Chapter 17
LINCOLN
It was the smell of coffee and a dull ache between my legs that woke me up the next morning.
Stretching my arms over my head and pointing my toes toward the end of the bed, Hunter’s sheets tangled around my thighs like the very best kind of bondage.
With a groan, I rolled onto my side, finding the other pillow empty and a light on somewhere else in the house that cast an amber glow down the hallway.
Climbing out of bed, I stumbled blindly toward the light—which was from the kitchen—wiping sleep out of my eyes the whole way.
“You look well and properly fucked,” Hunter said, and wearing nothing more than my underwear, I smiled at him sleepily.
“That might be an understatement.”
“Did I wake you up?” he asked, pouring coffee into a sleek, black tumbler and twisting closed the lid.
I shook my head.
It was the absence of his body beside mine that had eventually woken me up, but I didn’t think we’d been involved with each other long enough for me to tell him that. I was never not craving the closeness and warmth of him.
“I was going to leave you a note,” he went on, bustling around and arranging things in neat piles on the counter. His coffee, his wallet, his keys, his cell phone. He was mostly dressed, tie undone around his neck and his feet still bare, but he had on his standard slacks and a button-up combo.
“Dear John,” I teased, but he cut me off with a roll of his eyes.
Hunter shoved a sheet of yellow legal paper across the island toward me. I was still half-asleep and everything was blurry, but his handwriting was crisp and legible, short and sure strokes of the pen making up every letter.
Lincoln,
I had to go to work and you looked too good to wake up. I like the sight of you in my bed, so stay there as long as you want. Film a little, if you feel so inclined. The door locks automatically when it closes, so don’t worry about a key. Last night was amazing. You are amazing.
xx, H
I folded the note in on itself, determined to shove it into my pocket once I found my pants.
“Two kisses?” I asked.
“As many as you want now that you’re up.”
He walked around the counter and fitted himself between my naked thighs.
There was no thought involved with taking the ends of his tie into my hands and knotting it into place at the base of his throat, which was a blessing, because I had to spend all of my brain power on remembering how to breathe with him so fucking close to me.
After I adjusted the knot, I smoothed my hand down the silk, finding his green tie to be as soft as his blue one.
Before my fingers could drop off the end, he covered my hand with his and raised it to his mouth, kissing my knuckles, my palm, the inside of my wrist. A wave of goosebumps rolled up my arms, and I closed my eyes so I could better appreciate the feel of his mouth.
Patron saint of head over heels in love with a man I barely even knew.
“I’m going to have lunch with Smith today,” he said, my fingertips pressed against his lips. “I’ll let him know we’re…well, shit.”
Hunter’s normally gorgeous mouth turned down into a frown, and I pulled my hand out of his grip in order to stroke my thumb across his cheek.
His face was still damp, smooth…he’d shaved.
I imagined him leaning over the sink, a towel loose around his waist and shaving cream streaked down his throat and toward his ear.
“What?”
“I’ll let him know that we’re…what’s the word, Lincoln?”
“Involved,” I murmured.
“Is that all?”
I appreciated him putting the ball in my court, but it wasn’t a decision for me to make. Normally deciding your involvement with another person was a collaborative kind of thing, but he said it had been awhile since he’d been in a serious relationship so maybe he’d forgotten how it worked.
“What do you want it to be?” I asked.
“I’m a Covington, sweetheart,” he said, angling his face into my hand and kissing my palm again. “We’re greedy men by nature.”
“Be greedy then.”
He closed the space between us and slanted our mouths together, making quick work of slipping his tongue past my sleep-chapped lips and into my mouth.
I flung my arms around his neck, happy to let him steer the kiss, relishing the way the taste of his coffee and his toothpaste quickly overpowered the sticky remnants of sleep that lingered in my mouth.
It didn’t take long for my cock to wake up as much of the rest of me, and it was only a reluctant groan from Hunter’s mouth as he broke the kiss that put enough space between us that we could breathe.
“Boyfriend,” he whispered, the word dusting across my lips like a kiss on its own.
“As long as you call me sweetheart again,” I said softly, my whole body swaying after his.
“I’ll call you anything you like.”
“I’ll call you Sir,” I promised, because it felt right to do so. “I’ll call you my best boy.” Hunter smiled against my mouth. “I’ll call you Daddy.”
“I’ll be all of those things for you.”
He took my face into his hands and kissed me hard. Rough enough that I saw stars around the corners of my vision before I closed my eyes and melted into him again.
“I’ll tell Smith you’re my boyfriend,” he said again.
“You just like saying it.”
The corner of his mouth quirked up, and he looked so fucking young. “I’ll tell him I’m your boyfriend. That sounds better.”
Something unexplainable and terrifying knotted itself together in the middle of my chest, and I was glad Hunter had ended the kiss because if his tongue was still in my mouth, I might choke.
“What else?” I asked.
“I’ll make sure he knows that you’ve been honest about your relationship with him. That it doesn’t bother me. That it won’t bother me.”
“And tell him he can talk to me about it,” I said. “I don’t want things to be weird. I…your brother is a good friend, and I don’t want to lose that.”
“You won’t.” Hunter kissed my forehead, then took two steps back, smoothing his hand down the front of his tie. “I have to go to work, but I was serious about you staying.”
“About filming.”
“Do whatever you want,” he said. “There’s coffee if you want it. Use my shower, rub yourself all over my sheets, come on my pillows—”
I cut him off before he could say anything else, “You’re being ridiculous.”
“I want you here as much as you want to be here,” he said, face going so very serious.
My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, but I slid off the stool anyway and cradled his face in my hands. I loved how he was taller than me, broader. I loved the way he bent and buckled for me when I needed it the most.
