Page 20 of Stolen By the Alpha Hunter (Moonbound Mates #3)

I stay prone as he moves between my legs, spreading them like a lover.

The t-shirt drapes over my pussy, hiding me from him—much to my relief, because I’m already wet.

He bends and places his hands on my hips, holding me still.

His breath puffs out against my skin, and then I feel a strange sensation.

Not the bite.

His tongue.

“ Oh ,” I sigh, a short gasp escaping my lips. He feels so good between my legs, his lips on my skin. It’s like this is where he’s supposed to be.

“I’m going to count down from three and then I’ll bite,” he says, and his tongue is still grazing the spot, driving me crazy. “Are you read?”

I jerk my head. “Do it,” I say.

“Three…”

I shift slightly, his hands fitting my hips perfectly.

“Two…”

I inhale and hold it.

“One.”

His lips clamp over my flesh and his teeth sink in—sharp, perfect, precise. Pain flares for a single, breathless second.

And then?—

His tongue.

A slow lick over the bite, hot and wet and soothing, drawing the sting into something else entirely. My back arches off the mattress with a cry I don’t mean to make, my hips jerking toward him, desperate for friction—anything—because the pleasure that ripples through me is too much. Too fast.

“Steady,” Javi murmurs, his voice rough like gravel, voice cracking with restraint.

“I—Javi—” My voice breaks. I can’t breathe. I can’t stop shaking.

His tongue flicks over the bite again, slower this time, and my thighs clamp around his shoulders without permission. My body is drenched with heat, slick soaking through me, and my shirt—his shirt—has ridden up around my waist.

He freezes.

His breath hitches against my thigh. His tongue stills.

And then he sees me—truly sees me.

His green eyes lock with mine, heavy with something dark and dangerous and holy.

A kiss lands just above the bite. Then another. And another—each one closer to where I need him.

I nod.

That’s all it takes.

His hands slide beneath my hips and lift me like I weigh nothing, cradling me closer to his face—and then his mouth covers me.

“Oh—” I gasp, the sound punched straight out of my lungs.

He moans.

God help me, he groans into my pussy like he’s starving, like this is the first real meal he’s ever had and he’s ready to worship every inch of me with his tongue.

And he does.

He devours me.

His mouth is hot, wet, unrelenting—tongue stroking through my folds, circling my clit, then sliding deep inside me to taste the slick pooling there. His arms wrap under my thighs to hold me open, to keep me right where he wants me, and he doesn’t stop. Doesn’t pause.

My climax crashes into me without warning.

I cry out, nails digging into his scalp, thighs squeezing his head as I fall apart—and he groans again, lapping up every ounce of it, like he’s addicted to the taste of my surrender.

I don’t even have time to catch my breath before the next one builds—fast and desperate. His lips close around my clit and suck, tongue flicking until I’m shaking, sobbing, babbling nonsense.

“Javi—please—oh, God?—”

He growls.

The sound vibrates through me, rumbling against the most sensitive part of me, and I shatter all over again.

It’s too much. It’s not enough. I want to crawl inside his mouth and live there forever.

And then—he stops.

“Fuck!”

He tears himself away like he’s breaking chains, stumbling back from the bed, his hands yanking at his own hair as he breathes hard and fast like a man barely holding onto control.

I lie there dazed, dizzy, ruined.

Every part of me is still throbbing. Tingling. My thighs are slick and shaking, my nipples tight under the stretched fabric of his shirt. My chest rises and falls with short, frantic breaths, my heart pounding so loud I can barely think.

I push myself up on trembling arms, dazed and aching and humiliated by the depth of my own wanting.

“What’s wrong?” I whisper, already knowing the answer.

He turns on me like I slapped him—eyes molten green, wild and hot, too much and not enough.

“You are what’s wrong,” he snaps.

The words cut deep. I flinch.

Then I recover—and my spine stiffens.

Fine.

If that’s how he wants to play it.

My hands come up to cover myself, clumsy with the aftermath of pleasure and the ache he left behind. I shove the shirt down over my thighs like it can protect me from the way he looks at me—like I’m temptation and trouble, like I’m the thing he wants and can’t allow himself to have.

And now I’m angry.

Furious, even. Not just because he stopped, not just because I wanted more—but because every time I reach for him, he jerks away like I’ve burned him. Because he keeps acting like he’s saving me from himself, and all he’s doing is wounding me deeper.

“How dare you,” I whisper, voice shaking with fury.

His features shift, his mouth parting like he didn’t expect that. “Peach?—”

“No,” I snap. “You don’t get to say my name like that. You kidnapped me. You changed your mind and claimed me. You told me you cared—acted like you wanted to protect me—and then when I let you in, when I gave you something real —you make me feel like I’m disgusting.”

I can’t stop now. The words come like a flood.

“I wanted you. I still want you, and that’s the worst part. I don’t even know why—but I let you touch me, I let you mark me, and I liked it , and now you’re acting like that’s some horrible mistake.”

Tears spill down my cheeks. I don’t even bother wiping them away.

“I need my mate, Javi,” I say, choking on the knot in my throat. “I need you. And you’re the one who keeps pushing me away.”

He takes a slow step toward me.

Then another.

Then—he drops to his knees beside the bed.

The change is so sudden it knocks the wind out of me.

He gathers my calf in his hands and presses a kiss to my knee so gently, so reverently, that it makes my breath catch—and my face flame.

“I’m sorry, Peach,” he says softly. “How could I possibly say you’re what’s wrong, when you’re the only thing I’ve ever done that was right?”

It’s too much. It hits like a blow to the chest. I hiccup a sob as I cover my mouth, heart cracking wide open.

“You don’t get to say something nice now and take it back,” I whisper, because I don’t trust this. I don’t trust him.

I don’t trust myself.

“I don’t want to take it back,” he says. “I’m not…I don’t know how to do this. How to be kind, how to be good. You make me want to be good.”

Tears run down my cheeks. “It’s not my responsibility to make you good!”

“I know,” he groans. “That’s not what I’m trying to say. But I have to tell you—I’ve been pushing you away because I thought you didn’t want this, and that I…”

He stops, resting his cheek against my knee and closing his eyes. He inhales deeply, my scent doing something to him. His features smooth out, finding some internal peace as he draws me close.

“I’m angry at the world for pairing someone as sweet as you with a man like me,” he says. “I want a better life for you…but I can’t fucking resist you.”

I hold my breath, waiting for him to say what we both know is true.

I’ve known it since the wolfsbane wore off, maybe—dreaming about him that first night here, taking pleasure in his bite, feeling a deep, lasting comfort when we’re skin to skin.

I’ve been wearing this t-shirt for a whole day and I never want to take it off because it has his scent on it.

“This isn’t all an act. You’re my real mate, Peach,” he says. “And it makes this whole situation more dangerous.”