by Jenna Scott
But after he slides my panties down and pushes my thighs apart, it’s his tongue that I feel on my pussy, licking and stroking until I’m soaking wet and gasping.
“I don’t want to come yet,” I beg. “Get up here so I can ride you.”
When it comes to sex, Hunter isn’t the type who needs instructions twice.
Once he’s beside me on the mattress, I start taking off his shirt, dropping kisses onto his chest as I expose it one button at a time. My tongue trails the line down the center of his abs as I work at his buckle and then unzip his pants. He’s rock hard when I slip my hand around him, biting his lip when I give his cock a pump.
Sliding out of his boxers, he says, “Lie down.” I obey.
He climbs over me, covering my body with his, mouth around my nipple as his hand slips down between my legs. My back arches as he slips a finger inside me, then two, and I squeeze my pussy around them and say, “Come here. I need you.”
I yelp when he sucks my nipple extra hard before trailing kisses back up my chest to reach my neck, where he nibbles at the skin there. “How do you want to do it?”
Caressing the curve of his shoulder, I catch his jaw and tilt his face toward mine. “You’re taking requests now?” I tease.
“I want to know how you like it the most.” He circles my clit with the pad of his thumb, and I moan.
“I like every way you do it.” I kiss his soft, perfect lips, my tongue delving into his mouth. “You always make it good for me.”
“So do you.” He curls his fingers inside me, flicking my G-spot. I can tell the second he does it, a hot spark shooting through me almost like an electric shock that sends a ripple of heat from my cunt to my fingertips.
“Hunter,” I gasp. He does it again. He knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
“I love how you shiver, and how you whimper.” He kisses a path down my body until his head is between my legs. “I love how you pull my hair when I’m down here, and how you say my name when you come.”
“I love…” I begin to say, but then his tongue is inside my pussy, and I lose my words for a moment. “I love the look on your face when you watch me suck your cock,” I finally gasp. “I love when you lose control of yourself and come in my mouth.”
His blue eyes flutter to me, and when he pulls back, I think he’s going to reposition himself so we can 69. But he just strokes a hand up and down my thigh, his gaze searching mine. His humor is gone, and so is the combination of lightheartedness and sexy command that he usually shows when we’re in bed together.
“You okay?” I whisper.
Instead of answering me, he bites my inner thigh gently and then buries his face in my pussy again. Even the way he eats me out is different than usual. It’s still amazing, but it’s slower, less frantic. Like he’s really taking his time and being extra gentle with me. Like he’s…making love to me.
I can’t explain why, but it feels bittersweet. Like we’re getting ready to say goodbye tomorrow even though we still have all summer ahead of us.
My chest tightens painfully, like my heart is literally breaking. I can’t believe I’m going to be without him—without this—next year. That I’m going to have to walk around five days a week without seeing Hunter, or kissing him, or feeling his arms around me. I can’t bear to think about what leaving him is going to be like.
But suddenly, I don’t have to, as Hunter moves his mouth over my clit and his fingers back to my G-spot. The combination of hot, wet suction and those electric sparks has me fighting back the orgasm I can feel building fast and bright inside me.
“Hunter, slow down. I want to put my mouth on you, too,” I moan, and try to sit up, only to have him push me back down. “It’s not fair if it’s just me.”
He pauses long enough to say, “No. You’ll have plenty of time for that later. I’m gonna keep you up all night tonight.” Then he kisses the inside of my thigh and gives me a look that makes me shiver. “I want to fuck you until we both pass out.”
Then he does that trick with his tongue on my clit, and I shudder from head to toe as hot waves of pleasure overtakes me, my moans pitching higher as I come around his fingers. He moves back up to kiss me, but doesn’t take his fingers out, widening me in a way that’s somewhere between lovingly gentle and desperately rough.
I hold his face as we kiss, my hips bucking as he teases me with his dick while my orgasm subsides—just gliding the shaft up and down against my dripping entrance, tantalizing me to hell and back.
