Chapter Forty-Six
Emily
For hours, I practically chain myself to my desk, my nose buried in my old paper, transcribing it to my computer and frantically downloading every citation and half-remembered snippet of revision that springs to mind. Every once in a while, when the frustrated tears well up in my eyes and stop me from being able to even see the text on the page, I stop, and it’s in those moments that Hunter envelops me in his arms and words of confidence, of encouragement, of love rain down on me and wash away my tears.
It’s in those moments that I find it’s hard to question yourself when the most ferocious, intimidating man I’ve ever met is telling me what a smart badass I am and how he has no shred of doubt that I’ve got this all under control.
And even in those times where Hunter’s words might not be enough, I look to my phone, where it seems like every twenty minutes there’s a new text from Maggie telling me to stay calm, to keep my head, because she knows who I am and that I’m more than smart enough to rock the socks off my professor with even the old rough draft of the paper I gave her weeks and weeks ago, so anything new I come up with is going to be incredible.
It helps.
It all helps me to keep transcribing, updating, editing, revising, re-revising, until my fingers ache, my wrists pulse with pain, and my eyes feel like two withered grapes sitting in dry sockets.
Sometime around sunrise, I look up and see Hunter on his phone, talking to someone. I suppose I hear him, too, except I’m so exhausted that anything other than the editorial voice in my head and the words on the page come across as nothing more intelligible than the voices of the adults in all the old Charlie Brown cartoons.
I turn my focus back to my work.
A few dry blinks, a few hundred words, and a few — or more — minutes later, an unexpected sound touches my ears: a baby’s cry.
I look up to see Hunter on my couch, rocking Charlie in his arms.
“What? When did Charlie get here?”
Hunter smiles at me. His answer comes in a soft, calming voice. “An hour ago. Yolanda called me. She needed a break from babysitting to handle some errands and a doctor’s appointment, so you’ll have a study-buddy for a little while. Don’t worry, though, I just fed him and he’ll probably go back to sleep in a few.”
I rub my eyes, feeling the grit of exhaustion beneath my lids. The sight of Hunter cradling Charlie tugs at something deep inside me, a warmth spreading through my chest despite my fatigue. For a moment, I let myself imagine a future where this scene is our everyday reality.
“I’m not worried, and I know he won’t interrupt my work, because I feel like I could use some sleep myself. Will you wake me in a couple of hours?”
Hunter smiles, and Charlie burps. “Absolutely.”
I nod gratefully and stumble to my bed, collapsing onto it without even bothering to change out of my clothes. As I drift off, I hear Hunter's low, soothing voice singing a lullaby to Charlie. It sounds like Johnny Cash.
When I wake, late-morning light bathes the room. I blink, disoriented, and sit up slowly. Hunter is sitting on the edge of my bed, a cup of coffee in his hand. He strokes my hair and leans down to give me a kiss that does as much to perk me up as any cup of coffee ever could.
“It’s time,” he says.
I sit up and take the cup from him, let the warm, bitter liquid between my lips and feel life bloom through my body. “Already?”
“It’s been a couple of hours. Charlie’s fast asleep, it’s all quiet, and I made you bacon and eggs.”
I kiss him again, and more warmth flutters through me. “You said Charlie’s fast asleep?”
“He is. If I know him — and I think I do — he’ll be in a deep sleep for the next few hours.”
“Deep? How deep?”
“Charlie really likes his mid-morning naps. I could probably take him to the shooting range and he’d sleep through it. Sometimes I’m jealous of how good that kid is at sleeping.”
An idea forms in my mind; I made a lot of progress on that paper before I went to sleep, and I’m not ready to go back to work just yet. “Good. Because there’s something else I need before I get back to work.”
Another kiss. I think he’s got the idea, but that doesn’t stop him from asking. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”
I set the coffee cup aside and pull Hunter closer, my lips finding his with renewed energy. My hands slip under his shirt, tracing the hard planes of his chest. "You," I whisper against his mouth. "I need you."
Hunter groans softly, his large hands cupping my face. "Are you sure? Your paper —"
"Can wait a little longer," I finish for him. "I've been working non-stop. I need this. I need you."
