Page 45 of Hunter

“Hunter,” I whimper. “Please.”

He clenches his jaw, the rapid movement of his chest betraying his quick, shallow breathing. He grabs my hand and pulls me behind him, away from the lounge, away from the hot tub and its cameras. As we round the deck, away from the horizon, the light is darker purple. It’s quieter too. He finds a small alcove marked “Deck Chairs,” but because half of the chairs are set up on deck right now, there’s a little bit of space for us.

He pushes me against the wall of the small nook, kissing me with abandon as he reaches under my dress and yanks my panties down. As I step out of them, I grapple with his shorts, unzipping the fly and reaching inside for his erect cock.

He’s hard as a rock. I’m slick and ready.

Instead of making him lift me up, I turn around, looking at him over my shoulder.

“Fuck me from behind.”

I pull my skirt up, baring my ass, and place my palms flush against the wall in front of me. I feel his cock, lubricated with precum, seeking entrance to my body, and spread my legs to widen my stance. He squats slightly, lines up, then straightens, sliding inside of me easily and burying himself to the hilt.

Grunting his pleasure against my neck, he grabs my hips for leverage and starts thrusting. There isn’t a steady rhythm toour coupling—it’s fast and frantic. As my cries grow louder, his hand covers my mouth which I find so bossy and erotic, I climax almost immediately, my forehead falling limp against the wall as he follows me to bliss. Through our layers of clothes, I can feel his thunderous heartbeat against my back, his hot panting on the back of my neck.

My tongue darts out to lick his hand, and he uncovers my mouth, sliding his fingers to my jaw, and turning my face so he can kiss me. He is still buried deep inside of me as we kiss, and—God help me—I still want more. More sex, yes, but also more…more…

Tenderness.

I crave his tenderness.

Fuck.

The sex is even better this time around, but I can feel something else growing swiftly inside of me; I’m starting to crave more than just these breathless sexual encounters.

I break off our kiss.

“We should…”

“Yeah,” he says, sliding from my body. A sudden coolness on my back tells me he’s stepped away. I hear him zip up his fly as I reach for my panties. The evidence of our lovemaking drips down my thighs as I pull them on. I smooth my skirt, then turn around and face him.

And he’s…fuck me again, but he’s so beautiful, it hurts my heart to look at him. His eyes are soft with awe and gratitude and wonder. I ache with yearning, my longing for more is almost painful.

“I should go,” I whisper, grateful for the dim light; relieved that he can’t see the tears that are gathering in my eyes.

Still, he seems to sense something’s off with me.

“Hey. Are you okay?” he asks.

He’s trying to get me to look at him, but I won’t. I can’t. If he looks in my eyes he might see—might know—that I’m veering wildly off our agreed-upon course.

“Yep,” I say. “I just…”

I just think I’m developing feelings for you all over again, and there’s no place for them in our three-weeks-of-fun arrangement.

“What?” he asks. “Talk to me, baby.”

“I’m just tired,” I whisper. “Long day.”

“Sure you’re okay?” he asks again. He doesn’t reach for me, but his tone is concerned. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No. I’m fine, Hunter. I promise,” I say, stepping around him, out of our little alcove in the shadows. Over my shoulder, I give him a tiny, forced smile. “See you tomorrow, okay?”

“Of course,” he says, his eyebrows knitted. “See you tomorrow.”

Without looking back, I scurry to the lonely sanctuary of my room.

Chapter 8

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