“Hunter, please, you’re torturing me,” I moan, trying and failing to slip my pussy around the head of his cock. “Just put it in.”
He palms my breast, kneading it softly as he asks, “Do you want me that badly?”
This fucking asshat, I swear. But it’s okay. I enjoy this back-and-forth, I enjoy his sweet torture, and more than anything, I really enjoy the face he makes when I tell him, “Yes. I want you so bad it feels like I’ll die if you leave me like this.”
“Well, now.” His sinful smile curves his lips. “We can’t have that.”
I feel him finally nudge at my entrance, at just the right angle, and I’m so turned on I tighten in anticipation, then relax, as inch by agonizing inch, he pushes into me.
I thought the way he ate me out was different, but it’s nothing compared to what he does next. Once he’s fully sheathed in me, Hunter goes still, our chests touching as he braces himself on his elbows and kisses me. Slowly, softly, taking his time to taste every corner of my mouth with his tongue.
Wrapping my legs around his hips to get him as deep inside me as possible, I kiss him back. My nails dig into his back, and I tighten up around his dick in a vice-like grip. Hunter grunts, breaking our kiss. “You’re squeezing me so hard,” he whispers, voice hoarse, melting in my ears while his cock melts in my pussy.
“It’s because you feel so good,” I whimper. “I want to feel every inch.”
“You feel good, too.” His lips fall to my neck, the curve of my shoulders, and his hips start rocking back and forth, careful and measured. “So good,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin. “So fucking good.”
All I can do is sigh, my hands on his jaw to bring his mouth back to mine.
We rarely have sex like this, at such a slow pace, with so much eye contact and gentleness. It’s as if it’s the last time, and we want to savor every bit of each other, memorize every inch of each other’s bodies. My chest is bursting, both with love for Hunter and from my heaving breaths. Sweat glistens on his skin.
He rises to his knees, hands under my ass to lift me along with him, and then sits back down cross-legged so that I’m literally sitting on his cock. The angle is almost too deep, and I suck in a breath.
“Is it too much?” he asks.
“No,” I tell him. “I like it.”
“Good.”
Then he moves hard, and fast, holding my hips tight and hitting a point inside me that makes me see flashes of white light behind my eyelids. I feel myself rushing toward the edge again, and I lean back so I can look him in the eye when I orgasm.
“Hunter, I’m coming,” I whisper.
He grunts in reply, his eyes dark, holding mine captive. I bite my lip as I meet him thrust for thrust, his own groans getting louder and faster, both of us fucking each other with everything we have, and then my mouth falls open, gasps spilling out uncontrollably as I clamp around him in another trembling shockwave of pleasure.
“Come with me, please,” I beg, and he lets himself go with a shuddering moan, shooting every last hot drop inside of me before we both collapse onto the sheets, bodies still entwined.
Later that night, we do it again. And again. Until neither of us can keep our eyes open, and we fall asleep in a tangle of exhausted limbs.
Chapter Forty-One
Hunter
It’s been two weeks since school ended, and so far, Milla hasn’t spent the night anywhere but my bed. Inward, I’m counting down the days until she leaves for fucking S
tanford, determined to make the most of every moment we have left together.
But today, she’s out with Isabel, leaving me with nothing to do but wait. My days are pointless without her, though I’ve been trying to hang out more with Harry.
At the moment, though, he’s keeping himself entertained on the Switch, and it’s Breath of the Wild so I can’t sit down and play with him. After checking to make sure Karleigh is home to keep an eye on him, I head out for a drive. Soon, I end up at the mall, and decide to get Milla another gift she won’t be able to complain about.
What books has she been excited about lately? Something by Marie Lu, was it? Wait, no, she was talking about the first book—and how she’s hasn’t finished reading the series. Just to be safe, I buy the whole set in hardcover. I can already imagine her face when she gets home and sees them stacked on the nightstand.
