Wrecked (25 page)

I didn’t
know how long we lay there, our bodies fit together like spoons. I was so
exhausted from all the crying and all the climaxes that I had lost track of
time. As I listened to Hunter’s steady breathing in my ear—vaguely musing on
the orgasm hat trick he had performed—I dozed off.

SHUT-IN

Sunlight flickered against
my face, bringing me slowly to consciousness. I woke to find myself nestled
beneath Hunter’s chin. My arms were around him and his arms were around me. My
heart beat steadily, calmly. The moment was like when I fell asleep on his
couch while watching horror movies. Except this time, there was no question
about whether we had sex. I vividly remembered the tears and multiple orgasms
from last night. I remembered the connection we’d made and the feelings that
had poured out of both of us. I didn’t want to run this time. I wanted to stay
in his bed and hoped I’d never have to leave.

I knew Hunter
and I weren’t friends anymore. Friends didn’t fall asleep nestled together
naked like lovers.

I shifted
my leg which was wrapped over Hunter’s and realized his cock was still inside
me though no longer hard. I silently watched his chest rise and lower steadily
with each breath, wondering how I ended up in this situation. This wasn’t a
dream—there was no way I could dream up something this good.

Hunter’s
eyes opened lazily. “Lorrie?”

“Morning,
sleepyhead.” I ran a hand through his hair, tousling dark brown strands; the
soft, silky strands slipping between my fingers was even better than I’d
imagined it’d be.

He smiled.
“You stayed.”

I smiled
back. “Yes, I did,” I said softly.

He gently
pulled me to him and we kissed.

“God, it’s
so good to see you laying beside me,” he said. “If I woke up and found you
weren’t here, I probably would’ve lost it.”

“It would
take a major catastrophe to keep me away from you.” I nuzzled my nose against
his, finding the hard edge soft and pliable. Gentle butterfly kisses stuttered
our breaths as I ran my fingertips along his arm where the hammer was etched. I
could hardly believe someone with such savagely beautiful muscles could be so
tender. Hunter was unlike any guy I’d ever met—or probably would ever meet. He
was a walking contradiction: fierce yet tender, strong but damaged. Soon our
nuzzling became a mini-makeout session.

“Mmm I
like kissing you,” he said. “Your lips are so soft, you’re so soft everywhere.”
He gently squeezed my hips. “You’re like my favorite body pillow.” He wrapped
his arms around me and crushed my breasts against his chest.

“Your lips
are soft too.” I touched his lips gently with my finger. “But everywhere else,
you’re hard as a rock.” I poked his abs and he surprisingly giggled like the
Pillsbury Doughboy. “So you really are ticklish?” I said, stunned. “You weren’t
faking it last time.”

His
expression was mock serious. “That’s my weakness. Please don’t tell my
opponents.”

I laughed.
“I can just imagine ‘Mr. Hyde’ taking you down and then tickling you in the
ribs. ‘Goochy goochy goo!’ The ref would have to end the fight because people
would be booing and throwing tomatoes into the ring.”

He
chuckled and brushed my hair behind my ear. “You wouldn’t want to see two
half-naked muscular guys tickling one another?”

I thought
about it for a second. “Nah, I think that would be more silly than sexy. It
just wouldn’t be very manly.”

“Ya know,
one time I was sparring with Gary and he accidentally grabbed one of my
ticklish spots and I started laughing. He thought I was making fun of him and
he got pissed. Broke a punching bag and stormed off.”

“Gary did
say you had a shitty ground game.”

“Did he?”
Hunter chuckled again. “That sounds like him.”

“I could
take you.” I smirked.

“Mmm . . .
that sounds like a challenge. Well, Ms. Hide, shall we have a sparring
session?”

We sparred
for a long time, breaking all the MMA rules by using licking, biting, and
deliberate groin attacks. By the time the sun had risen to its peak, we’d blown
through four condoms and half a bottle of lube. But we were still without a
winner. We were about to keep going but the kittens began mewing for their
food.

