Chapter Five #2
"Good." His fingers found my clit and circled with exactly the pressure I needed. "I want to make you come so many times you forget your own name."
"Ambitious."
"Motivated."
He worked me with clever fingers while his mouth moved between my breasts — licking, sucking, teasing until I was squirming in his lap. Slow circles on my clit, then faster when my breathing changed. The heat of the water, the champagne in my blood, his hands on my body — I was already climbing.
"Hunter—"
"That's it." He pressed harder, faster. "Let go for me."
I shattered. Pleasure crashed through me, my hips grinding against his hand as I rode it out. He kept stroking, drawing out every tremor until I sagged against his chest, boneless.
"One," he said, sounding far too satisfied.
Before I could catch my breath, he lifted me and set me on the edge of the tub, spreading my thighs wide.
"What are you—"
He buried his face between my legs.
"Oh fuck—" The words dissolved into a moan as his tongue swept through my folds.
He ate me like I was the best thing he'd ever tasted. Long, slow licks followed by gentle suction on my clit. He slid two fingers inside me, curling them to hit that spot while his tongue worked me over, and I was already climbing again.
My hands fisted in his wet hair, hips rocking against his face. He made a low sound of approval, the vibration shooting straight to my core.
"Don't stop," I begged. "Please—"
He doubled down, fingers pumping faster, tongue flicking my clit without mercy. The pressure built and built until it crested and broke, harder than the first time, my thighs clamping around his head while I cried out.
When I finally released him, he pressed a kiss to my inner thigh and looked up with that cocky grin.
"Two."
"Get up here."
He climbed out of the tub, water streaming off his body. His cock was flushed dark, straining, and I wanted it in my mouth.
I slid off the edge and dropped to my knees on the bathmat.
"Dixie, you don't have to—"
I wrapped my hand around his shaft and licked the tip.
"Fuck." His head fell back, a groan tearing from his throat.
I took him deeper, hollowing my cheeks, one hand working what wouldn't fit. He was hot and hard and tasted like clean skin and want. His hand tangled in my wet hair — not pushing, just holding on like he needed something to anchor him.
"Your mouth." His voice was wrecked. "God, baby, your mouth feels incredible."
I worked him with enthusiasm, loving the sounds he made — the groans, the curses, the way his thighs trembled when I took him deep. When I cupped his balls and swallowed him down, he swore and pulled me off.
"I'm going to come if you keep doing that." He hauled me to my feet. "And I want to be inside you when I do."
He walked me backward toward the bed. Stopped.
"Wait." His jaw was tight, clearly fighting for control. "I don't have—are you—"
"I'm on the pill." I met his eyes. "And I'm clean. Got tested six months ago. Haven't been with anyone since."
Something flickered in his expression. Relief. Heat. Something deeper.
"I'm clean too," he said. "Tested regularly. Haven't been with anyone in... longer than I want to admit."
"Then stop talking."
I pulled him down onto the bed with me.
He settled between my thighs, his cock pressing against my entrance, and the feel of him there — bare, nothing between us — made us both pause.
"You sure?" His voice was rough, strained.
I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him down.
He slid inside in one long thrust. We both groaned. He was big — stretching me, filling me completely — and the sensation of him bare inside me was almost too much.
"You feel incredible," he gritted out, holding still to let me adjust. "So tight. So wet. Fuck, Dixie."
"Move," I demanded. "Please move."
He pulled back and drove deep. Set a rhythm that had me arching off the mattress, my nails raking down his back. His mouth found mine, swallowing my moans as he fucked me with long, deliberate strokes.
"Harder," I gasped against his lips.
He shifted my leg higher, changing the angle, and pounded into me. Every thrust hit that spot inside me, pleasure coiling tight and hot in my belly. The sound of skin on skin filled the room, punctuated by my desperate sounds and his rough groans.
"Touch yourself." His voice was raw. "I want to feel you come on my cock."
I slid my hand between us, fingers finding my clit. The added sensation was overwhelming — his cock stretching me, filling me, his mouth on my neck, my own fingers working where I needed them. I was racing toward release, my body tightening around him.
"That's it," he said, feeling me clench. "Come for me, Dixie. Let me feel it."
I came with a cry, my body gripping him in waves. He fucked me through it, his rhythm faltering as I pulsed around him, then pulled out.
"Turn over."
I flipped onto my stomach, still trembling. He pulled my hips up so I was on my knees, face pressed into the pillows, and slid back inside from behind.
This angle was deeper. He gripped my hips and thrust hard, filling me so completely I could barely breathe. I could feel every inch of him, bare and hot inside me.
"You feel so good," he groaned. "Taking me so well."
His hand slid around to find my clit, and I gasped.
"Hunter, I can't—"
"You can." His fingers circled as he fucked me. "One more. Give me one more."
Impossibly, the pleasure built again. His cock driving deep. His fingers working my clit. I buried my face in the pillow and surrendered to it.
The fourth orgasm ripped through me without warning, whiting out everything. I heard myself cry his name, felt my body clench around him, and then he was coming too — groaning my name, his hips jerking as he spilled inside me, hot and pulsing.
We collapsed together onto the bed.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. He was still inside me, softening now, his body warm and heavy against my back. Eventually he pulled out carefully and rolled me into his arms, pulling me against his chest.
"That was..." I couldn't find words.
"Yeah." He pressed a kiss to my shoulder. "It really was."
We lay there in the dark, tangled together, his hand stroking lazy patterns on my hip. My heart slowly returned to normal. His breathing evened out against my hair.
But as the haze of pleasure faded, reality crept back in.
I'd just slept with a man who didn't know I had a daughter. Who didn't know about Houston, about the drugs, about the person I used to be. This started as business — five thousand dollars to pretend — and somewhere along the way I'd forgotten to pretend.
He thought he knew me. He didn't. Not really.
And when I told him the truth, he might look at me differently. He might leave. Everyone else had.
My phone buzzed from my clutch across the room.
"Ignore it," Hunter murmured against my neck, half-asleep.
"I can't. It might be important."
I climbed out of bed on shaky legs and grabbed my clutch. Pulled out my phone, keeping the screen angled away from him out of habit.
A text from Mom. A photo of Daisy asleep with Mr. Bun-Bun clutched to her chest, curly blonde hair wild against the pillow.
Sound asleep. Don't worry about picking her up early — sleep in tomorrow! You deserve it.
My throat went tight. I needed to tell him. Right now, before another minute passed.
"Everything okay?" Hunter was propped against the pillows, watching me with soft, satisfied eyes.
"Yeah. Just my mom checking in."
I started back toward the bed.
"Let me see."
I froze. "What?"
"The text." He held out his hand, expression open and curious. "You've been checking your phone all weekend looking worried. Whatever it is, you can tell me."
I should say no. Should lock the screen. Should find the words myself.
But my thumb wasn't on the lock button. And he was already reaching.
Before I could think, I handed him the phone.
Still unlocked.
With my lock screen wallpaper clearly visible — Daisy grinning at the camera, curly blonde hair wild, chocolate smeared across her cheek from her third birthday party.
Hunter stared at the screen. His expression shifted. Confusion. Then understanding. Then something guarded.
When he looked up, his voice was careful.
"Who's the little girl, Dixie?"