4. Hunter
CHAPTER FOUR
Hunter
She’s still soaked. Still twitching.
I circle once. Twice. Then press in.
Her back arches. She gasps like I’ve shocked her.
I go slow. No need to rush. I already know she’s on edge. She grips my shoulder with one hand, her nails dragging down my back as I work her open again.
“Hunter,” she breathes.
“I’ve got you.”
She lets out a strangled little sound, hips starting to roll, and I add a second finger. Rhett kneels behind her, hands steady on her waist, grounding her.
She leans into him while I fuck her with my fingers. Her eyes are locked on mine—wide, stunned, wanting.
I curl them just right, and she shatters.
Again.
Her body stiffens, thighs trembling, her head tipping back into Rhett’s chest. Her whole frame shakes as she cries out, clamping down around my fingers.
When she finally stills, she drops forward with a moan, burying her face in my shoulder.
“That’s two,” she gasps, her voice muffled.
Rhett laughs low behind her, kissing her temple. “Ready for more?” he murmurs.
She turns her head just slightly, nodding. Then she sits up straighter, cups her tits in her hands, and starts to play with them right there in front of us.
What a fucking goddess! She’s so pretty it hurts.
The way her fingers tease her nipples. The way she watches us while she does it, like she’s already figured out how to destroy us both and is just deciding when to pull the trigger.
“Okay,” she pants, licking her lips. “Now take off your underwear.”
We don’t hesitate. Rhett’s boxers hit the floor. Mine follow. Her gaze drops.
She reaches for us—both of us. Her fingers wrap around our cocks, one in each hand.
“Shit,” I groan, already throbbing.
“Holy fuck,” Rhett hisses.
She strokes us slow, back and forth, her touch warm and slick from the sweat on her palms and the leftover shimmer of what she just did.
She looks like something from a painting—wild-haired, flushed, naked and kneeling on the edge of the bed with two cocks in her hands and this shy, dangerous smile.
“Who gets to start?” she asks.
I glance at Rhett. He raises a brow like, you gonna step up or what?
“I do,” I say, meeting her eyes. “But only if you’re sure. We’ve been drinking.”
She pouts instantly, then stands—completely naked—and holds her arms out like she’s taking a field sobriety test.
We both laugh. I have to cover my mouth.
She walks a perfectly straight line along the edge of the rug. Does a little spin. Grins. “See? Not drunk. Just nervous.”
“How nervous?” I ask, reaching for her waist to pull her gently back.
She shrugs, glancing down. “It’s been a while.”
“How long’s a while?”
She hesitates. “A few months. Since I’ve… you know. Done anything.”
Rhett climbs onto the bed behind her again and murmurs in her ear, “You’ve already come twice, baby. Your body knows it’s okay.”
She swats his chest with a playful laugh. “Stop.”
We both lean in to kiss her then—me on her mouth, him along her shoulder. She relaxes instantly between us, her breath softening, her hands roaming.
My cock is pressed against her hip now. She feels it. Shifts just enough to make me groan.
“I actually have something that could help,” I say against her neck.
She tilts her head. “Oh?”
I slide off the bed, dig into the drawer beside it, and pull out a small rose-colored vibrator. “Ever use one with someone before?”
Her eyes widen. “No.”
“You wanna try?”
She nods.
Rhett lays her back on the bed again while I flick it on—softest setting first. She spreads her legs automatically now, no hesitation. Her thighs fall open like a secret just for us.
I press the toy to her clit.
She jumps at first—squeals, even—but then melts.
“Oh my god, ” she moans, head tipping back.
Rhett holds her hands above her head, kissing her wrists while I work the toy in slow circles. Her whole body trembles. Her nipples are tight, her mouth slack, her legs shaking already.
She comes again. Fast. Hard. With a choked-off cry and a desperate roll of her hips.
We don’t give her time to recover.
Rhett opens the drawer, grabs two condoms, tosses one to me. We roll them on fast.
I slide between her legs. Line up. Her eyes are wide—nervous, but sparkling.
“Tell me if anything feels wrong,” I whisper.
She nods. I push in.
She gasps, arching, her nails dragging across my chest. She’s tight, warm, and already pulsing around me. I move slowly, giving her time. Inch by inch until I’m buried deep.
Her head drops back. “Oh shit .”
Rhett strokes her thigh from beside us, watching. His cock is thick and hard and waiting.
I fuck her slow. Long strokes. Deep. Letting her feel every inch. She whimpers, moans, curses.
I kiss her. “You’re perfect,” I breathe.
She clenches around me. When I feel myself edging closer, I pull out.
“Your turn,” I pant to Rhett.
He slides in with one long, practiced thrust and her head snaps back. “ Fuck. ”
Rhett’s slower than me. More controlled. He grips her hips, pulls her closer. She wraps her arms around his neck and holds on as he fucks her deep and steady.
I watch. Jerking myself slowly, teasing the edge as I wait for another turn.
She turns her head, eyes locking on mine. “Hunter…”
“Right here, baby.”
We take turns. Slow. Careful. Letting her climb again and again. The room smells like sweat and sex and her.