“Ah, we
should take a break and feed the babies their breakfast,” Hunter groaned,
moments after filling up the fifth condom.

“Agreed,”
I panted. I rested the back of my hand against my forehead noting the faint
traces of sweat there. “We can continue this afterward.”

After
putting on a pair of athletic shorts Hunter supplied me, I grabbed one of his
infamous hoodies laying on the back of his desk chair. I slipped it on, zipped
it up, and took a moment to inhale his manly scent lingering in the fabric.

He looked
at me and frowned. “Why do you have to look so good in my clothes?”

I eyed
him. He was wearing a white v-neck that stretched against his muscles and gray
sweatpants that hung loose around one side of his waist exposing the fact that
he wasn’t wearing any underwear beneath. “Why do
you
have to look so
good in your clothes? And without your clothes . . .”

“Don’t
tempt me, Lorrie,” he said darkly. “It’s already taking every bit of willpower
to go on this break.”

I blushed.
“Me too. I can’t wait to get you back in the sack—after we feed the babies.”

We went
into the kitchen and found the kittens awake and lively. Rampage and Taylor
were playing with a plush mouse together. They were usually fighting, so the
sight of them enjoying one another’s company was remarkable. Twenty minutes
later, we finished feeding the kittens. We both affectionately looked at all
six of them sleeping together in their bed.

“Do you
think they think of us as their parents?” I asked, sitting on the kitchen floor
with my head resting against Hunter’s shoulder and both of us leaning against
the bottom cupboards.

“Probably,”
he said. “We’ve been taking care of them almost since they were born.” His arm
around my shoulder, he kissed the top of my head.

“But we’re
not cats,” I offered.

“It
doesn’t matter; they don’t have their real parents. The kittens are fortunate
that they’re so young—they won’t know what it’s like to lose their parents, or
be neglected by them. To them, we’ve always been their parents. And I think
we’ve been doing a pretty good job so far.”

I murmured
approval, dimly pondering the implications. It was hard to deny our affections
for the kittens and the kittens’ affections for us. Rampage loved Hunter and
Hunter loved him.

“Want
something to eat?” Hunter asked, moving his arm affectionately around my waist
as we stood up from the kitchen floor.

“Sure, I
could use a little more energy,” I said, looking up at him. “I could also use a
shower.”

“What’s
the point when you’re just going to get hot and sweaty again?” He grinned.

I smiled.
“I have to set a good hygiene example for the kids,” I said jokingly.
“Especially if you don’t.”

“So
responsible. Ya know, if you really want to teach them proper grooming, I can
help you with that.”

“How would
you help me, when you’re the one who’s making me need a shower in the first
place?”

“Cats lick
one another. So if you’ll stand still . . . I know just the spot too.”

I laughed
and playfully slapped his rock-hard chest. “Aren’t you a silly one? Humans
don’t do that.”

Hunter
smiled wickedly. “Alright fine, I’ll have to show you later. In the meantime,
I’m gonna cook us some breakfast. Eggs, sausage, and toast okay?”

“Sure, I’d
love that. Thank you,” I said as I began moving toward the bathroom.

“Oh, and
Lorrie—”

I halted
my gallop and turned to face him. “Yes?”

“Don’t
lock the door,” he said. “I’m gonna join you and we’re gonna pick up where we
left off.”

The way he
looked at me and said those words sent a surge of desire between my legs. I
wanted to jump on him right there and tear off those sagging sweatpants with my
teeth. Instead, I took a deep breath to calm myself and simply smiled at him
innocently. “Okay Gunther, I’ll be waiting.”

I could
feel Hunter’s eyes burning a hole in the back of my athletic shorts as I
strolled back into the bedroom. I pulled my phone out of my jean pocket and
sent a quick text to Daniela letting her know I was hanging out with Hunter, so
she wouldn’t worry. Then I skipped to the bathroom. Breathing in the familiar
clean smell of the bathroom, I looked at myself in the mirror.

Wow, I
look like a mess.

