Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
When I finally catch up to Hunter, he’s storming down the trail, his whole body trembling with anger. His shoulders are tight, fists clenched, jaw tense. Each furious stomp cuts a fresh wound in my heart.
“Hunter, please,” I shout, breathless. “Can we just talk?”
He whirls around, eyes blazing. “Oh, so now you want to talk to me?!”
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly, hoping he can hear the honesty in my voice. “I know this is cliché, but… it’s not you, it’s me.”
His brows shoot up. “Seriously?! That’s your excuse?”
“I’m sorry,” I repeat. I don’t know what else to say.
“You’re such a dick,” he spits.
“I told you I was,” I mutter.
Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. His face hardens as he turns away, ready to leave me standing there in the dirt. Panic seizes me. I lunge forward and grab his wrist, yanking him back.
“Let go of me,” he whines, tugging half-heartedly.
But I don’t. I keep my grip firm, locking eyes with him—his dark brown searing into me. There’s heat in his stare, full of anger, pain, and something else simmering beneath. Something dangerous. Something I want. My gaze travels down to his mouth, and an ache throbs in my chest.
The pull between us feels magnetic, inevitable, like the tide being drawn by the moon.
Hunter’s breath hitches as his lips twitch. He looks up at me, uncertain. I wonder if he can hear how loud my heart is beating in my chest, pounding against my ribs.
“You’re such a dick,” he says again, softer this time.
“I know,” I concede before closing the gap between us.
The kiss is messy and rough and fucking perfect.
My hands frame his face, thumbs brushing his smooth cheeks as I tug him closer.
His lips are plush and sweet, parting under mine as my tongue glides past them, hungry to taste all of him.
He exhales sharply when my tongue slides against his, and that sound—the low, desperate groan in his throat—sends fire ravaging through my chest.
I press forward until his back hits the rough bark of a tree, the thud breaking the rhythm of our kiss. He gasps, and I take advantage, deepening it, devouring him like I’ve wanted to since the moment I first saw him.
He grasps at my shoulders, then the back of my neck, fingers tugging on my hair. The world around us fades—the rustle of leaves, the lapping of the lake—until there’s nothing left but the two of us, burning in the quiet.
My knee slides between his legs, and he lets out a soft, helpless sound that makes my heart clench.
He’s already half-hard, straining against those impossibly tight shorts, and when he groans into the kiss—fisting my shirt and grinding down against my thigh—it takes everything in me not to lose control right there.
Fuck, this is even better than I’d imagined. I want more—but not here.
“Hunter,” I breathe against his lips, forcing myself to pull back. My pulse pounds in my ears as I drag in a shaky breath. “Wait. We can’t do this here.”
He blinks up at me, dazed and flushed, pupils blown wide. “Why not?”
“It’s… public,” I manage, glancing over his shoulder toward the trees. “Someone could see us.”
His eyes dart around the empty trail, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. “Who’s gonna see us? A squirrel?”
I shake my head, teeth clenched. “I can’t risk it.”
He swallows hard, chest rising fast. “Fine. Then let’s go somewhere private. I know a place. Come on.”
Before I can argue, he grabs my wrist and pulls me down the trail, our footsteps crunching over gravel and fallen leaves. My chest tightens as we stop in front of a small shed, its walls swallowed by moss and vines. A weathered sign hangs above the door: D.N.R. Personnel Only.
He extracts a key from his pocket and unfastens the padlock.
“What is this place?” I ask, still breathless.
“The park rangers keep equipment in here for maintaining the trails and first-aid supplies. They lent me a key this summer for emergency purposes,” he explains, pushing open the door.
The rusty hinges creak. I peek inside, eyes squinting through the dark. It smells like dirt and rust. Rakes, shovels, and coils of rope hang from the walls.
I hesitate at the threshold. “I don’t think this counts as an emergency.”
He turns back to me, something dark and daring in his eyes. “I beg to differ,” he growls before pulling me inside.
With more force than I’d expect from someone his size, Hunter shoves me against the door. My back thuds on the wood and rattles the frame. His hands slide beneath my shirt, exploring the valleys and mountains of my muscles.
His mouth finds my throat, trailing with hot kisses.
His fingers press into my hips, and the sight of his yellow-painted nails digging into my skin makes my dick jolt.
He grinds against my thigh, needy, and the friction tears a sharp and strangled moan out of me.
I slam my head against the door and bare more of my neck to him.
“Fuck,” I groan as his lips trace along my sensitive skin. “Please, kiss me.”
