33. Ella
Thirty Three
Ella
Hunter’s stance on the line was pure predator. Knees bent, muscles humming, eyes locked dead ahead. Sunlight spilled over his shoulders, turning every bead of sweat into something indecent.
I lifted my phone like an official timer and dropped into my best announcer voice.
“And Hunter Rhodes comes in at a … meh. I’ve seen faster turtles.”
He shot me a glare over his shoulder. One of those slow, lethal ones promising retaliation.
Yes, please.
Then he pushed off the line. Forty yards of pure, terrifying speed, legs eating the ground like he had something to prove.
“Four point six!” I yelled when he crossed the line, squinting at my screen. “Congratulations, you’re officially faster than most senior citizens.”
Hunter didn’t stop. He just turned, closed the gap in three strides, and scooped me up mid-laugh. My legs dangled like I weighed nothing, even though I was six-one and all muscle from years of tennis.
He didn’t even bat an eyelid. Hunter was solid, steady, and unshakable. It was like being picked up by a human fortress. But God , he was so much more than tall.
Every inch of his impressive body was thick, husky and stronger than anyone had a right to be.
“Say it again,” he growled, tossing me over his shoulder, my phone dangling from my fingers as I squealed.
“Hunter! Ew! You’re disgusting! Oh my God, put me down—”
“Say it.” When his palm connected with my ass, my stomach fluttered and my pussy throbbed with excitement.
“Fine! You’re the fastest man alive !” I choked out between laughter. “Are you happy, Usain Bolt?”
“Closer.” His voice dropped low, rough against my ear.
Then he spun me down, and before I could get my bearings, his mouth was on mine. Hard. Stolen. The kind of kiss that didn’t care who was watching, or if anyone was watching at all.
By the time he let me breathe, my legs were trembling, and I wasn’t even the one running drills.
After Hunter decided he’d trained enough, he ducked into the locker room to grab his stuff. I lingered outside scrolling on my phone, lurking through social media.
The hallway smelled like sweat and turf, but it was still quiet in these corridors, with official practice not having started yet.
The sound of cleats clacking on the floor made me look up. I spotted Kai, a transfer student who would be one of Dom’s new teammates this coming season, strolling toward me with an easy smile.
“Hey, Ella, right?” He leaned against the wall, easy and casual. “How’s it going?”
I returned his smile with one of my own. “Pretty good. You?”
“Living the dream.” He chuckled, tugging at the collar of his training tee. “You waiting for Hunter?”
“Yup. He’s been training like a maniac for the Combine.”
“Ah, yeah. I’ve seen him working with my uncle. You’re a student athlete too, right?” He eyed me curiously.
“Guilty,” I said, lifting a shoulder. “Been playing tennis since I was a kid.”
“Respect. You must have insane footwork.” His gaze flicked toward my sneakers, then back up with a teasing tilt to his mouth. “Ever thought about trading tennis for rugby?”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Pretty sure I’d get flattened in five seconds.”
“Nah.” He smirked. “You’ve got the speed and the balance. Half the guys out there can’t even stay upright after a tackle.”
I raised a singular brow. “So your sales pitch is ‘come get tackled by angry men twice your size’?”
Kai grinned wider. “Exactly. You’d kill it, though. Low center of gravity, fast reactions. You’d be hell on the wings.”
“Appreciate the vote of confidence,” I said, laughing. “But I think I’ll stick to a sport where no one’s trying to knock me unconscious.”
And then the air shifted.
Hunter appeared like a storm wrapped in black compression and muscle, sliding between us so fast I almost stumbled. His arm hooked around my waist, pulling me flush against him like I was his oxygen.
“She’s not trading anything,” he said in a dark voice.
The temperature in the hallway plummeted. Kai’s hands shot up in surrender, the easy grin never faltering. “Relax, man. We’re just talking.”
Hunter didn’t even blink. His jaw flexed once, twice. Then he grabbed my hand like it was a lifeline — or a handcuff — and hauled me toward the exit without so much as a “bye” to Kai.
Subtlety? Never heard of her .
I threw a quick wave over my shoulder, hoping Kai would catch it.
The slam of the locker room door echoed behind us, and Hunter didn’t stop until we hit the parking lot. His grip stayed locked, letting go was obviously not an option.
Long strides ate up the concrete while my heart tried to catch up.
By the time we reached his truck, the sunset had dipped behind the stadium lights, bleeding the sky orange and bruised purple. He yanked open the driver’s side, motioned me in without a word, and climbed in after me.