Although
there were no bits of algae and ice caught in my hair this time, my hair was
disheveled, having that just-been-fucked look—except ten times over—and the
light amount of mascara I wore was smeared across my cheeks. I should’ve felt
self-conscious but instead I felt confident and secure. What had gotten into
me?

Hunter.
That’s what.

Tattoos
and Muscles made me feel beautiful and desirable. Humming Taylor Swift’s
Love
Story
merrily, I slipped out of my clothes and stepped into the shower.
Noticing the loofah I’d avoided using before, I picked it up and began brushing
it sensually across my body. The thought of Hunter soaping it up and rubbing it
across his naked body turned me on. It was amazing to think about how so much
had changed since the first time I came over to his place. I’d been cold, numb,
and on the verge of freezing to death. Now I was hot and needy, aching to have
more mind-blowing sex with Hunter. His bathroom trash can was filled with
condoms—many more than before—but this time I knew where they had come from. It
was as if my sexual desire for Hunter had been held back by a dam built from
the tragedy of my past and the uncertainty of my future. And now that dam had
broken.

Still
humming, I was preparing to begin pleasuring myself—a warm up before Hunter
joined me—when on the other side of the shower curtain I heard the bathroom
door open.

“Breakfast
is served,” Hunter called.

“Mmm I can
smell it already,” I answered. “Smells so delicious. I’ll be out in a jiffy.”

“No need.
I brought it in here.” I heard a clink as he placed the food on the bathroom
counter. Then he pulled the shower curtain back and marveled at my body. “How’s
the shower going?” he purred.

“Good, but
a little lonely. All I have is this loofah to keep me company.”

“That
loofah is a bastard.” He growled. “Lemme keep you company.” He tore off his
clothes and hopped into the shower with me. I held the loofah idly by my waist
but he took it and tossed it into the trash; he dipped to his knees and began
kissing the skin where the loofah had been.

“Mmm,” I
hummed as hot water poured over our bodies. I’d never showered with a guy
before and my excitement for the idea was heightened by the fact that the guy
was Hunter.

“Now lemme
lick this sweet cunt of yours, Lorrie.”

His filthy
words made my body thrum with desire. Before I could react, he grabbed my waist
and closed his mouth over my sex. Instinctively, I leaned back against the
tile, one hand holding onto the ceramic soap dish affixed to the wall, the
other hand grabbing Hunter’s hair. He wasted no time sucking on and flittering
his tongue over my clit as if starved for the taste of it. I curled my toes
against the tub, desperately trying to remain standing even as I felt my legs
turning to jelly.

He growled
into my folds and dipped his tongue into my depths, spearing me with a back and
forth movement of his head.

“Oh
god
,
Hunter. That feels
so
good.”

“You
taste
so good,” he grunted.

Because of
the water, my fingers were beginning to slip from the soap dish. I was afraid I
was going to fall and crack my head open mid-orgasm. Feeling a
balance-shattering climax dangerously approaching, I tried to wiggle free but
his large hands firmly grasped my waist. “Hunter, we shouldn’t stay in the
water too long,” I managed to utter between moans. “We’ll end up looking like
prunes.”

He
stopped, leaving me bereft of pleasure. I wanted him to quell the gnawing ache
between my legs he had started but I also wanted to finish my shower and eat
breakfast. If only we could multitask.

“Good
point,” he said casually.

I turned
off the shower and Hunter guided me out of the tub by hand like a bad boy
gentleman. While he began drying my body with a towel, sneaking kisses against
my skin here and there, I spotted a tray on the bathroom counter with a plate
of eggs and sausage, another plate with toast, a jar of grape jelly to the
side, and a tall glass of orange juice. I was impressed not only by the
demonstration of his culinary skills but also by the presentation.

“Aw,
you’re so sweet, Hunter.” I turned to him, lifted on my toes, and
affectionately kissed his lips. “You’re so sweet you’re going to give me
cavities.”

“I’ve got
an extra toothbrush you can use.” He winked. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you
going to have any food?” I asked smiling, my mouth watering at the feast before
me.