I’m just strolling out of the bookstore when I spot a familiar face. Across the way, Camilla’s mom is sitting on a bench by the water fountain. Staring at the water, she seems relaxed, her hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders, looking somehow totally different than she does when she’s working at our house. For the first time, I realize that she’s beautiful—that Milla’s looks come from her mom in a big way. Of course, I’d never say it out loud to Milla.
For a moment I’m worried Miss Hanson will see me and that I’ll have to either awkwardly say hello or—even more awkwardly—make a run for it, but then a man comes up with an iced coffee and she jumps to her feet, lighting up.
Relieved, I start to turn away, not wanting to witness Camilla’s mom’s personal life, but as she and her companion walk away, I catch sight of his profile. His very distinct profile. One I know better than my own. My stomach drops.
What the fuck is my dad doing at the mall with Camilla’s mom?
Before I can come up with a good explanation, a familiar voice calls, “Hunter!”
Glancing over my shoulder, I spot Hillary approaching me. She’s wearing the kind of short shorts that half her ass cheeks are falling out of, which, more power to her, but I kind of wish she was wearing a bra under her shirt. “You’re a hard man to catch up to, these days. Haven’t seen you at any of our summer parties.”
“Been busy,” I say noncommittally, my eyes scanning the crowd for my dad. There’s no sign of him, though. Nor Camilla’s mom. I wonder if they just bumped into each other here coincidentally. Maybe Miss Hanson is buying Camilla a graduation gift.
“I’ll bet you have,” Hillary says, practically licking her lips as she gives my whole body an appraising once-over. “Looks like you’ve been real busy.”
I can’t handle this right now. What does she even want from me? Does she think I don’t remember what a shit she was to my girlfriend? How she repeatedly talked down to Milla, and threatened to use those rumors from La Jolla High as blackmail?
Really, I want to tell her to fuck off. Instead, I force myself to remain civil, and say, “So what’s up? I’m kind of on my way somewhere.”
She gives me a sickly sweet smile. “Actually, I need to talk to you. I thought we could have a little chat after graduation, but I missed you at the beach house, and someone said you went home early with that maid—”
“You are not starting this conversation off on the right foot,” I interrupt, low-key threatening. “Just say what you want and be done with it.”
She shrugs. “All right. Have it your way.” She pulls out her phone, tapping away with a smirk until I feel a buzz in my pocket. “You might want to check out what I just sent you. For your own good.”
Dubious, I unlock the screen and open her message. It’s a picture, dark and blurry, zoomed to oblivion, but it’s still enough to make out the important details. Milla and Ortega at the dance. Standing close, his hands on her waist. They’re kissing.
“I’m so sorry to have to break the news to you this way,” Hillary says, and I swear she’s gloating. “But you know how girls like that are. Always on the prowl for what they can get from other people.”
I breathe in deeply. Milla already told me about what happened with Ortega, but seeing an actual photo of it is a different story. It makes me instantly jealous, even though I know I shouldn’t be.
Still, it’s in the past. I’m over it. The whole incident’s been forgiven, if not forgotten. And I’m not about to award Hillary the victory she so seems to crave.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” I say, “but Milla and I talked about this. It’s water under the bridge. What exactly are you trying to pull here?”
She blinks in confusion, her smile melting off her face. “What?”
“This.” I point at the picture. “Is nothing. Milla told me everything, because unlike you, she’s honest. And right now it seems you’re trying to come between us with whatever dirt you think you have on her, but I honestly don’t give a shit.”
Her brows go up a bit, and just when I think she’s going to give up, “She’s really got you by the balls, doesn’t she? That gold-digging filth.” She spits out that last word, and I’m done with her, done with this, ready to turn my back when she says, “Did she also tell you how Emmett got her a scholarship so they could go to the same college?”
My body grows cold. Ortega did what?
The surprise must show on my face, because Hillary steps closer.