He searches my eyes for a moment, then nods. In one fluid motion, he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the muscled torso I know so well. I drink in the sight of him, marveling at how this fierce man can be so gentle with me, with Charlie.
“Well, if you think it’ll help,” he murmurs.
“It’ll help me so much. I think I really need to relax, you know?”
Hunter's hands slide down my sides, gripping my hips as he lowers me back onto the bed. His lips trail along my jaw, down my neck, igniting sparks of pleasure wherever they touch. I arch into him, craving more contact, more of everything he offers.
“Take your shirt off,” he says.
I comply, lifting it over my head and tossing it and my bra away.
Hunter's eyes darken as he takes in the sight of my exposed skin. I shiver in anticipation, my entire body suddenly feeling more alive. He lowers his head, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my collarbone and down to the swell of my breasts. I gasp as his tongue swirls around a sensitive nipple, sending jolts of electricity straight to my core.
"Hunter," I moan, threading my fingers through his hair. “I love how you do that.”
He hums against my skin in response, the vibrations adding to the delicious sensations coursing through me. His hands skim down my sides, thumbs hooking into the waistband of my pants. With deliberate slowness, he pulls them down my legs, taking my underwear with them.
I feel the cool air against my bare skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Hunter’s body. He moves down, his lips and tongue tracing paths of fire along my belly, making me tremble with anticipation. I reach down to caress his hair, tugging gently as he nears my core.
Hunter looks up at me, his eyes burning. He places a gentle kiss on the inside of my thigh before licking a slow, torturous line from the bottom upward, stopping just before the place where I need him most.
“Please,” I whisper, my voice trembling with desire.
He doesn’t respond with words — he never does in moments like these. Instead, he dips his head and his tongue works its magic. Slow strokes at first, then focusing on that sweet spot that makes me writhe beneath him. My hips lift off the bed as he devours me, and I can’t help but let out a loud moan.
My hands clutch at the sheets as waves of pleasure roll through me. Hunter knows exactly what he’s doing, driving me closer and closer to the edge with each flick of his tongue and every gentle suckle.
“Oh god… Hunter…” My voice comes out breathless and desperate. “I need you — inside me. Now.”
He pulls back slightly, looking up at me with a scorching smile on his lips. He stands up and undresses completely, revealing his hard, thick length that I crave. My eyes travel down his body hungrily.
Before I know it, Hunter is back on the bed, kneeling between my legs.
“This what you want?”
A long, teasing lick on my pussy makes me question everything.
For a moment, at least.
“Yes. I want you to fuck me,” I say. “I need it. Fuck me hard. And deep. And rough. I want to feel it and forget about everything else.”
Hunter positions himself between my legs, looking down at my body. I feel his eyes tease and touch every inch of me, and I shake and writhe beneath him as I anticipate just how it will feel to have him inside me. I want it. Want to forget, to feel alive and obliterated for just a moment — as far away from my troubles as I can get.
Just as the head of his cock touches my pussy and I release a soft moan, he pauses and leans to the side and grabs something off the floor.
“What is it?” I say.
“Open up.”
I obey. And he shoves my underwear into my mouth. I cock my head and give him a look.
“You’re going to need this,” he says. “Because what I’m going to do to you will make you scream.”
Then he enters me.
Slow at first, but deep, with a sweet, inexorable strength that stretches me in the most perfect way.
I gasp around the makeshift gag, my muffled cries of pleasure filling the room as Hunter pushes deeper inside me. The sensation is overwhelming, a blend of pain and euphoria that makes my toes curl and my hands grasp at the sheets.
Hunter's rhythm is merciless, each thrust powerful and precise, driving me closer to the edge with every stroke. My body responds instinctively, arching toward him, meeting his movements with equal fervor. The sound of our bodies colliding is an erotic symphony punctuated by my muffled moans and his guttural growls.
His eyes never leave mine, a silent promise that he'll take me exactly where I need to go. The intensity of his gaze sends another wave of heat through me, making it impossible to focus on anything but the pleasure that's building inside.