By the time we collapse beside her, she’s boneless. Sweaty. Flushed. Glowing.
We’re all tangled limbs and gasps and hearts pounding out of sync.
She breathes for a long minute. Then she says, “Wait. What happened to the snacks?”
I bark out a laugh. “We can totally eat them.”
Rhett wheezes against the pillow. “They’re probably still on the dresser.”
She groans. “Tonight was wild. ”
“Yeah,” I murmur, tracing a lazy circle on her hip. “It really fucking was.”
She turns to us, smirking. “So... now what?”
“Now,” I say, “we eat. Then maybe cuddle.”
“And then you take me home?”
Rhett kisses her shoulder. “Or just let us nap first. Then we’ll drive you.”
She laughs and rolls her eyes. “One nap.”
“Scout’s honor.”
We drag the snack board into bed. Naked. Lazy. Passing cheese and crackers and sliced almonds like this is normal.
She nestles between us, her head tucked under my chin, her back to Rhett’s chest. We’re skin to skin. Her hair smells like citrus and night.
“Tell us about New York,” I murmur.
She hums softly, voice already laced with sleep. “It’s loud. Beautiful…” She keeps talking. I barely catch the words because somewhere in the middle of her describing her old apartment in Brooklyn, I fall asleep—with Ivy warm in my arms and Rhett breathing behind her.
And for the first time in a long time, I don’t dream of anything else.
I wake to the sound of a phone buzzing.
At first, I think it’s a dream. Something ambient, background noise from whatever deep, satisfied place my mind drifted to after we passed out. But then it keeps going—insistent and sharp, cutting through the warmth of the room.
The bed shifts beside me.
Ivy moves slowly, limbs tangled in the sheet, her bare back sliding against my chest as she reaches toward the floor for her phone.
Her skin is still warm, still sticky from the night we gave her. There’s a faint bruise blooming at her hip where Rhett gripped her, and the sight of it stirs something low in my gut.
She answers on the third buzz, whispering, “Hello?”
I stay still, eyes half-open.
“Hey… yeah, I’m okay. I just—uh, I stayed with some friends. No, I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.” A pause. “Yeah, I’ll be back soon.”
She hangs up, then glances back over her shoulder at me. Her hair’s a tousled mess, her lips puffy, her voice rough like sandpaper. Sexy in a way that’s effortless.
“That was Brooke,” she says, tucking the phone under the pillow. “Wondering why I wasn’t home.”
Behind her, Rhett groans and stretches, one arm slung across the pillow where her head just was. His voice is raspy. “What time is it?”
“Six,” she murmurs, dragging the sheet over her chest even though we’ve already seen—and touched—every inch of her.
He yawns, rubs a hand over his face, and pushes up. His abs flex as he sits, the morning light catching the tattoos on his chest. “I’ll make breakfast.”
I prop myself up on one elbow and blink blearily at the massive windows. The ocean is silver and quiet, the city below just starting to flicker awake.
Ivy starts gathering her things from the floor. The way she moves—quiet, deliberate—tells me she’s planning to disappear without making a fuss.
“You don’t have to sneak out,” I say, voice still heavy with sleep.
She gives me a sheepish look. “I just figured I’d grab an Uber. Don’t want to bother you guys.”
Rhett and I exchange a glance. One of those wordless looks we’ve shared a hundred times in games and fights and locker rooms. It’s easy, unspoken.
He raises a brow. I nod.
We move at once.
I catch her by the wrist as she straightens, and Rhett curls an arm around her waist, pulling her gently back toward the bed.
She laughs under her breath but doesn’t resist.
“You’re not bothering us,” I say, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “Last night was…”
“Wild,” she says softly, finishing the sentence for me.
“Yeah,” I say. “But also... really fucking good.”
She bites her lip.
Rhett speaks next, his voice low and steady. “We’d be interested in doing it again. If you’re open to it.”
Ivy pauses. She looks at us like she’s memorizing the moment—the sweat-damp sheets, the warm tangle of bodies, the softness that lingers even after the high has passed.
“I’m only in Miami for the summer,” she says finally. “It can’t be… more.”
Her words aren’t cruel. They’re just honest. And I respect that.
“We’re not asking for more,” I tell her. “No labels. No complications.”
“Not unless you want it,” Rhett adds.
I nod. “Just breakfast. Maybe another round. And then we give you our numbers, and if you’re ever in the mood to do this again… you hit us up.”
She exhales slowly. Then she smiles.
“That’s fair,” she says. “That’s really fair.”
I grin. “So... one more round?”
She laughs again, the sound sweet and scratchy. “You’re insatiable.”
Rhett leans in, mouth brushing her shoulder. “You bring it out of us.”
She slides back into bed with a soft sigh, curling between us. Her fingers trail down my chest, featherlight. Her mouth finds mine—warm and pliant and tasting like morning and sleep and last night.
We start slow. But we don’t stay there.
Because the truth is, I haven’t had anything like this in years. Something unhurried and electric. Something that burns through the haze of booze and lust and feels clean somehow.
Like we could fuck her a hundred times and still not get enough.
Maybe I should be worried about that , I think to myself… but the moment her hand wraps around my cock, all I can think about is her.