The door shut with a heavy thunk that sounded like a period on the conversation we didn’t have. For a long beat, he just sat there, staring straight ahead, fingers drumming on the steering wheel like something was crawling under his skin.
“Spit it out,” I said finally, licking my lips nervously.
His jaw twitched once before he glanced over, eyes burning like they had all afternoon.
“I want you at the Combine.”
I blinked. “In Indianapolis? That’s, like, next week.”
“I know. Look…” He blew out a breath, looking up before scrubbing a hand down his face.
“For me, it’s not just about scouts.” His voice dropped, low and absolute. “It’s about who’s watching from the bleachers.”
My laugh came out breathless. “Let me guess, you want to show off in spandex?”
“I want to know you’re in the room,” he said bluntly. “That’s all.”
The way he said it, steady and certain, hit deeper than I expected. Like me being there wasn’t just a want, but a need. My chest ached, tight with something I wouldn’t allow myself to name yet.
“Okay,” I whispered, because what else could I say? Hunter wanted me, needed me by his side, and that was where I’d be.
“Good,” he muttered roughly, meeting my eyes, the passion burning in the gray depths setting me aflame.
His grip on the steering wheel flexed hard enough to make the leather creak. Silence settled heavy in the truck as he put it in drive and pulled out of the parking lot.
The low hum of the engine and the pounding of my own pulse were all I could hear. I stole a glance at him. Jaw locked, knuckles white, eyes fixed on the road like looking at me might be his undoing.
Five miles later, he finally spoke in a low voice, shredded with restraint.
“I need you.”
Not want. Need .
The word skated down my spine like a match strike, heat catching everywhere it touched.
Before I could respond, his hand shifted from the wheel to my thigh, big, rough, and hot, sliding high enough to make my breath hitch. His thumb dragged along my bare skin, slow and deliberate.
“Unbuckle,” he ordered without looking at me, his words slicing sharply through the air.
My heart slammed into my ribs. “Hunter—”
“ Now , Ella.”
The way he said my name left no oxygen in the cab. My fingers fumbled with the buckle, the click echoing in the confined space.
“That’s my girl,” he muttered. Hunter Rhodes had wrecked me before I’d even touched him.
He pushed his gym shorts down with one sharp shove, and there he was. Thick. Heavy. Already straining like this wasn’t a new thought, but something he’d been choking on for miles.
My heart was pounding so loud it drowned out the engine. His cock was right there, flushed and so hard it made my throat ache just looking at him.
“Hunter…”
“Love it when you say my name, baby, but right now I want to hear something else,” he said, voice like gravel as his foot pressed the gas harder.
Jesus Christ. My pussy clenched around nothing, empty and greedy for him already.
I gripped him before I could think, and fuck, the hot, solid weight in my palm, twitching like it had a pulse all its own, had me feral.
“Open your pretty mouth, Ella.” His voice was still calm, still dripping with his usual control that always sent shivers down my spine.
I bent, licking up the thick vein running his length, slowly, just to feel him jerk under my tongue, until I hit the metal of his piercing. His hand left the wheel for half a second to fist in my hair and hold me there.
“Don’t tease me right now,” he ground out, hips shifting up in warning.
I wrapped my lips around the tip, and the low, broken sound he made stoked the fire in my core. Sucking harder, I swallowed him down until the head of his fat cock bumped the back of my throat.
Tears pricked my eyes as he groaned deep in his chest, his grip on my hair tightening until pain sparked sweet and sharp at my scalp.
“Fuck! Just like that.” His voice cracked, raw and filthy. “You’re taking me so well, baby. Never seen anything so pretty. You were made to suck my cock.”
His powerful thighs flexed under me as I hollowed my cheeks and took more, more , until spit slicked my lips and dripped down his length to his balls.
Eyes watering, mouth stretched, his cock filling every inch of my mouth.
“Fuuuuuck!” With a choked groan, his hips jerked once, twice, no warning before he shoved deep, holding me there as heat flooded my throat in hot, brutal pulses.
I swallowed, not because there was no other choice, but because I couldn’t get enough of him. My lungs screamed, my scalp burned, and I swear I came from the sound he made alone.
A strangled growl like he was breaking apart and holding on at the same time.
When he finally let me go, I collapsed back in the seat, chin wet and lips swollen. It felt like my heart was trying to climb out of my chest.
He glanced at me, jaw still tight, sweat sliding down his temple.
“Indianapolis,” he rasped. “You’re coming.”
Like there was ever a universe where I’d tell him no.
By the time we pulled into the driveway, the air inside the truck was charged and thick with lust and need. His taste still coated my tongue, and my thighs were shaking.