“Kneel for me before you go,” I said quietly, stroking my fingers over his carefully styled hair. I didn’t need to ask twice, barely even once, before he was on his way down to the floor, hands coming up to join at the base of his skull. “I love the sight of you down there.”
“I like being here,” he whispered.
“Rub your face against my cock,” I told him. “Give me something to jack off about after you leave me here.”
Hunter growled, doing what I’d asked and then doing more.
He mouthed the shape of my growing erection through the thin material of my underwear, bobbing his head and using his tongue as if there wasn’t a barrier between us.
Heat wrapped around my spine, and I thrust my hips forward, desperate for him in a borderline obsessive way.
“Go to work, Sir,” I managed to force out the words, sliding my hand between my cock and his mouth. “Before I put you onto your hands and knees and find out just how quickly you can really come.”
He cursed under his breath, but righted himself to his feet, making a show of adjusting the bulge between his legs before swallowing hard and grabbing his things off the counter.
It was routine as I watched him slide some things into his pocket and others into his bag.
He gave me one last lingering look before heading for the door and stopped with his hand on the knob, throwing a quick look at me over his shoulder.
“I do want to try that,” he said, chin tucked toward his chest. “With you.”
How the man could disarm me with his dominance and his submission was a mystery that belonged in the history books because I’d surely never make sense of it.
“There’s lots I want to try with you,” I assured him.
He lingered long enough for me to watch the red flush flare up his cheeks, and then the door opened and closed, and I was alone in Hunter’s apartment. Of course, I planned to snoop around. It was the easiest way to get to know him, but there was definitely a more pressing matter to attend to.
Since I’d just filmed a video, or rather, he’d filmed me on his bed the night before, I opted for a change of scenery, taking my phone into his primary bathroom.
The setup was less than ideal, especially since I didn’t have my tripod or my ring light, but I would do the best I could.
Even if the video wasn’t fit for the public, it would be good enough for Hunter.
I worked through a couple placement options, trying the angle on the bathroom counter, but it was too far away from the shower on account of Hunter’s massive bathroom.
The next best was in the shower with me, so I sent up a prayer of thanks over having a waterproof phone, then propped it up on his unused built-in soap dish.
It wouldn’t get a full body shot, but it would get my face, which was what he’d wanted in the first place.
Yeah, this was going to be a video just for Hunter.
Turning on the hot water, I pressed record and stepped under the spray. I was still hard from Hunter being on his knees, and I told him so, pressing my shoulders against the back wall of the shower and curling my fingers around my cock.
“You just left for work, and I’m so fucking hard for you, Daddy.” I moaned, trying to not overthink the endearment, the honorific. “Fuck. Fuck. I can still feel you inside of me.”
It wasn’t a lie.
I dropped my head back and closed my eyes, getting into the rhythm of stroking my cock and playing with my nipples.
My own hand felt good, but nowhere near as perfect as Hunter’s mouth or his fist. Even the way he tweaked my piercings was better, and I thought how rude a stranger knew my body better than I did.
When I closed my eyes, I could see him. Could see the way he screwed his eyes closed before he came, the way his mouth quivered a little when he held back his own pleasure.
Like the most addicting aphrodisiac. I didn’t need to close my eyes, though, and that wasn’t what he’d wanted.
He wanted to see my face, wanted to see me come.
Prying my eyes open, I looked directly into the camera and gave a long and slow overhand stroke down the length of my shaft.
“I want to tie you to your bed and tease your asshole until you come,” I told my phone, a shiver tearing up my spine at the memory of how sensitive Hunter was. How violently his body reacted to me. “And then tease you until you can’t come anymore. Until you’re just gasping and begging.”
I wanted him to do the same to me. To reduce me to nothing more than a guttural need for him and the pleasure he wanted me to have.
“And then I want you to wake me up in the middle of the night…I need it. Need you to just take me.” A whimper fell out of my mouth, almost lost beneath the sound of the shower. I tightened my hand, stroked myself quicker. “Want you to…”
I wanted Hunter to do vile things with my body.
Wanted him to shove a dildo in my ass and DP me, stretching me out until I came for him.
Wanted him to roll me onto my stomach in the middle of the night and shove his dick into me, fuck me until he came, and then go back to sleep.
And between all of that, before and during and after, I wanted him on his knees for me, my cock in his mouth and my hands in his hair.
“Tell me where to come. Tell me where I can come,” I pleaded, the orgasm so close that even if I was supposed to wait for permission, I wouldn’t have been able to hold off one second longer. “I’ll come on your face, Daddy. Sir, oh fuuuuuuck…”
I came with the memory of Hunter’s slack jaw and hooded eyes on the backs of my eyelids.
Imagined pulling my cock out of his mouth, slick with spit and tears, shooting my load across his swollen lips and his freshly shaven cheeks.
Hunter’s name tumbled out of my mouth as loud as a thunderclap, and when the first shot of cum burst out of my cock, my knees trembled and gave out entirely.
My ass hit the floor of the shower hard enough to hurt, but the cum still geysered out of my dick like I had an endless supply of it for this one, earthquaking orgasm.
Two more strokes and it hurt to touch myself, but the orgasm was still tight and aggressive in the base of my spine, so I fought through it until I had to cover my eyes and cry out for how bad—how good—it felt.
Finally, my balls were empty, and my arms fell uselessly at my sides.
The warm water rained down against my chest, my face, my stomach, rinsing me clean while I caught my breath.
Groaning, I forced myself onto my hands and knees, then up onto my feet.
The camera still recorded, and I made sure to give Hunter a good look at my dilated pupils and my flushed cheeks before swiping my finger over the record button the end the video.
“I think I’m in love with you,” I muttered.
And fuck if that wasn’t the worst news I’d had since Cassandra died.