Page 22 of Hunted

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He didn’t do anything but continue to curl that finger to beckon me.

As if he were tugging a string, I stepped toward him.

The look on his face didn’t change. He didn’t gloat. He didn’t laugh. He just wanted me in front of him.

And so my pussy-led body went where it wanted to go. To him.

His Hunter’s arm moved so quickly, I didn’t even gasp. It was banded about my waist, and I felt every hard inch of him pressing into me. His head lowered and he kissed me.

I wasn’t startled. I knew it was coming. I was no dummy. I was just surprised. Not by being kissed. I was surprised by the kiss.

Holy hell.

Holy. Fucking. Hell.

Soft and gentle, not like I expected. His lips brushed mine, back and forth as if learning the feel of them. When he kissed the corner of my lips, his tongue flicked out. Licked that spot.

I gasped. He plundered. It went from mild to wild in a second. He wasn’t just kissing me, I was kissing him. My hands were tangled in his long hair, the silky strands wrapped around my fingers.

He tasted of mint and man, hot and delectable. I couldn’t get enough.

I wasn’t a virgin. I’d been with a few men. But being in charge of the Academy kept me at a distance from males. I couldn’t have a fling with a cadet. I wouldn’t have a fling with staff. The only time I’d gotten a space one-night-stand in was after an I.C. mission.

It had never felt like this. Never. And this was just a kiss.

My uniform shirt was open in a flash, and I felt the cool air on my skin before I realized he’d actually undone the fastenings.

He lifted his head. Stepped back far enough to look me over. My bra was plain white and simple. No lace. No satin. No peekaboo styling. And yet, the way he was looking at my breasts, it was as if I were in the fanciest, sheerest of lingerie.

“Take the shirt off.” It was a command.

My hands lifted to obey before I considered the bossy request.

It took a second to shrug the durable fabric off my shoulders and down my arms. It fell to the floor behind me.

He stepped toward me. I stepped back. He did it again and I retreated until I bumped into the far wall. His body pressed into mine, and I felt his hard length against my belly. I wasn’t the only one eager to take this to the next level. Our breaths mingled, my nipples bumped his chest with every inhale.

I held still as he undid my pants, pushed them over my hips along with my underwear. His fingers found my center.

I gasped, then moaned.

“Mate,” he growled. Lifting his fingers, I could see my glossy arousal on them and I watched as he licked them clean.

My needy scent filled the air. All noise, all sounds fell away except what was in this empty room and between us.

He spun me about and my hands went to the cool wall to brace myself. Stepping into me, he bent his knees, stroked his pant-covered cock over my pussy and the cleft of my ass.

I had no purchase on the wall, nothing to grip or hold on to. And that prompted me to my control, which I’d left on the floor beside my uniform shirt.

Spinning back around to face him, I said, “I’m a vice admiral of the Coalition fleet.”

His jaw was clenched tight, the muscles in his neck taut. The hand on my hip was firm, but gentle. He would not hurt me.

Slowly, he shook his head. “Here, with me, you’re my mate. Nothing more. You might be in control out there.” He tipped his head to the side, in the direction of the room’s door. “With me, you submit.”

It was my turn to shake my head. “I don’t want that.”

His hand was back between my thighs, sliding over my swollen lips, dipping into my pussy once, which had me going up onto my toes, then away. He painted my essence on my lips. “You do. Taste.”


Tags: Grace Goodwin Interstellar Brides Program Fantasy