This Love (This Boy Book 3)

by Jenna Scott

  “I’ll be fine. Really.”

  “I can’t guarantee I’ll be a gentleman,” he warns, his voice a little strained.

  “Like you were such a gentleman last night?” I meant it as a tease, but there’s a sharp edge to my tone. Despite my extreme horniness, I’m still pissed that he blew me off this morning when I tried to ask him about it. “Why won’t you talk about it?”

  Instead of answering my question, he says, “The thing is… If I get you in my bed, Milla, you’re not even gonna remember last night.”

  He’s not just talking a big game—that’s a promise. And I believe him.

  There’s nothing I can say in response, either. I’m 100% need, hunger, fire. Words fail me.

  The car fills with taut, sexually charged energy the rest of the short drive to Hunter’s apartment. My heart is pounding in my throat the whole time, my knees weak. It’s not that I haven’t had an orgasm since Hunter and I broke up—I can take care of myself, thank you very much—but God, have I craved his intensity. That single-minded purpose he always fucked me with. The way his hot, strong hands felt on my skin, how his lips molded to mine, the strokes of his tongue driving me to sheer madness.

  Judging by the tightness of his grip on my thigh, I’m sure he’s thinking all the same things. Why else would he have taken me out on a date? And then the cherry stem? He knew exactly what he was doing. I send Olivia a quick text to let her know I probably won’t be home tonight, and I get a smiling devil-horns emoji in response.

  It turns out that Hunter’s apartment is in a new construction building on Forest Ave. Each unit has its own balcony and an unobstructed view of the Santa Cruz Mountains—all I see is a tower of glass, metal, and light. Very modern.

  We take the elevator up from the underground parking garage, and step out onto the fifth floor. The hallway has plush new carpeting, potted plants, and real wall art. It still smells like fresh paint, so immaculate that I feel like I’m in a hotel.

  “Wow. This place is—”

  All of a sudden, my back is pressed against the wall, and Hunter’s tongue is in my mouth. It’s vicious, brutal, desperate.

  We’re both breathing hard when he lets go. “I was waiting to do that the whole drive over here.” He takes my hand to lead me down the quiet hallway. “Come on.”

  He unlocks the door to his apartment—5D—and gestures for me to go inside first, closing the door behind me as I walk into the space. The place is big, because of course it is. It’s one of those open floor plans with a kitchen area on one side and a living room on the other. While I kick off my shoes, I take in the large L-shaped couch, the massive flatscreen, and the dark wood coffee table, the bamboo floor covered by one of those Persian-type carpets. The dark curtains hung above the glass doors are pushed open, so I can see out to the balcony outside.

  “I knew you’d be in a bougie-ass apartment,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s nice.”

  He shrugs. “My dad knows a property manager up here. Let’s not talk about it.”

  Taking my hand again, he guides me down a hallway that has two doors opening onto a bathroom and a bedroom. Hunter’s room is a good size but there’s not much to it: bed, nightstand, dresser, and a desk. As I take everything in, he comes up behind me and starts kissing the back my neck, nipping the soft skin at my nape.

  All at once my breath catches, my core tightening, and I lean into the heat of his chest pressing against my back.

  “Hunter.” He stops and I turn around in his arms, my hands coming to rest on his broad chest. “Why are you here? At Stanford, I mean. Why do you keep finding ways to be around me? Why did you kiss me last night?”

  Looking down into my eyes, he says, “Because…I want…you.”

  My stomach flutters. Hunter wants me. He doesn’t love me—or at least, he won’t admit it—but he wants me.

  “I want you too,” I say. And I do. There’s nothing I want more.

  I bring our lips together again, and when Hunter’s hands slip up the back of my shirt, I step back and lift my arms. Hunter tugs my shirt up, and I wiggle a little to help him get it over my head. He tosses the shirt across the room and I stand there in my bra, a shiver running down my spine.

  Then I make the mistake of raising my eyes, and catch him staring at me with naked hunger. My heart breaks into a run.

  Hunter leans in to whisper, “I bet you’re already wet.”