Hunter's hand finds its way to my thigh, lifting it slightly to deepen the angle. The shift sends a jolt of electricity through me, and I bite down on the fabric between my teeth, trying to stifle the scream that threatens to escape. His other hand grips my hip with bruising force, holding me in place as he pounds into me with relentless determination.
The pressure mounts, a white-hot coil tightening in my core. I can feel myself teetering on the edge of release, every nerve ending aflame with sensation. Hunter's name is a chant in my mind, a prayer for deliverance as he takes me higher and higher.
"Look at me," he commands, his voice rough and breathless.
I force my eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. The connection between us is electric, a shared experience so deep it shocks me. That realization soars through my mind for only a second before euphoria overtakes me and I arch my back, his muffled name coming from my lips in silent screams and my body writhing in mute, magnificent ecstasy.
Through it all, he dominates me, controls me, fucks me.
When I come to, I feel lifelessly limp and utterly under his control.
He must see some measure of consciousness return to my blissed-out eyes, because he grins and says, “Time to turn you over. I want you on your knees. I want your ass.”
A broken, gleeful yelp escapes me — muted by my makeshift gag, but still an audible exclamation of pleasure and anticipation — and then Hunter flips me over, powerless fucktoy that I am.
Then my yelp turns into a quiet moan as his tongue finds my asshole.
The sensation is both unexpected and mind-blowing, sending fresh waves of arousal crashing over me. His tongue traces circles, teasing and tantalizing every nerve ending. I try to push back against him, craving more, but his hands hold me firmly in place.
Hunter's tongue delves deeper, and I feel myself spiraling into a new realm of pleasure. The fabric in my mouth muffles my moans, but they grow louder with each flick of his tongue. The intensity is almost too much to bear, and my body quivers with the effort of holding back the scream that's building inside me.
I grip the sheets tightly, my knuckles turning white as Hunter continues his sensual assault. Just when I think I can't take it anymore, he pulls away, leaving me gasping and trembling.
With a firm hand on my hip, he positions himself behind me. I feel the heat of his body against mine, the delicious anticipation building once again.
“Are you ready?” His voice burns against me.
I nod.
First, he uses a finger, teasing me, testing me, preparing me, and even that is enough to make me shake and cry out for more. When he feels I’m ready — and I’m ready to break for all the shaking and writhing I’m doing — he enters me.
The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of fullness and friction that makes my toes curl and my back arch. Hunter's pace is relentless from the start, driving deep inside me with each thrust. The force of it sends ripples of pleasure radiating through my body, making my head spin.
He grips my hips hard, guiding me back onto his cock with each movement. The sounds of our flesh meeting and our muffled cries fill the room.
Hunter's fingers dig into my skin as he takes me harder, deeper. My breath comes in ragged, muted gasps.
“You’re going to come for me again,” he growls, his hands holding me tight, making clear that I am his — under his control, belong to him, am owned by him — completely. “You’re going to come while I fuck your tight ass.”
His words hit something inside me, as does his thick cock, and before I know it, I’m shaking and screaming into my gag, my hands clawing at my mattress like I’m part feral animal.
The climax rolls through me in wave after relentless wave, each more intense than the last. My muffled screams seem distant, my senses blurred as I succumb entirely to the euphoria of the moment. Hunter doesn't relent; his thrusts continue, deep and powerful, prolonging my ecstasy until I'm nothing more than a quivering mass beneath him.
Finally, I feel him tense, his grip on my hips tightening as he buries himself one last time inside me. A guttural growl escapes his lips as he reaches his own peak, and the sensation of his release sends a final shudder of pleasure through my body.
For a few moments, neither of us moves. The only sounds are our labored breaths and the pounding of our hearts. Slowly, Hunter withdraws from me and collapses onto the bed beside me. He pulls the gag from my mouth gently, kisses me with deep ferocity, and we lay there in silence, our bodies spent and sated.
The reality of what just transpired washes over me in fragments. My troubles obliterated, if only temporarily. I had found exactly what I needed in that raw intensity with Hunter — an escape.