I hate how desperate I sound, but Hunter doesn’t hesitate. He crashes his mouth into mine, lips fierce, tongue slick and demanding. He whimpers into the kiss, body melting against me, and I can’t get him close enough—
Until suddenly, he freezes and breaks the kiss.
“Wait,” he pants. “Is this your first time? With a guy, I mean?”
My stomach knots, hands stilling on his waist. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is he trying to imply that I’m bad at this? Because judging by his boner, I’m doing a pretty damn good job.
“Why does it matter?” I snap defensively.
His face tightens. “Because I don’t hook up with straight guys. I’m not letting myself be someone’s experiment.”
“That’s not what this is,” I shoot back.
He searches my face, skeptical. “So… you’re—”
“I’m gay,” I bite out, my voice clipped with frustration.
Hunter blinks. “Oh.”
“I’m still closeted—at least in Claremont Shores. But all my friends and teammates at college knew,” I mutter. “Now shut up and kiss me.”
He hesitates for just a second before pulling me into another frantic kiss.
This one’s rougher. Messier. His hand trails down my chest, fingertips skating down the lines of my abs until he cups me through the damp fabric of my swim trunks. My hips jerk forward helplessly.
“Fuck,” he groans into my mouth, giving my cock a firm squeeze.
A smug hum slips out of me before I can stop it. I know I’m bigger than average. Still, the reaction never gets old.
His fingers hook eagerly around my waistband, but I catch his wrist.
“Hold on,” I sigh, putting some space between us. “Let me just, uh, get this out of the way first.”
I slip off my T-shirt, carefully avoiding the thin tubing at my waistline.
I disconnect my insulin pump and gently set it on top of a barrel next to me.
Hunter’s gaze follows me the entire time, watching my every movement.
His eyes finally land at the infusion site on my stomach.
Suddenly, I feel exposed in a way that has nothing to do with being half-naked.
“I’m type one diabetic,” I say flatly, trying to sound casual about it.
I brace myself for the inevitable well-intended ignorant comment.
“My grandpa has that, too.”
“That means you can’t eat sugar, right?”
“I read an article that said cinnamon cures diabetes!”
I’ve heard them all.
But Hunter just grins, soft and utterly unfazed, and says, “Alright. I’m going to suck you off now, if that’s okay.”
My brain short-circuits.
“Uh. Yeah.” I nod, maybe too fast.
He drops gracefully to his knees. His fingers hook under the waistband of my trunks and tug them down in one smooth motion. The fabric pools around my ankles, and my cock springs free—hard, aching, and already leaking.
Hunter licks his lips, clearly impressed.
Then he spits into his palm. Normally that would gross me out, but when he does it, it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed. He wraps his slick hand around me, stroking slowly. I gasp and buck into his grip, biting my lip to hold back the desperate sounds threatening to spill.
When his tongue flicks the head, my knees nearly buckle. My hands fly to his hair, fingers threading through the silky strands. Jesus, it’s so soft. What brand of conditioner does he use?
His lips seal around my cock, and all thoughts cease altogether. His hand works the base as he sinks lower, taking me deeper. He gags once, barely faltering, then keeps going, saliva spilling from the corners of his mouth.
He looks beautiful like this—on his knees, eyes closed, mouth full. I could get used to this version of him.
“Fucking hell, Hunter,” I rasp. “So good.”
My hips thrust forward without permission. I almost apologize, but then he moans around me, the vibration making my entire body shudder.
“I’m close,” I warn, voice strangled.
Instead of pulling back, he grabs my ass and forces me in deeper. His lips are slick and stretched around my cock, his cheeks hollowing with every suck. His hand slips between my legs and cups my balls, rolling them gently. My orgasm snaps through me like a riptide.
“H-Hunter—” I stutter as I come, spilling into his mouth.
He keeps going, sucking me through the waves of pleasure, swallowing every drop. My thighs tremble. I have to grab the barrel beside me to stop myself from sliding to the floor.
When he finally pulls off, his lips are shiny and red. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and looks up at me with that infuriating smirk.
“You good?” he asks.
I nod numbly, unable to find the words.
Hunter grins wider, like he’s proud of himself—and he definitely should be. Because that was more than good. That was fucking everything.
I carefully pull up my trunks and reconnect my pump. I grab Hunter’s shoulders and spin us around to switch our positions, manhandling him with ease. He’s perfect and pliant in my hands.
“My turn,” I say, falling to my knees.