  His words are so dirty, but his voice, low and sensuous, shoots right through me.

  “And I bet you’re thirsty,” I reply.

  That gets a chuckle out of him. As his hands slide around to unsnap my bra, he says, “You used to look away when I said things like that.”

  “That was before you fucked the shame out of me.”

  As if to prove my point, I fling off my bra, tug his shirt over his head, unzip his pants, and shove them down. Before I can grab the waistband of his boxer briefs, he picks me up and throws me onto the bed. I’m breathing hard. This is the Hunter I know.

  I try to hold back my smile as he steps out of his pants and socks and climbs over me on the bed, still in his underwear. I’m aching for him to do what he does best, but I reach for him first and close my teeth over his bottom lip, drawing a grunt out of him. We kiss for a while, I can’t keep track of how long, until both of us are breathing hard and we’re grinding against each other.

  “Hunter,” I moan around a kiss, relishing the sound of his name in my mouth.

  He’s hard as a rock, bruising me through my jeans, and I’m so wet that I can imagine him gliding into me like a hot knife through butter.

  I need him inside me. Now. I reach for his briefs again, but he retreats, moving his hips just out of my grasp. What the hell? He’s driving me crazy, in the best way.

  And then his lips leave mine. He kisses my neck, my collarbone, my chest.

  “Mmm,” I gasp. It’s so good, and my toes curl in anticipation as his kisses trail down to my navel, my hips, making my insides tremble.

  “You were right. I am thirsty,” he says, unbuttoning my jeans and pulling them roughly down, taking my panties with them.

  I’m completely naked on the bedspread now, heart pounding. I spread my legs as Hunter kneels on the floor with his head between my thighs, and then scooch my ass almost to the edge of the bed so he can have full access to my dripping pussy.

  His mouth is hovering above me, but he hasn’t made contact yet—instead, he blows a gentle whisper of air against my slit that makes me squirm and whimper.

  A little desperately, I groan, “What the hell are you waiting for? It’s not going to eat itself.”

  He laughs, a devious glint in his eye. “Fuck, I missed you.”

  Suddenly his hot mouth envelops my clit, and it’s like an electric current shoots through my entire body. He’s sucking, lapping up and down, making little tongue circles. I might just come here and now in his mouth.

  “Yes,” I pant, grabbing the blankets in my fists. “Yes, fuck, yes.”

  I can’t hold back. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and exactly what it takes to get me off. Powerless against him, I’m grinding against his tongue, moaning and whispering his name, and when he slips two thick fingers inside me, I start to climax, totally helpless as the walls of my pussy contract, tight and hard and fast.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper, shuddering with the aftershocks. “Oh my God.”

  Hunter looks up from between my legs, an unbearably cocky smile on his face. “That fast, huh?”

  “What did you expect?” I’m still catching my breath, heaving between words. “It’s been a while.”

  “Yes, it has.”

  He dips his head back down to lick my clit as he pumps his fingers back and forth in my wetness, easing me back open after the orgasm, probably so he can fuck me silly. God, I can’t wait.

  My back arches as he sucks. “I’m ready,” I tell him. “You can stop—”

  “I missed you,” he says again, and my heart gives a squeeze. �
��I missed this.” He bites my inner thigh, making me gasp. “And this.” His tongue gives me a long, slow glide, from the very bottom of my entrance to the top of my clit.

  “Fuck!”

  “And this.” The tip of his nose brushes my clit, so soft it sets my nerve endings on fire.

  “Hunter…”

  “Teasing you. Making you scream. Playing around, even though I could just slide right into you.”

  I feel like I could come again already. He’s driving me right to the edge. My eyes are squeezed shut and I’m just one ragged breath after another, moaning harshly as my whole body tenses up with expectation and intermittent bursts of pleasure.

  He puts his mouth back on my clit, and against the heat of his mouth I feel the wetness drip out of me. I’m aching for him, putty in his hands, but Hunter just shoves his tongue inside me and refuses to give me what I really want.

