Page 31 of One More Time

I scoffed.

Don’t stick your ass where we eat. Have fun.

CAL: Got it, sex stays in my room. I’ll tell you all about it at brunch! Text me when you are on your way, I’ll make sure all the dicks are away.

I laugh again, looking up to see the girls staring at me, “Cal’s taking Eric to our dorm.”

“Well, go get comfy in Hunter’s room. He chills with the guys for a while before he makes his way up.”

The door opened, and as if we’d said his name too many times, Mr. Boston himself entered the room. He took in his surroundings before his eyes finally landed on me. “Didn’t know your voyeurism extended to lesbians, baby.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Cal called dibs to the dorm for a bit,” Kins offered. “I invited him up here.” Did I mention I liked her? I could understand why Hunter was so loyal. Though I had a feeling he was going to have to say goodbye to their sexual rendezvous—Kelsey didn’t give off the I share my girl vibes.

“Am I a good wingman or what?” Hunter smiled broadly. I looked away, my obvious defense mechanism against his disarming attractive looks.

“You did well. Now stop stroking your ego, we’re trying to watch TV.” Kins’s tone was clipped, but I had the feeling she was up to something. I watched as Hunter took the hint, heading in the direction of his room before looking over his shoulder. “Feel like watching a hockey game?” Hockey was mutual ground between us, one I was kind of thankful for. The mischievous sparkle was gone from his eye, replaced by something soft and sincere. I nodded but paused to grab the bottle of whiskey and an extra glass for Hunter.

We watched as Boston fought against Florida, bonding over our mutual swearing at the opposing team.

“That was a fucking hold!” we yelled at the same time.

“Seriously, ref! Are you getting paid to miss their penalties?!”

“Remind me again why I like this sport?” I laughed, though with my recent worries, it was something of a non-rhetorical question. Hunter looked at me, brow quirked as if he was surprised by the question.

“Because your good at it. The moment you’re in the rink you can’t think of a reason why you don’t love it? Bruises, sore muscles, and all.”

And that had been pretty much it. It had been the one place I didn’t seem to question myself. It was just me, my team, and the goal of getting that puck in the net. Perhaps it had been a caveman way of thinking, but in the craziness of life, sometimes it had been good to just hit something or check someone as hard as you could.

Hunter grumbled. “Wow, you didn’t even preen at the fact I said you were good. Seriously, do you have any flaws? Please say you do, because you don’t have a massive ego, you don’t have a temper, and you always put others before yourself. Like seriously, there has to be something wrong with you.’”

I looked at him and his blazing amber eyes stripped me bare, as if my fatal flaw would be written somewhere on my body. I huffed a laugh. “You’re just blind. I have many flaws. I’m a control freak, a perfectionist on so many accounts. Sometimes I wonder if there will be a day when I completely crack. I’m a chronic people-pleaser, even if I hate the person. You seem to be the exception to the rule and I’m not too sure how I feel about that.”

The words rattled off my tongue, and I bit down on it in an attempt to stop any further ramblings. Hunter looked me over as if he could sense the tension in my jaw, and could taste the copper on my tongue as I sank my teeth in even more. The low glow of the TV made his eyes shine bright. My gaze traveled to how he bit his bottom lip, fuller than the top. I knew the taste of that bottom lip, knew how it felt sweeping over my own. My body reacted, heat prickling under my collar. I just hoped he blamed the alcohol. The heat in his eyes had me wanting it—wanting him—all over again. I was a man starved. Social construct dictated that I should push the bowl away when all I wanted to do was lick it clean.

Hunter leaned in. He was always so much braver, so much more daring. His lips ghosted mine, as if waiting for me to close the gap. His own honey—tinged breath mixed with mine, his head tilted so his nose just lightly grazed my own. “Those don’t sound like flaws, baby. They sound like walls. Walls are there to protect, to keep you safe.”

My eyes flicked up to his, those golden slivers shaded by thick lashes that were too beautiful to belong to this man. My heart couldn’t take it. My heartbeat stuttered, only pounding when the heat of his lips grazed mine. I lunged. My lips collided with his, his groan sounded akin to relief.

Hunter pulled me to straddle his lap, the hard outlines of our erections meeting as he allowed me to take control. Control was one thing I didn’t have when it came to Hunter Graves. My body was in charge, my mind was lost in a cloud of lust.

I took his face in my hands, pouring every ounce of my pent-up frustration into that kiss. His hands dug into my hips, guiding me to rock against his thick length.

“Fuck, baby.”

His cries only fueled me. My hands moved, pressing heavily against his chest. The need to feel every crevice of his hard curves consumed me. I’d noticed them during workouts. I spent an extensive amount of time studying the hard lines I wanted to map out with my tongue. I found the hem of his shirt, working my hands underneath and guiding it up and over his head.

Hunter watched, eyes dark and heavy with lust. I only spared a moment to bite his bottom lip before I worked my way back down, doing exactly what I’d fantasized about. His smell, his taste had me high. His hands tightened on my hips as if he didn’t want me to go too far. Though as I bridged his pants, he let me move. I nipped at the trail that led right to what I wanted, dipping lower… lower… lower….

“Ty… Tyler, fuck, fuck, fuck! What are you doing to me?”

I tugged his pants and boxers down with a little less finesse than I cared for, biting the inside of his thighs and then soothing the sting with my tongue. Hunter’s whimper was music to my ears. That was my name on his lips, giving me the power to take him. I was inexperienced, but I hope I made up for it with my pure need for him. I licked a stripe up the underside of his cock and I couldn’t tell you who’s groan was louder. His salty taste hit my tongue, mixing with sweat and musk and… Hunter. It was too fucking good.

“Ty, God.”

I chuckled, taking him in my mouth, alternating licking and sucking as I took him down inch by inch. I wanted more—I wanted to choke on him. But when he hit the back of my throat and triggered my gag reflex, he pulled me back by my hair “Take it easy, baby. You’re doing great.”

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