by C.M. Kars
Hunter’s eyes are wild, and his fingers keep digging into my hips, only to let go when he thinks he’s being too rough. God, to be wanted like this, with this need, it does things to me – makes me feel beautiful and sexy. And all I had to do was do what I wanted anyway.
“Go slow, okay?”
“I promise. I promise.” The litany falls from his lips and I kiss him, let him roll me to my back as his weight settles on top of me. “Can we lose this?” One hand goes to the hem of the shirt, the only material separating us.
“Yeah.” Lifting my back, Hunter almost tears it off me. When that’s done, his mouth goes to my neck, licking, tasting and sucking that I feel inside me with every sweep of his tongue.
“Hunter mou...” I groan in his ear. I gasp when he lowers his head and nips at my collar bones. And there, finally, his fingers linger on my nipples, lightly pinching them into even harder points, and making me throb even more.
He sucks my nipple into his hot mouth, swirling his tongue, making me ache. I’m blindly staring up at the ceiling, feeling like my body is being warred upon by nothing but pleasure. He almost purrs when the fingers of his free hand get to my opening, slick with my need for him. Then his fingers push inside me, slowly stretching me, rubbing spots inside me that make stars explode behind my now closed eyelids.
It’s all just so good, too good.
“Please, Hunter.”
“I shouldn’t’ve let you touch me. Shit.”
I’m rubbing myself against his body, loving the feel of his weight over me. He’s everywhere and I love it. It feels all too soon that he’s spreading my thighs open with his knees. I look down to see his cock jutting proud, pointing at me, slick at the tip. My hips are arching, silently seeking him. I don’t even know where he got the condom from, but it’s in his mouth as he tears it open with his teeth.
My hands move over my body, touching my sensitized flesh, the only thing that calms the fever-pitch heat of my skin, the tingling that has my body shaking. “Please, please, please...”
My hands go to his forearms, and I feel a coolness against my inner thigh and I know that this is the moment. And I couldn’t be giving my virginity to a better person.
“I’m gonna go slow,” he rumbles, voice low enough that it feels like a caress between my legs.
I bite my lip, but moan anyway.And then it comes – the head of his cock slowly pushing into me, stretching, burning me on the inside. I hiss out a breath and watch with mute fascination as beads of sweat pop on Hunter’s forehead.
My hands go to either side of his ribs as I watch him slowly sink into me. He goes so slowly, letting me get accustomed to his body. Stretching me, filling me, until finally, finally I have all of him.
“Are...” Hunter pants on top of me. His hips settle against the softness of my inner thighs, my knees coming up to his waist, my hands holding onto his biceps.
“You...okay?” He groans, shoving his face in my neck, licking up the side of it.
He broke a part of me I thought I would never give away. I feel my body get used to him, and reluctantly, I squeeze my inner muscles on him, feel his teeth sink into my neck like he’s a lion and he’s reprimanding me. More wetness flows out of me, making him settle easier inside of me.
“I want more,” I tell him. “Please, I need more.”
Hunter pulls out of me, igniting nerve endings with every pull, only to thrust back into me, making the same nerve endings spark to life. He goes to his forearms on either side of my head, his pace increasing, gliding inside of me, deeper, harder each time.
“Baby, you’re so fucking good...” he groans in my ear, rocking harder into me, making me run to the edge of oblivion. With every in-stroke, his cock kisses my clit, sending wildfire through my veins, licking up my spine, making my whole body crackle with energy.
I whimper with every deep thrust, I moan every time he goes harder into me. He gives me wings to fly with, all while keeping me safe in his arms with every stroke.
“Baby, please, you need to come for me.”
I feel it coming, a thunderstorm of sensation radiating outwards from my sex. I hold onto him tighter, lifting my hips higher, getting him even deeper inside of me. I spread my thighs wider, searching, searching for that final push into bliss.