  I sit up, trying to push him away. “Move. It’s my turn to suck on you.”

  “Is that what you think?” he whispers, amused. Then he puts his mouth on me again, stroking me with the flat of his tongue as his hands slide up to tweak my nipples.

  “Hunter, stop.” With great effort on my part, I manage to wriggle out from under him, slide off the bed, and stand up. “Enough.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. But if I’m gonna come again, I want it to be on your dick.”

  Hunter releases a low groan as he gets to his feet, his hands coming to rest on my hips, his hard-on pushing into my lower belly. “I love how fucking filthy you are today.” His lips cover mine, hard at first, but then softer as he angles us back toward the bed and lays me gently down on it.

  I look up at him and practically drool as I watch him slide off his briefs, freeing that thick, long, perfect cock. There’s no question. I want it. I need it. I have to have it. “Can we please get to the part where I come on your monster dick?”

  “If you really want it that bad…”

  “I want it bad. So bad,” I say, putting a little purr into my voice on purpose. “I want you.”

  I reach down and spread myself open, knowing he won’t be able to resist how pink and wet I am. As expected, his eyes go a little glazed and he lets out a gasp. As he drops onto the bed and climbs over me, my pussy starts aching anew.

  “Hunter,” I whisper, rising up on my elbows to kiss his neck. I reach down and wrap my hand around his cock, squeezing gently as I tug it toward me. We’re chest to chest, and I can feel his heartbeat thrumming as quickly as mine.

  I’m tempted to guide him into me, to let the fucking commence, but I’m still so hungry for him. I haven’t tasted him in months, but it feels like longer.

  I think we’re both a little surprised when I push him off me aggressively and roll him onto his back, moving down his body until I can align my mouth with his dick. There’s no teasing here, no coyness, no slow burn. I open up as wide as I can and lower my face, letting his cock slide into the back of my throat. Then I close my lips and suck.

  Hunter chokes out a breath. “Fuck, Milla.”

  His hands are wrapping around my head, holding me in place as he starts pumping back and forth in my mouth. I let him fuck my face, moaning, trying to relax my throat as he spears into it. I don’t care that it hurts, or that there’s saliva and precum leaking out of my mouth, down my chin, going everywhere.

  “Mm-hmm,” I hum, bobbing my head in time with his thrusts.

  “Milla,” Hunter groans again, hips bucking. “You won’t be coming on my dick if you keep that up.”

  I ignore him, sliding my hands up his thighs until I have one thumb stroking his balls and the other thumb pressed against his asshole.

  “Mmm…”

  “Fuck,” he gasps.

  Growling my name, Hunter pulls away, pushing me onto my back and lifting one of my ankles onto his shoulder. The head of his dick throbs against my entrance, hot and hard and ready, but when I try to shift my hips to let him in, he stops me.

  “You still on birth control, or should I get a condom?”

  “I’m still on it, but…” I hate asking, afraid of the answer I might get, but the no-condom rule is out the window if he’s had sex with other girls over the summer. “Have you been with anyone else? Since we…”

  Looking me in the eye, he shakes his head. “No. I swear it.”

  Relief floods through me. “Then don’t hold back,” I whisper.

  His tip parts me, and that’s all the warning I get before he slams deep inside all at once. So deep and tight and true.

  “Hunter…” My head tilts back as I moan his name, arching my back.

  “God, you feel good.” He’s stroking into me now, and I can tell he’s trying to hold back, but that won’t last for long. “You feel too good.”

  “You feel too good,” I respond, closing my eyes to savor the feeling of him.

  “It’s like I told you. We’re perfect together.”

  I remember him saying that back when we were dating, and I can’t disagree. He fills me so completely, every pump of his cock sending hot bursts of pleasure through my body. It’s like his dick was made for me. I’ve always thought so.

  “Fuck me,” I whisper, as if he needs any encouragement to keep up the good work. “Yes, yes, yes.”

