Page 26 of A Little Thankful

“Believe me, it’s an absolute conspiracy. One hundred percent,” Hunter said, then he leaned over and gently kissed me.

“That looks like my clue to move on out. I’m sending over our best dessert. On the house. Either of you gluten free or have any food allergies?” Beau asked, grinning.

“None,” we both told him.

“Great. You’re going to love it. Have a great night.”

And he walked off to a table not far from ours and starting chatting up the group of four who also seemed to know him well. That was the nice thing about living in a small town. You knew everyone… and their business.

Of course, depending on your mental state, it could also be the worst thing ever, especially when you’re a kid and looking for your own identity.

“You know I want you to stay,” Hunter whispered.

“Really?”

I didn’t want any of them to feel obligated to say they wanted me to stay. I wanted it to be genuine, or I didn’t want it at all.

But even with that, I had to weigh everything.

I had to admit, if there was a way to make a living here… a way to stand on my own two feet here in Cricket, I would absolutely consider it. Unfortunately, so far, I didn’t see one.

So, unless some kind of opportunity dropped in from the sky, I was driving back to the city on Saturday.

He smirked, and my heart melted. “Do birds fly? Do tigers roar? Do leapfrogs, leap? Yeah, I want you to stay. Even if Autumn’s not mine. It would be an absolute pleasure to have you and Autumn in my life on a daily basis.”

He kissed me again, our tongues touching, and that familiar fire shot through me.

“Let’s get out of here,” Hunter said in a hushed voice. “Come home with me. Spend the night.”

“We have a dessert coming,” I teased, knowing damn well I wanted sex with him more than my next breath.

“You’re my dessert.”

He couldn’t have said it better if I’d scripted those words for him myself.

“Tell the waiter to box it up and bring the check,” I whispered in his ear.

Twenty minutes later we were standing in Hunter’s bedroom, tearing at our clothes, doing our best to shed them without ripping anything. Unfortunately for Hunter, I couldn’t get some of his buttons to open, so he ended up ripping the damn shirt off his body.

My clothes came off much easier. No buttons. All stretch and cotton.

Even my bra slid on over my head, and my panties were merely a thin piece of fabric that he tore off before I could slip out of them.

I fucking loved it.

Passion is a powerful force, and once it consumes you with its heat, almost nothing short of a bomb going off can stop its wicked ambition.

And its ambition was to blow the roof off this tiny apartment on Frog Street, so everyone passing by would know we were fucking, and loving every dirty and sinful moment of it.

Hunter 8

Fucking Sage Pilgrims happened to be even better than I remembered it. Her soft warmth gave me goosebumps, and the way her pussy tasted made my knees weak. If I had her in my bed every night, I wondered if I could actually function during the day. If I wouldn’t crave her every minute.

Crave the taste of her skin, her lips her sweet juices. She did things to me that shouldn’t be allowed, and the funny thing was, she had no idea what havoc she caused. To her this was probably just sex.

To me it was some kind of religious experience, on the dirty, wicked side. There was nothing holy about what I wanted from her, and what she agreed to do for me. There seemed to be nothing that put her off, or gave her a moment of hesitation, instead, when I entered her ass, she welcomed it the same way she did when I entered her tight pussy.

And when I came down her throat, she drank me with a willingness I had never seen in a woman. Like she’d been thirsty, and my cum quenched her thirst. It was amazing to watch.

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