“Hunter, Hunter, Hunter,” his name falls from my lips as I moan it in his ear, whimpering as he moves even faster. Every muscle I have locks down on him, everywhere I touch as the pleasure consumes me, rips me apart and reforms me just in time for Hunter to come inside me, pumping two, three more times. Searching for my mouth, he kisses me deep as he pumps three more times, each one slower than the last, ringing out every last bit of the aftershocks I have from my tender flesh.
His kiss is different now, sweet and apologetic. I don’t know why, I loved ever fraking second of it. He sips at my lips with his own, slowly gliding his tongue into my mouth, letting us lick at each other like we have all the time in the world.
My hands go into his hair, nails lightly scraping his scalp. I want to tell him without words how I feel – how much he’s changed me, how much I love him. I pour all that feeling into my kiss, wishing that he could understand what I mean, how important he is to me, how important Matty is to me, and how very grateful I am that I can have him in my life.
For a few moments, it feels like he understands. It’s exactly what I feel in his kiss, too.
Hunter manages to wake me up twice more during the night, stoking this new hunger inside me, and the only way I can sate it is to indulge in his body. I never thought I would be like this – that I would want to touch him and taste him, learn what he likes, what he doesn’t, that now that I’ve had it, I want more and more and more.
I find myself letting him do things to me I never thought I would be capable of. Does this mean I’m a slut? A whore? A slore? Does it even matter?
I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on sex for this long.
Hunter is patient with me, he never pushes me past my comfort zone, and if he does, it’s because I want to go there, not the other way around.
Oh my God, I have a lover. I can’t even deal with this tidbit of information. My body is on fire again, simmering with a need that only Hunter can quench. My legs scissor in the sheets, making the noise where flesh scrapes a low thread-count. Fluttering strokes of longing scrape my lower belly, and I’m getting wet for him, ready for him one more time.
Hunter can’t be oblivious to what’s happening here. The way he massages me, his big hands kneading muscles in my legs and arms that I apparently have knots in slowly starts to burn away my exhaustion.
“I need you again.” Four words from his lips that slam into me, as if he’s been stroking my inner walls and I’m milliseconds away from coming.
“I want to try it with you behind me,” I say, and I feel Hunter’s hands still on my shoulders, digging into the muscles deep enough that I moan. Well, I didn’t even know that was going to come out of my mouth, so surprise, surprise.
I feel him move from behind me to lie down next to me. In the dim lighting of his bedroom, he smiles at me, teeth and hunger and enough hotness that my body’s ready to melt into a puddle.
“Who knew my nerdy girl would want to try to get a little dirty?”
Unfff his words… they make me tremble with need.
Lying on my stomach, looking at him with burning cheeks, his eyes are beautiful orbs of blue filled with mischief and dark intent.
“You can stop blushing, Sera. Knowing what you want is unbelievably sexy to me.”
I shove my face in the pillow. “It doesn’t sound like I don’t know what I’m doing?” My voice comes out muffled enough that I’m not even sure he’s heard me.
A warm hand comes to settle at my lower back, spanning the width of me and a part of my ass. “No one has ever given me this, the chance to be their first.” I look up to see him grinning, and he tucks some hair behind my ear as he gets up on an elbow. “You ready to get on your kne
es, baby?”
I lick my suddenly dry lips, try to swallow as need grips me and claws my skin, letting the wild part of me out. I always thought I was a rational person, always putting my needs second to that of others, family and friends. Hunter is forcing me to make them first, and that scares me a little, but I’ve never felt like I could soar before.
“I think I want to see your tattoos first. The last two times have kind of been fast and furious.” It’s not like he’s going to say no. Logically, I know this. But I still feel like I should ask anyway, like he will say no. He doesn’t. I don’t think he ever will.
“Was that okay?” Hunter asks, worry tainting his features, as he uses the hand that was partially on my ass to haul me closer to his body around my waist. I blush like every ounce of my blood has suddenly decided to give up on my insides and move to my cheeks instead when his eyes dip to my chest.
I really love that he asks me.
“It was fraking amazing with a side of win. You made my first and second time deliciously good.” I want to soothe him, remove that worry and uncertainty from his face before they turn into something uglier – like hate. I’ve learned it doesn’t take much for him to think that whatever bad comes into his life, is because of his illness. I hope I can change that.