He looks down at me, eyes heavy-lidded, teeth digging into the pink flesh of his lower lip.
“These fucking shorts,” I groan, fumbling with the hem. “It’s like you’re trying to kill me.”
I tug down his briefs, releasing his cock. It’s a beautiful dick—average length, uncut, surrounded by a neat trim of black hair. God, it’s been so long since I’ve touched a dick. And for some reason, this feels even more intimidating than my previous hookups.
Because it’s Hunter.
“I won’t last long,” he cautions, voice shy and shaky.
I hum. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I wrap my hand around his cock and bring my mouth to the tip, tasting the salty slickness of precome as I swallow him down. He whines, fisting my curls while I bob along his length, steady and greedy.
My hands slide to his ass, squeezing the round doughy muscles. I grope shamelessly, finally touching what I’ve been fantasizing about for weeks. Then I push him deeper into my mouth, my tongue swirling at the tip each time I pull back. His hips stutter.
“Fuck, Mason—oh my god,” he moans.
My name sounds so beautiful when he moans it like that. He says it like a prayer.
I squeeze his ass again, my thumb tracing along the crease until he lets out a sharp gasp.
“I’m so close, I—Mason—”
He spills in my mouth, legs shaking, hips bucking helplessly. I swallow his load greedily, savoring the twitch of his cock against my tongue. My eyes flutter shut as I ride out his release with him.
When I finally pull off, I lick my lips. My jaw is sore, my knees aching from kneeling on the wooden floor, but I don’t care. Not when he’s looking at me like this—eyes hazy, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.
He tugs up his shorts with unsteady hands. He looks at me hesitantly, like he’s afraid I might bolt out the door and ignore him again. It makes my heart ache.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” I admit as I stand to my feet, hoping it’ll assure him I’m not going anywhere.
His lips part, surprised. “Really?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation. I reach up, brushing damp strands of fringe behind his ear. “I meant what I said at the bar. I think you’re very pretty.”
Color floods his cheeks as he lets out a nervous laugh. “Shut up.”
“Only if you kiss me again.”
He hums thoughtfully and pretends to consider it, tapping his finger against his lips. Typical. Even when he’s flustered, he acts like a brat.
But then he leans in and kisses me, soft and sweet. My lips melt as my hand fumbles blindly with his, interlocking our fingers. I squeeze his palm gently.
When we finally separate, I rest my forehead against his.
“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” I admit. “But I need to be upfront with you. After the summer ends, I’ll have too many responsibilities, and—”
“Hey,” he cuts in, shaking his head. “It’s okay. I’m not looking for a serious relationship right now, anyway.”
I lift a brow, skeptical. “You’re not?”
“No. I’m only in town for a few more months, and I’ll be busy with grad school in the fall. Plus, I’m going to be a TA.”
“A what?”
“Teaching assistant.”
“Oh, right.”
He hesitates, then his lips twitch into a crooked grin. “But… I’d still like to hang out this summer. I like kissing you—and I wouldn’t mind doing more of that.”
I laugh, the tension in my shoulders easing. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he says, smiling so wide his eyes crinkle. “I mean, we’ve got all summer to spend time together.”
“All summer,” I echo, pecking his lips.
As we walk through the woods back to the parking lot, I hold his hand. It’s dark enough that nobody can see us. The moon shimmers across the lake and spills silver light through the trees. His palm is warm in mine as he swings our arms like we’re kids on the playground.
When we reach the edge of the lot, we both stop. Only our cars remain: his luxury spaceship car and my rusted pickup truck that’s older than me. The contrast is almost laughable, but I bite my tongue.
“So…” he says, glancing at me sideways. “I’ll text you?” His voice is softer now, like he’s not sure if that’s the right thing to do.
“Yeah. Please do.”
He gives me a crooked grin and leans in for one more kiss—just a brush of lips, lazy and warm—before jogging back to his car with a little wave. I watch him go, fingers still tingling where they touched his.
When I climb into my truck, I sit there a minute with the windows rolled down, letting the night air cool my heated skin.
This doesn’t have to be anything serious. I know that, and we both want the same thing. We drew our lines in the sand.
Still… maybe it’s selfish for me to want this. I have responsibilities. Work. Bills. A little sister to raise. A mom who can’t take care of herself, let alone anyone else. I don’t have the luxury of distractions.
But tonight, I let myself want him anyway. It’s just an innocent summer fling, and we’ll have a clean break when he goes back to college in a few months.
What harm could it do?