Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Aliyah’s cat looks like a giant rat. It’s a gray, disheveled, scrawny creature she literally found in a dumpster. His name is Paul because, according to Aliyah, giving animals human names is peak comedy.
Currently, Paul is wiggling onto my lap as I lounge on the couch in Aliyah’s apartment. He purrs like a jet engine as he headbutts my hand, demanding attention.
“Aw, don’t be rude,” Aliyah scolds from the kitchen as she prepares popcorn for our movie night. “Give Paul some love!”
I grimace. “No.”
“He’s adorable!”
“He’s… something.”
Aliyah gasps. “Watch your mouth. That’s my son you’re insulting.”
She comes back from the kitchen with two bowls of popcorn. Mine is coated in a hefty dose of ranch seasoning powder—my guilty pleasure.
Aliyah’s apartment is a perfect representation of her personality: boho eclectic, full of thrifted furniture, antiques, and random knickknacks.
The green velvet couch we’re sitting on was found on the side of the road, destined for the garbage truck.
I’ll never forget the frantic phone call where she begged me to bring my truck so she could rescue it.
She finds value in discarded things. I often think that’s why she likes me so much.
“What should we watch?” she asks, grabbing the remote.
I hum thoughtfully. Aliyah and I are both horror fanatics.
My birthday is the day before Halloween, so maybe I’ve always been drawn to spooky things.
Stephen even let me watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre with him when I was way too young—maybe six or seven years old—and I’ve been hooked on terrifying movies ever since.
After several minutes of bickering and scrolling through streaming services, we finally settle on The Shining.
As the credits roll and the ominous music swells, a tingle of adrenaline runs through me. I prop my feet on her coffee table while Aliyah drapes a throw blanket over her lap.
“So…” Aliyah smirks, eyes glinting. “How are things going with Hunter?”
“Shut up. You always talk during movies,” I hiss, shooting her a glare.
She snorts. “It hasn’t even started yet.”
I groan around a mouthful of popcorn. “The opening scene is one of the best parts. It sets the tone for the whole movie.”
She sighs and hits pause. “Happy?”
“No.” I frown and shove another popped kernel into my mouth. “I’d rather watch the movie than talk about Hunter.”
Her eyes widen as she leans toward me. “Why? Did something bad happen?”
Dropping my head back against the couch, I exhale hard. “No! We’re fine. We’re great, actually.”
Aliyah narrows her eyes. “You really like him, don’t you?”
“I guess he’s… nice.”
“Nice?” she echoes, eyebrows arched. “That’s all you’ve got?”
Heat crawls up the back of my neck. “What do you want me to say?”
She tilts her head, studying me. “I just think maybe you’re lying to yourself. Are you sure you actually want to end things next month? Because from where I’m sitting, you look pretty damn happy.”
The air in my lungs turns brittle. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” I say quietly.
“After summer ends, we’ll be living over two hundred miles apart.
He’ll be busy with grad school, and I’ll be busy raising a high schooler.
” I let out a soft, nervous laugh. “God, it’s weird to even say that out loud.
I still think of Maddie as a little kid. ”
Aliyah snorts, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, that much is obvious.”
My lips press thin. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” She waves it off, reaching for the remote.
I clamp my hand on her wrist. “No. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Mason—”
“Aliyah.” My tone leaves no room for dodging.
She exhales heavily, biting the corner of her lip as if weighing her words. “Fine. You treat Maddie like she’s still a little kid. You never really consider her thoughts or opinions.”
My shoulders tense. “That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it? Have you ever asked her what she wants? Like… if she wants a relationship with your dad?”
I swallow hard. “He’ll hurt her. I’m protecting her.”
“You don’t know that. I know he messed up in the past, but people change. Maybe he could be good for Maddie.”
A grimace twists on my lips. “That’s highly unlikely.”
Aliyah’s brown eyes sharpen, cutting right through me. “You’re being self-destructive, Mase. You keep pushing away help when it’s right in front of you.”
I stare down at my lap where Paul has taken residence, legs tucked under his body, sleeping soundly. I pet his rumpled fur to avoid Aliyah’s pestering stare. Her words settle in my chest, burning as I digest them.