I watch him puff up his chest and barely check the need to beat it like a gorilla. “But I still want to see your tattoos. I wasn’t paying attention before, you know, before.” I can’t even say it, and my stupid cheeks are still bloody red, and I’m twenty-five years old and I can’t talk dirty for the life of me.
Hunt places a kiss on the palm that I’ve put on his shoulder to keep him still as he moves to roll onto his stomach. I caught a glimpse of a giant back piece that I’ve never really seen and I’m dying to trace the edges with my tongue.
“Stay right there,” I order, moving from my side of the bed to straddle the curve in his lower back, putting us flesh to flesh. Even his ass is perfect, taut and muscular and with some of my claw marks from my nails. A raging slut-bag has taken over my body. Sorry, not sorry.
I settle myself more comfortably, and wait for Hunter to finish crossing his arms under his head. His whole body’s strung tight, and now I know why.
“Did you draw this piece for your back?” I know he did. I recognize his work, the bold strokes of pencil or pen he uses to make a devastating picture that captures life in a few moments. I’ve seen him do it with my face, or the sketches of Tony Stark he drew for Matty. But never this, this rendition of what he thinks would look like an angel.
“Yeah.” Hunter’s voice doesn’t ask for questions, like the subject is closed.
“Fraking shit, Hunt, what did you go and do?” I squeak, my eyes going from all three focal points of the tat, knowing what I’m seeing, but my brain refuses to see it that way. I’m denying how much getting diabetes ruined his life, or how much he thinks it did and still does.
The artwork is stunning, and so realistic I can feel the sorrow of the grounded angel spearing my heart. I cover my mouth in case I let out a sound. The angel is naked, on his knees, hands covering his face, shoulders hunched forward in a sob. Right before him, spanning from Hunter’s ribs down to his lower back are beautiful fluffy wings, ravaged at the joints where they would have gone in the angel’s shoulders. What’s worse, the simplicity of the colorless tattoo is made even more hateful when bright red blood trails in small rivers from the angel’s back to his lost wings in front of him. I trail my fingers over the artwork, lingering over the angel’s covered face.
I want to dig my nails into Hunter’s skin and rip off the picture with my bare hands. The need is so great, my hands turn into claws, and I sort of wish I had talons to rip it off. He shouldn’t have this on his back, and it’s even worse that he drew it himself, branding his own skin with his sorrow.
“Fucking shit, you got this when you found out, didn’t you?”
Hunter doesn’t even have to answer me, I already know. “Getting sick was one of the worst things that ever happened to me. Jules dying was the second and becoming a Dad under those shitty circumstances. The third was almost losing you.”
I want to tell him that losing me is so not as devastating as learning that your sick. I’m uncomfortable with it, and end up fidgeting on top of him, like I’m trying to shake his words off. All through that, I keep petting the image on his back, trying to erase it with the soft strokes of my hands.
I want to tell him I’m not strong enough to look at this amazing art and not feel lost and sad whenever I look at it. It’s not pity, it’s such a deep understanding of what he’s going through because I’ve done it to myself – I just haven’t marked it on my skin as a constant reminder. And that’s what he’s done – reminding himself every single day that there are limitations to what he can do.
My sadness swings over to anger, then back to sadness until I finally settle on feeling a little helpless.
“I knew from that moment I could never be myself ever again. I knew that no matter what I tried to do, there’d always be a limit where my sugars fucked with me and my body couldn’t do anymore. I knew that I was grounded for the rest of my life. That this fucking disease took my wings from me,” Hunter says to the wall he’s looking at.I really wish he would roll over and look at me when he said those things so he could see in my face that I don’t see him that way. But he just keeps looking at the wall, and I keep my silence.
“Still think I’m amazing, baby? Even if ten years, twenty, thirty years down the road they could cut off my leg from not controlling my sugars and the nerves have died?”