“She didn’t, did she? Aw, Hunter, baby. It makes me so sad to break your heart. But you deserve to know the truth. She’s been playing you.” She touches my arm, and my skin crawls.
This doesn’t make sense. I offered to pay for Milla’s tuition, and she said no. She isn’t a gold digger. But then why didn’t she tell me about Ortega? What did she do to get his help with the scholarship? Has she been seeing him secretly this whole time?
“She has a history of that, you know,” Hillary goes on. “Using men to get what she wants. Must be a hard habit to break.”
My voice drops low. “What are you talking about?”
She shrugs. “I know someone who goes to La Jolla. You know she had to leave because she was sleeping with a teacher, right?”
I shake my head. The thing with Ortega and the scholarship hurts, not going to lie, but this…this is different. “That was just a sick rumor. People like to talk.”
Hillary gives me a lopsided smile, and it makes me nauseous, but I can’t look away. “If it was ‘just a rumor,’ why’d the guy get fired for sexual misconduct with students? You can look it up. Mr. Harris. William Harris. These are facts.”
My body goes still, and I feel like I got hit with a brick. Milla never mentioned that the guy got fired. All she said was that nothing happened, that he gave her a ride and people misinterpreted the picture of her in his car.
“You’re lying,” I say, but it comes out weakly. I don’t want it to be true. But something about all of this feels inevitable.
“I’m really not,” she coos. “And a teacher wouldn’t get fired over allegations like that unless there was concrete evidence.”
I’m barely listening now. All I can think is, there’s only one reason Milla would hide this part of the story from me. Only one thing that makes sense. The whole thing was true.
She fucked her teacher to get an A.
I didn’t think she had it in her, but her obsession with her GPA, getting into a good college, the pattern of her need to succeed academically, regardless of the cost…
She would’ve done anything to meet those goals.
And if she’d do something that unethical for her grades, it also means she’d do other things to make her life easier. Like dating a rich guy and lying to him until he fell in love with her so deeply that he wouldn’t doubt anything she said.
My rage boils over as my whole world crashes down around me.
I knew Milla was too good to be true, and now everything Hillary is saying adds up. Camilla already admitted to some of it, giving me just enough of the true story to cover for the rumors, but she still kept enough of the details hidden s
o I’d never suspect she was anything but innocent. She snowed me.
God, I’m an idiot. There’s no such thing as love. How did I not see this coming?
“I’m sorry, Hunter.” Hillary sighs, putting her arms around me. “But wouldn’t you rather know what really happened, instead of just letting her string you along? Someday you’ll thank me for this.”
I jerk away in disgust. “You think I’m grateful? That I’ll go lick my wounds and then turn around and run into your arms?” A harsh laughs comes out of me. “If you were that concerned about me, you wouldn’t have held on to this. But you waited. You bided your time. What I’m trying to figure out now is why.”
She blinks. “Honestly, I tried to tell you earlier, but I couldn’t get through to you. She had you wrapped around her little finger—”
“No. You waited so it’d hurt me more,” I spit. “And now you can barely contain your happiness over this. You’re disgusting, Hillary.”
Her jaw drops. “Hunter, you don’t mean that—”
“But I do.” I make myself stare her down, radiating all the pain and anger I’m feeling. “I might be through with Camilla, but I am never,” I accentuate the word harshly to ensure there are no doubts left, “ever going to get together with you.”
“How can you say that? We—”
“We made out once. Get over it.”
I turn around and storm out of the mall. Hillary calls after me, but I don’t give her any more of my time.
Alone in my car, I punch the steering wheel and let out a guttural scream. I sink my fingers into my hair and pull, hoping that pain will make my heart hurt less.
I thought Milla was different. I thought she loved me for me—she talked like she did, and acted like she did. She made me believe that she did.
Turns out she’s a fucking liar, and I let her con me into trusting her. Into thinking it was all real. When all along, she was using me for her own gain.