Her fingers brush my arm, soft and gentle. “I’m saying this because I love you, Mase,” she adds, quieter now. “You need to understand that it’s okay to choose yourself sometimes.”
My voice scrapes up my throat, thin and unconvincing. “I know, and I love you too. I just—I don’t want to talk about it.”
Aliyah studies me for a long moment, like she’s not sure whether to push harder. Then, she sighs with defeat and presses play. The movie starts up again, the music filling the silence between us.
I keep petting Paul and munching on popcorn. I pretend I’m watching the screen, but all I can hear are Aliyah’s words echoing louder than the film.
Halfway through the movie, my phone buzzes against my thigh. I fish it out, shielding the glowing screen from Aliyah’s wandering eyes.
Hunter: Hey! What are you doing?
I smile to myself, running a hand over the cat in my lap.
Mason: cuddling w/ paul.
Hunter: …Who the hell is Paul??? You said you weren’t hooking up with anyone else?
Well, shit. He sounds legitimately upset. I quickly send him a picture of Paul sprawled across my lap, his half-matted fur sticking up in every direction.
Mason: meet aliyah's cat, paul
Three dots appear, then vanish. Then—
Hunter: I hate you.
Mason: were u jealous?
Hunter: No. He looks like he has rabies.
Mason: rude. ur just mad he’s in my lap instead of u ;)
Hunter: Whatever. Do you have plans after hanging out with Aliyah?
Mason: nope. want me to come over? u can sit in my lap. ;)
Hunter: Yeah, sure. I’ll do a better job than Paul.
A laugh slips out before I can stop it.
Aliyah’s elbow nudges my stomach. “Let me guess. Hunter?” she asks.
I clear my throat, tucking my phone to my chest. “Maybe.”
She smiles knowingly before returning her attention to the movie, but I can’t focus. I shovel popcorn into my mouth, my molars grinding together with each bite.
Maybe Aliyah’s right. Maybe I don’t know how to choose myself.
But at least for the remainder of the summer, I can choose to have fun.
***
Not that Hunter was ever bad at sucking dick, but throughout the summer, his skills have improved. He’s a quick study. When he sets his mind to something, he practices until he masters it—whether it’s academics or deep-throating me.
Right now, I’m sprawled on his couch with his head between my thighs, bobbing on my cock. My fingers curl in his hair, tugging gently, grounding myself in him.
He eases back to flick the head with soft kitten licks, deliberate and reverent, like he’s worshipping me. A shiver rattles through me, my breath catching as I fight the urge to thrust into his mouth.
When I walked through his door minutes ago, he started stripping me before I’d even set my keys down. He made it very clear he wanted to be in charge tonight.
His tongue swirls along my length before he sinks down again, swallowing me to the base. His gaze locks on mine—dark, burning, smug with control.
“Hunter,” I groan, fisting his hair. “Need to fuck you.”
He hums around me, the vibration ricocheting through my body, my thighs trembling. My cock leaves the wet heat of his mouth, and he quickly replaces it with his fist, pumping me in a slow, torturous rhythm.
“Say please,” he drawls, head tilted with a cocky smirk on his lips.
I swallow hard. “Please.”
His thumb brushes over my slit, sliding through a bead of precome. I bite back a whimper, staring down at him in agony. He’s infuriatingly beautiful, kneeling in the golden glow of lamplight. His collarbones peek through the wide neck of his T-shirt, begging to be marked up by my teeth.
“Please,” I repeat, not caring how desperate I sound.
His smirk widens. “Good boy.”
Holy fuck. He’s going to ruin me.
Hunter tears open a condom, rolls it down my length, and shoves off his briefs. His erection juts beneath the hem of his shirt as he straddles my lap, hands braced on my shoulders.
“Wait,” I gasp, catching his wrist. “Let me prep you first.”
He shakes his head. “Already took care of it in the shower earlier.”
The mental image makes my cock twitch—Hunter’s fingers buried inside himself, stretching open just for me.
He sinks onto me inch by inch, teasingly slow, biting his lip as his body swallows me. His slick heat strangles my shaft, sending ripples of pleasure through me. When he bottoms out, he tugs on my curls, squeezing his thighs around me.
“So fucking tight,” I groan, teeth clenched. “You feel incredible.”