He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his touch surprisingly tender after the ferocity we just shared.
"You okay?" he murmurs.
I nod weakly, unable to form words just yet. His eyes search mine for any sign of regret or discomfort, but all he finds is gratitude.
Hunter smiles softly and pulls me into his arms. I nestle against him, feeling safe in a way I hadn't expected. The storm within me is quiet for now.
After a long while in his arms, I extract myself and sit up. My tummy is rumbling, and all I can think about are eggs and bacon.
“I need to eat,” I say. The words feel funny on my lips, as if my mouth is full of cotton, while aftershocks of orgasm run through my body. “I need to eat, shower, and get back to work.”
Hunter rumbles something that might be agreement, or maybe a half-snore. His eyes are lidded partly closed and there’s a profoundly satisfied smile on his face. I like this view. I can’t wait to see it more mornings when I’m not stressed out of my mind by impending academic doom.
As I shuffle into the kitchen to eat, I hear Hunter’s phone go off and he enters a muffled conversation with someone.
I barely notice. I have a plateful of eggs and bacon and I’m hoovering it while standing over the kitchen sink. I barely even use silverware.
Then I see something that makes the half-chewed bite of eggs and bacon fall out of my mouth and land in my kitchen sink with a plop ; through my kitchen window, which affords me a lovely view of the busy street outside my building, along with a laundromat and a convenience store whose cashier often doubles as the neighborhood drug dealer, I see a familiar car parked on the street. Jay’s car.
Just then, Hunter comes out of the bedroom, fully dressed. He has his gun in his hand and he’s checking it over.
“I have to go. Club stuff. Shouldn’t take long,” he says. “Yolanda’s still at the doctor’s. Are you good to watch Charlie? He should stay asleep until I get back.”
Several competing thoughts run through my mind in that moment. I should tell Hunter; tell him he can’t go, tell him I’m afraid, tell him the truth about the break-in and everything nightmarish about my life. But that could cost me our relationship.
Then I remember my gun. It’s still exactly where I left it, and, if Jay tries anything — like a reenactment of the break-in I’m sure he orchestrated last night — I’ll be more than justified in defending myself with that weapon.
“Em, is there something wrong?” He says.
I shake my head and force a smile. “No, I’m still a little woozy from earlier. Go ahead, I’ll be fine to watch Charlie.”
After a kiss or five, he’s gone.
Some time passes where I just sit at the window, my gun out and on the counter within reach, while I sip coffee, eat bacon, and stare out the window, just waiting for an opportunity to shoot my stalker ex-boyfriend.
Nothing happens.
Except eventually duty calls, and I find myself back at my desk, my gun beside me, my fingertips dancing across the keyboard as I summon from memory a version of my paper that I hope is passable enough to get me a good grade.
Page after page appears on the screen. It turns out that the potent combination of multiple orgasms and mortal terror is great for productivity.
I continue working on my paper, my fingers flying across the keyboard as I pour out everything I can remember about my research. The words flow more easily now, fueled by a combination of adrenaline, caffeine, and post-orgasmic clarity. I'm making good progress, but as the hours tick by, exhaustion creeps in.
My vision blurs, the words on the screen swimming before my eyes. I blink hard, trying to refocus, but it's getting harder to concentrate. My head feels heavy, nodding forward before I jerk it back up. I tell myself I just need to finish this section, just one more paragraph...
The next thing I know, my cheek is pressed against the cool surface of my desk. I must have dozed off. I sit up slowly, rubbing my eyes and trying to orient myself. How long was I out? The room is darker now, the afternoon light fading.
Suddenly, a heavy, ominous knock at the door jolts me fully awake. My heart leaps into my throat. Who could that be? Hunter wouldn't knock like that, and neither would anyone else I know.
The knock comes again, more insistent this time, as if someone is throwing all of their weight into my door.
I freeze, my eyes darting to the gun on the desk beside me.
Another knock that’s just short of a full-out attempt to break down the door. It shakes in its frame with the force of the blow. Through the heavy wood, I hear two muffled, manly voices.
With my heart in my throat, I grab my gun and rise from my chair.