Page 109 of Reverie
At first, the action stuns me and my breaths seize in my chest.
He pulses his hand around my throat, applying pressure to the sides of my neck, and I’m startled by the rush I feel.
I exhale instinctively, the breaths rasping as the constriction of my throat causes an erotic tingle to shoot down my spine, centering in my clit. My arousal gushes on his dick.
I open my mouth again, but words don’t come out. Hunter searches my face, and I know I can’t show any fear or discomfort. I have to see this through with him.
He needs it. I need it.
I want it.
“I hate myself every day, Winter. I’ve been the happiest ever in my life since meeting you, but you want to know my truth? It’s that I hate myself.”
His words, the dark confession, shake me.
“You want to know the darkest parts of me, Winter?”
I can’t speak, so I suck in air when he pulses his hand around my throat, giving me a slight reprieve. His hand tightens again, more firm this time.
“I’ve killed ninety-seven people, Winter.”
I’d gasp if I could. The number startles me, but I don’t waver.
“Mostly women, some children,” he continues. His pace in my pussy slows a fraction. “I would tell myself that I was being merciful and saving them from a worse fate, but really? I’m a murderer.”
Oh, Hunter.
“I’ve watched hundreds of women get abused—drugged, raped, hunted, strung up and lynched.” His eyes glaze over, lostin the memories. “I saw all of this, and yet I did nothing to save them. I just let it happen. And when I was told to, I ended them.”
Tears crest my eyes, but I don’t dare blink. He’s telling me the darkest parts of himself with eyes open, his gaze locked on mine, but I’m unsure if he actually sees me anymore.
“I’d done every drug known to man before I was fifteen years old,” he says.
I shake my head, an involuntary reflex, and he tightens his grip. Static starts to form at the edge of my vision.
“The day after my mother died,” he says. He bites his lip and surges into me one more time, stilling with our bodies kissing where we’re joined.
“The day after my mother died,” he starts to say again, but his breaths come faster and faster, more erratic.
I bring my hand to his face as it trembles. He’s distracted by the movement, and he loosens his grip on my neck. I suck in a greedy gulp of air.
“The day after, I was raped.”
My fingers flex against his cheek. I’d suspected, but I didn’t know….
“By several men. I was bleeding, begging them to stop, but they just laughed.” He breaks piece by piece, and he shuts his eyes then, but it doesn’t stop his tears from falling.
“My father gave me to them. He said it was my punishment, but it wasn’t the first fucking time, just the worst time.”
When I try to bring his head to mine to kiss him, he flinches.
Batting my hand away, he doubles down on his grip on my neck. Shaking his head, I watch transfixed as another person takes over his body. As the uncomfortable, terrorizing truth spills from his lips, he goes to the defense mechanism that he knows so well.
He hides, emotionally running away.
And even though I’m familiar with how he copes,thisHunter in front of me, inside me now? I don’t know him.
A sharp slap to my flank comes seconds before he takes the same leg and lifts it around his waist. I’m nearly suspended now, pinned between his hard body and the wall. Throughout his confession, he didn’t soften, and now, he’s hard as steel.