Page 115 of Altered

When I woke up this morning, I had prayed for divine intervention to give me the strength to do what needed to be done. To find the courage inside my heart to walk away from what I didn’t want, and chase what I did.

I was back in Hunter's bed, with my clothes scattered across his bedroom floor, and my heart in the palm of his hand.

There would be time for talking later, but right now, all I wanted to do was be with him in every way humanly possible.

He slid his tongue up my slit, causing me to buck wildly. My pulse skyrocketed, my breathing uneven, as I flailed weakly under his devastating onslaught. "Sit on my face."

Shaking my head, I mewled and tried desperately to contain myself. "No…" I moaned, breathless, as I tried to balance myself on trembling knees. It wasn’t an easy thing to do, not when he was drawing jolts of pleasure from my clit. "I'm too heavy."

"You're fucking perfect," he hissed, not missing a beat as he lapped and sucked at my clit. "Sit on my face, baby."

"I can't," I cried, gently kneading myself against his face, wanting to fall into this moment. "I'm too…uh…shy…fuck!"

Growling hungrily, Hunter clamped his hands around my thighs and dragged my body down roughly.

Sagging weakly, I dropped forward, landing heavily on my elbows and cried out as the sensation of his tongue spearing my pussy rippled through me.

Greedily, I grabbed his shaft and pulled on his thick, hard cock, reveling in delight when

Hunter grunted and, lost to his pleasure, deepened his kiss.

Feeling empowered, I leaned forward, dipped my chin and took him in my mouth.

The feel of him in my mouth while he was eating me out was incredibly erotic.

I couldn’t seem to get enough.

This was the man who'd saved my life.

Who'd taken life to protect me.

Fuck, I was so turned on I could hardly stand it.

****

"What's this one for?" I asked, pointing to the dove scored onto his left pectoral in permanent black ink. I'd spent the last thirty or so minutes picking out random tattoos on his body and asking him to explain their meaning.

"The dove?" he asked, looking down at his own chest. "That's for my mom."

"What was she like?"

"Too good a woman to end up with a son like me," he replied without hesitation.

"Hunter, don’t –"

"Relax, HC," he chuckled. "I'm not having a crisis here, I'm just stating the truth." Sighing heavily, he tucked an arm behind his head and said, "When I went down, she came every week. Every fucking week without fail. I knew she was sick. She'd been fighting it for years. The visits slowed during chemo. Dropped to once a month, sometimes six weeks. Then there was nothing…" Pausing, Hunter reached up and scratched his chin before adding, "Nothing but a letter from the warden and a clap on the back." He shook his head and exhaled a heavy sigh. "My mother was dead – the only family I had."

"Hunter…" Feeling helpless, I pressed a kiss to his tattoo and said, "I wish I could have met her."

So I could thank her in person for creating this beautifully broken man.

"She was beautiful," he added. "Best woman I ever knew." He cast a glance down at me and frowned. "She would've loved you, Hope Carter."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "Her wayward son finding a good woman?" He smiled fondly. "Shit, if the cancer hadn't killed her, she would've died and gone to heaven meeting you."

Warmth flooded my belly.

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