  He picks up the pace and we find a rhythm, both of us breathless and groaning, and I’m just gone. There’s only Hunter, the way he touches me, the way he moves inside me. I meet every one of his movements like we’re locked in a dance we’ve long memorized, one of my hands squeezing my breasts together as they bounce. And God, he knows exactly how to slip in and out of me, driving me to absolute insanity.

  I can tell it’s the same for him. I see it in the face he makes when I tighten up around his shaft, the way he looks like he’s on the verge of losing control, his teeth digging into his bottom lip, the way his eyes never leave me.

  The pleasure builds inside me, uncontrollably, so intense it borders on painful.

  “I’m gonna come inside you,” he says, dropping my leg back onto the bed and shifting so he’s right on top of me. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him as close to me as I can, my arms going around his neck.

  “Fuck me, Hunter,” I whisper into his ear. “You fuck me so good.”

  His movements get more erratic and jerky, his cock pushing impossibly deep as he starts to lose control, gasping my name. “God, Milla. I’m so close.”

  “Hunter—”

  “Milla—”

  At the desperate sound of my name on his lips, I’m undone. Every sensation that’s been mounting suddenly erupts like fireworks. I’m coming so hard I see sparks across my vision, moaning against Hunter’s neck as my insides throb and tighten, and with another thrust of his hips, I feel him spill hot inside me with a groan.

  We cling to each other, kissing as we ride out the shockwaves together, and it’s everything I wanted—every bit as intimate as it’s ever been.

  I wait for Hunter to pull out, but suddenly he starts moving again. Far too sensitive, I let out a surprised yelp—usually, it takes him longer to get hard again.

  “God, Hunter, seriously?”

  “What?” He tucks my hair behind my ear, then slips his hand down to roll my nipple between his fingers, making me arch my back. “You didn’t think one round would be enough, did you?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Camilla

  Round two lasts a while and feels downright leisurely, both of us taking longer to come after exhausting ourselves the first time. Now we’re snuggled up in Hunter’s bed. He’s on his back with his arm around me, trailing his fingers softly up and down my bicep, while I’m on my side, pressed against him with my head resting on his chest.

  This feels nice. Warm. Familiar. Like home. I don’t want to lose it again.

  But at the same time, I can’t ignore the rift between us. The shit Hunter said to me when we broke up echoes in my mind—about me fucking a teacher for a grade, fucking Emmett for the S
tanford scholarship, and all the while flat out refusing to listen to my explanations. It’s shit he still hasn’t directly apologized for.

  “Do you still believe I screwed a teacher for grades?” I ask. “That I slept with Emmett to get the Stanford scholarship? That I was cheating on you?”

  Hunter’s chest, rising and falling steadily until then, stops moving. “No,” he says. “I’m sorry I said that. I wish I hadn’t.”

  His apology lifts a huge weight off my shoulders, but at the same time I’m still upset about how we broke up. “You talked to me like I was trash. Like you believed the worst about me.” My voice wobbles.

  “I’m sorry,” he says again, tightening his hold around me. “You’re not trash, Milla. You’re honestly the best person I know. I mean, besides my little brother.”

  That gets a smile out of me.

  “Hillary got inside my head with the Mr. Harris stuff and when she showed me that picture of you with Emmett—I just lost it,” Hunter admits. “She was telling me all this stuff I didn’t know anything about, and I assumed it was because the worst had to be true. That you were lying to me all along.”

  “I wasn’t,” I say. “But yeah, I did keep some secrets. You wanna know why?”

  He looks over at me in the semi-darkness. “Do you want to tell me?”

  I take a deep breath and nod.

  “Okay. So go,” he says.

  “Wait. I just…before I start, you should know that the reason I kept it from you is because all this stuff that happened…it makes me sick to remember.”

  Hunter shifts and I can feel his body tensing up next to me. “Like sick to your stomach?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t have to talk about it,” he says, stroking my arm again.

  “I really, really want to though. No more secrets. I want to tell you all of it. The true story.”

  “Okay.” His voice is gentle.

  I lay my hand flat on his chest, feeling the reassuring pump of his heart, trying to draw strength from him as my nerves hit.