Hunter
fifteen
I WAKE UP with my hand on Stevie’s tit.
My nose is in her sweet-smelling hair, my hard cock pressed against the plump curve of her ass. This is how I want to wake up for the rest of my life.
Last night was fucking fantastic.
Stevie likes her pleasure laced with pain, and it’s enough to keep my cock hard forever and ever. I finally found someone I’m insanely attracted to who’s into the same type of play that I am, and I can’t wait to push the limits, see what else she’s game for.
I rub her nipple with my thumb, squeezing her tit gently. She moans softly and pushes her ass into my groin. I suppress a groan. Fuck, she feels good.
My gaze catches on the digital clock placed on my dresser. It reads 7:27am. Suddenly, it dawns on me that I almost immediately fell asleep after fucking her last night, and I slept through the night, without waking up once.
That…never happens.
I didn’t even have to take a sleeping pill or listen to that supposedly mind-calming binaural beats bullshit that promises a deep sleep but never fucking works. What the fuck?
This is the second time I had a decent night’s rest this week, and it’s coincided with being balls deep in Stevie right before. Is she the fucking cure for my insomnia after all these years?
I let go of her and flip onto my back, staring at the ceiling. I need some time to process this new development.
I started having trouble sleeping after my mom died when I was eight.
I witnessed her death. The nightmares were terrifying and relentless for years.
In them, I was always too late to stop her from falling down the stairs and breaking her neck.
Sometimes I was running toward her, watching her mouth hang open in fear and shock as gravity took her.
Other times my fingers were just touching hers, my hand almost reaching to grab hers and pull her towards me.
But never close enough. She always fell.
I always woke up to the knowledge that she’d been taken from me, and I’d never see her again.
I still haven’t stopped blaming myself.
The nightmares don’t come nightly anymore, but they do come, waking me in the middle of the night, keeping me awake until dawn when I give up trying to go back to sleep and get up to go to practice.
Over the years, I’ve somehow learned to function on very little sleep.
I’d forgotten how good it feels to get real rest.
Getting out of bed, I pull on my sweatpants and go to the bathroom. When I get out, Stevie is still sound asleep, and I really like the way she looks in my bed, obviously comfortable and feeling safe.
I head to the kitchen and get the coffee brewing, then try to decide what to make my princess for breakfast. Fuck me, I’ve never made a woman breakfast in my life. I’ve almost never even had women spend the night. I don’t know what the fuck is happening to me.
I rummage through the ingredients in my fridge and pantry.
I could make eggs, bacon, sausage, and blueberry pancakes.
I have a feeling Stevie likes blueberry pancakes.
Good thing my housekeeper keeps my fridge stocked, ‘cause I’m not sure how many college-aged men actually remember to go out and buy blueberries.
My grandfather tried to force a private chef on me, but I enjoy cooking.
There’s something very meditative about it.
Trying new recipes relaxes me like few things do.
I like the challenge. Even when I fuck up, I learn something new every time.
Blueberry pancakes, though, I’ve made a few times before and they’ve always turned out good.
I hope the smell of breakfast will wake Stevie up.
There’s no practice or class today. It’s the one day this week that I’m fully free.
Stevie can stay as long as she wants. The thought feels good and right in my soul.
I want her puttering around in my jersey, eating the food I’ve made for her.
I can finally give her a full tour of my place, then maybe we can fuck in the shower. I want to soap her up again.
I have six pancakes stacked on a plate when she finally emerges from my bedroom. She’s wearing one of my hockey hoodies, and nothing else. It hits her mid-thigh, her legs bare and sexy as fuck.
“Good morning, sunshine,” I say. “I hope you like blueberry pancakes. I also made eggs and bacon.”
“I like all those things,” she says, coming into the kitchen and pulling out one of the chairs around the island. She takes a seat, not meeting my eyes.
“Do you want coffee or orange juice?” I ask.
“Both.”
I pour the orange juice first. “Tell me how you take your coffee.”
She pulls the glass of orange juice towards her chest, circling it with both hands. Someone’s feeling shy this morning. “I’ll do it,” she says, taking the mug of coffee I pour for her. She still won’t look at me.
I turn back toward the stove, busying myself with making more pancakes.
“Can you drop me off later?” she asks.
“Of course.”
“Thanks.”
I’m not about to tell her I was imagining her spending the whole day with me. Then I remember the contract and how she’s promised to be available to me at any time of day and night. I should hold her to it; I’ve gone soft.
“Eat up,” I say, putting a plate of pancakes, eggs, and bacon in front of her. “I’m fucking you in the shower before you leave.”
I stare at her and she finally meets my gaze. I see the heat there. She wants to get fucked in the shower. She quickly looks back down at her plate, picking up a fork and poking at the scrambled eggs.
“Did you hear me?” I say gruffly.
She nods. “I heard you.”
“Look at me.”
She slowly lifts her gaze. “What?”
“Don’t give me attitude.”
“I wasn’t!”
“You signed the contract, sweetheart. If I want to tie you to the bed and fuck you all day long, you can’t say no.”
She drops her fork and glares at me. “I can use the safe word and make you stop.”
I chuckle, grabbing her by the chin and making her stare into my eyes. “You can. But you won’t.”
She bats my hand away and I laugh. I like it when she gets feisty.
I cross my arms, lean my hip against the kitchen island, and watch her eat. “How’re the pancakes?”
“Yummy,” she says, taking a big bite. I can’t stop staring at her lips.
“Yeah?”
“Mhmm.” She looks at me. “Aren’t you gonna eat?”
“I’d rather watch you first.”
She ducks her head, a blush appearing on her cheeks. Did I mention I love making her uncomfortable?
“Don’t hockey players need to eat a lot of carbs? For like, energy or something?”
I lean towards her, resting my forearms on the granite. Licking my lips, I say, “Why don’t you give me a bite then?”
She cuts a perfect triangle of pancake and spears it onto her fork. I hold her gaze as she holds it towards me. Then she makes a buzzing sound and moves the fork around in a circular motion. “Open up for the airplane, Hunter. The airplane is coming in for a landing.”
I can’t help myself; I burst into laughter. “Oh, you’re a comedian, huh?”
“Open up or the airplane will crash!”
I grab her hand and hold it still. Leaning over, I dart my tongue out and take the bite of pancake into my mouth, licking the fork and looking into Stevie’s eyes the whole time. Her lips part as she watches me.
“Mmm.” I chew and swallow. “Pretty good pancakes, if I do say so myself.”
“I would’ve never guessed you could cook,” she says, her voice husky.
“Yeah? Be a good girl and I’ll make you breakfast every day.”
She puts the fork down and looks away. “I should get going.”
“Not yet, baby. You owe me a shower fuck.” I straighten up and walk towards her. Gathering her hair in my hands, I tilt her face up and look into her eyes. “I only made you come once last night. We can’t have that. You need to come a few more times today before I’ll be satisfied.”
“Last night was amazing,” she says, eyes glazed over.
“Yes, princess. That’s why I’m not letting you go just yet. Go and get undressed. I’ll be there in a minute.”
She hops off the chair and I smack her ass. She yelps and hurries back to my bedroom.
I could really get used to this.