments
As always, I thank my gorgeous husband, lover of my heart, body, mind, and soul. I love you more. Haha, it’s here in writing, so it must be true ;)
Thanks to some fabulous beta readers and their stellar feedback: Karina L., as always, you rock! Belinda D., thanks SO much again for your quick read of the series and your encouragement. Lindsay Johnston (sorry for being so evil and taking forever to get this book to you, won’t happen again! Aimee, zomg, what would I have done without your detailed edits? I will never understand why some words are hyphenated and others not, lol, and you are a genius and a God-send (or is it Godsend?)! And Kristin L. J. thank you so much for your edits—your eyes right at the end gave me just what I needed to nudge this to the next level so I knew it was absolutely perfect.
And thank you again, you gorgeous reader, you! Without you literally none of this would be possible. Thanks for taking a chance on a new author :) If you want to continue discovering sexy romantic stories that ride the motherf#@ing edge, I’ve got several more books coming out in the coming year.
About the Author
Stasia grew up in Texas, recently spent a freezing five-year stint in Minnesota, and now is happily planted in sunny California, which she will never, ever leave.
She loves writing, reading, listening to podcasts, and has recently taken up biking after a twenty-year sabbatical (and has the bumps and bruises to prove it). She lives with her own personal cheerleader, aka, her handsome husband, and their teenage son. Wow. Typing that makes her feel old. And writing about herself in the third person makes her feel a little like a nutjob, but ahem! Where were we?
Stasia's drawn to romantic stories that don't take the easy way out. She wants to see beneath people's veneer and poke into their dark places, their twisted motives, and their deepest desires. Basically, she wants to create characters that make readers alternately laugh, cry ugly tears, want to toss their kindles across the room, and then declare they have a new FBB (forever book boyfriend).
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