I clutch his ass, kneading the soft flesh as he begins to ride me—gently rocking back and forth, each swivel of his hips dragging me deeper inside.
“This is my lap and my cock,” he growls, grabbing my chin firmly. “Say it.”
“It’s yours. I’m all yours,” I choke out, and I mean it.
He gives a soft, content hum. “That’s right.”
He grinds on my lap harder, a wet spot spreading on his T-shirt as his cock drags against it. When he finds the angle he’s chasing, his pace falters, hips stuttering. His nails dig into my shoulders, sharp enough to sting.
“That’s it, pretty boy. Ride me,” I rasp, nipping at his earlobe.
He bounces on my cock faster, desperate and erratic, as sharp little gasps leak from his kiss-swollen lips. His head tips back with a broken moan. I mouth at his throat, sucking at the damp skin to taste him.
“Mmm—fuuuuuck,” he groans, trembling as he clenches around me.
I nibble his collarbone. “I’m so close.”
He glares down at me. “No. You don’t come until I do.”
Fucking hell. Bossy looks good on him.
I slide a hand under his shirt and grip his slick cock. He bucks into my palm, leaking for me.
“You’re dripping, Hunt. So fucking needy.”
His eyes roll back, his pace turning frantic, fucking himself on me while rutting into my fist.
“Mase—fuck me—I’m almost there,” he whines.
I slam my hips up, burying myself deep. He collapses against me, our sweaty chests pressed together as he wraps his arms around my neck. He kisses me messily, a frantic collision of teeth and tongue.
“Give it to me,” I growl against his lips. “Come on my cock.”
Whimpering into my mouth, he releases in my fist, splattering hot against my fingers. His body pulses around me, milking me until I can’t hold back any longer.
Gasping, I grip him tight and thrust as deep as I can, spilling into the condom with my face buried in his neck. His skin tastes like sweat and salt.
For a moment, all I can do is hold him—both of us panting, spent, and clinging to each other.
He doesn’t let me pull out right away. He just sits there, pressed against me with a sticky mess drying between us, catching his breath.
My fingers brush across his back, tracing mindless patterns on his smooth skin.
“That was really hot—seeing you like that,” I mutter softly.
He looks up through heavy-lidded eyes. “Dominant?”
I push his fringe back, tucking it behind his ear. “No. Confident.”
He ducks his head to hide his blush. “Shut up.”
I cup his jaw, lifting until he meets my gaze again. “You truly have no idea how sexy you are, do you?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
He laughs softly, the sound caught somewhere between disbelief and embarrassment. I can tell he doesn’t fully trust my words, and it makes my chest ache.
“When you walk into a room and everyone looks at you,” I whisper, “you don’t even notice. But I do. Every time. And it drives me insane.”
“Enough,” he pleads, cheeks flushed, silencing me with a quick peck. “You’re just saying that because you’re experiencing post-nut bliss.”
I shake my head, smirking. “No. It’s the truth, Hunt.”
He just rolls his eyes and nuzzles his face into my neck. “Whatever.”
With a reluctant groan, Hunter untangles himself from me and eases off my lap, my softening cock slipping free. He peels off the condom and disappears into the bathroom to toss it. When he returns, he rummages through the pocket of his jeans on the floor and pulls something out—a business card.
He presses it into my palm, and my eyes catch on the name printed in neat serif font: Margaret Hawkins, Family Lawyer.
“I talked to my mom about your situation,” he says quietly. “Margaret’s a friend of hers. My mom gave her son an internship at her firm recently, so… she owes us a favor. She said she’d take your case, free of charge.”
My heart pounds, painful and grateful at the same time. “Thank you,” I whisper.
He shrugs and leans down to brush a soft kiss over my lips. “No problem. I’m gonna shower,” he mutters, slipping away.
I watch him walk toward the bathroom, his hips swaying with each step, and my chest feels like it’s caving in.
Hunter has me wrapped around his finger, and as much as I want to pretend this will last, I know it won’t. The storm is already rolling in—the end of summer, the part where he leaves and I stay behind.
Right now, being with Hunter feels steady like an anchor. But I know the second he’s gone, I’ll be on my own again, treading water in a lake too deep. And the truth is, I don’t know how I’ll fight the undertow without him.