I sniff again, try to use a serious voice, trying to pretend that what he’s saying isn’t killing me.
“Well, we could get you a badass prosthetic leg, those cool aluminum ones and we can pretend you’re like Robocop or something. No, no, you’d be like the Terminator! And that’s fraking hot.”
He laughs, his body moving up and down, and I feel like I’m riding a Hunter-roller-coaster. “How can you make me laugh when I don’t even feel for it?”
“I’m awesome like that. They should even write a comic book about me, I’m so awesome.” I tell him and lean down to kiss his shoulder blades, where I think actual wings would come from, if he had them. “I think it’s beautiful, but it hurts to look at. And I don’t care if they cut off your leg, or whatever.” Oh, shit, here we go! “ I… I love you, Hunter, not your body parts.”
There. I said it. No biggie. He deserved to hear it, especially after what he just revealed to me. Except the way he’s gone statue-still underneath me is starting to freak me out.
“Do you mean it?” Beautiful or not, I realize now that we’re all fighting something, trying to make our lives better with what we’ve been given.
Then… Did I do the very same thing to myself? Think I couldn’t be loved because I’m a fat ass? I’ve just been TKO’d with my own logic. This changes everything.
“Frak yeah, I mean it.” I lean down over him, my naked chest to his back and lean in close to whisper in his ear. “I love you, Hunter MacLaine.” I lean in closer to band my arms on either side of his ribs. He keeps quiet underneath me, until I lick his earlobe and he growls. Green light, green light. “Now get up and give me what I want.”
Sex on my back is fraking awesome with Hunter. Sex on my knees is phenomenal. I can’t even imagine how sex in the shower is going to be like, or up against a wall. I can’t wait to try.
***
We go to pick up Matty the next afternoon. Hunter begs me to walk around naked in the apartment, but I still wrestle a shirt from him. We cook a healthy breakfast, and he feeds me from his plate.
When I’m stuffed and can’t eat anymore, he makes himself another veggie omelette with no toast and plenty of hot sauce. I watch him eat and wonder if it’s okay to be this happy. To feel like I’m floating high above all the worries and problems I had yesterday, and the day before.
“Baby, you have to stop looking at me like that.”
>
I squirm in my seat, realizing now that I’d been staring at his mouth, remembering what he did to me with it. Thinking about how much more of it I want, all over my body. My skin tightens with fever-heat and I can’t believe I want him all over again.
“You gonna do something about it?” I ask, but it doesn’t come out as confident as I want it to sound. Next time, I’ll do better.
“No. You’re probably sore. I don’t want to be a fucking Neanderthal.”
I laugh and lean in to kiss his cheek. “I took some Tylenol. I’m good.”
Hunter shakes his head, adamant. “No, you’re sore and that’s my fault. I couldn’t control myself and I behaved like a fucking fifteen year old kid. I’m sorry, baby.” His hand covers mine and I watch with fascination as he places a kiss in my palm. My heart threatens to combust in my chest, and yeah, my love for him threatens to burst me to pieces.
“Uh… I asked for it,” I say logically. “I mean, I guess you could’ve stopped if you wanted to, or gone and taken a shower or something...”
“Sera, you have no idea about your appeal and that does things to me,” he cants his head down and this is a signal I’ve learned that means I want you now. “The fact is I should’ve known better. I’m the one who knows how this shit goes. When we come back, I’m going to make you sit in the tub for a hot soak.” He grins and snorts quick. “Like I could’ve stopped once I had you in my bed, naked for me, and I got the chance at watching you come. Especially with your hot little tongue licking me.”
“Shut up, just shut up.” I cover his mouth with my hands.
When I remove my hands, the bastard keeps talking. “I get that you’re embarrassed. But there’s nothing here that you need to be afraid of, yeah? It’s just me.”
I nod. “Yeah, it’s you. Hunter SexGod.” I sigh, look up at the ceiling for guidance but watch a spider crawl its way from east to west. “Look, when you say things like that, I feel like I want a black hole to open up in your kitchen and allow myself to get sucked into it.”