CHAPTER 11 – DEEPENING BONDS #2
The drive is mostly silent, except for the sports radio that Hunter pretends to listen to.
I sit with my hands in my lap, the window rolled down an inch so I can taste the cold.
Minneapolis outside the car is a patchwork of melting snow and exhaust. Every time we stop at a light, I count the number of people I see wearing puffy jackets and weird, knitted hats—usually four or five, sometimes more.
The city feels like it’s holding its breath.
We get to Lake Harriet and park at the southern lot, which is half-empty and scattered with little piles of dirty snow.
The wind comes off the water sharp and fast, stinging my cheeks, but I like it.
I want to feel awake, to know I’m really here.
Hunter helps me out of the car, fingers brushing my wrist, then shoves his hands in his pockets.
There’s a paved path that rings the whole lake.
In spring, people come out to run or push strollers, but today it’s just us and some geese.
The birds are everywhere, pecking through the grass, honking at each other, leaving slick green trails in the snow.
I laugh the first time one squawks, loud and rude, but the sound is weirdly comforting.
Geese have no past, no future. They just eat and poop and honk and never worry about memory loss.
We start walking. Our shoes crunch on the gravel, and every few yards there’s a patch of slush or a puddle from the thaw.
I sidestep one, but Hunter just stomps through, like he needs to feel the cold even more than I do.
I wrap my arms around myself and watch the light move on the water, the way it shifts from gray to blue and back with every gust of wind.
For a while, neither of us talks.
It’s not awkward, exactly. Just silence. Like if we open our mouths, the whole world will come pouring out, and yet we don’t know what to say.
The air is full of little sounds: branches creaking, ice shifting on the shoreline, the far-off hum of a snowblower. There’s an old wooden dock up ahead, slick with wet leaves, and I’m drawn to it. I want to go to the end and stand where the lake is the only thing between me and sky.
I move off the path and step onto the dock. It rocks under my weight. I go to the edge, toes right at the lip, and look down. The water is flat and dark and glassy, with patches of ice still floating near the shore. My breath comes in a cloud, then vanishes.
I close my eyes.
A flash: I’m in the water. The lake is green and cold.
I’m swimming, or trying to, but I’m not alone.
There are voices—loud, urgent—and someone’s hand on my arm, pulling me up.
My chest is tight, my heart pounding. There’s a scream, or maybe it’s just the sound of my own lungs trying to work.
I break the surface and suck in air, and the world explodes in light and sound and—
I stagger, almost slip.
Hunter’s there in two strides. He grabs my arm, steadies me, then keeps his hand on my elbow. His grip is strong and careful, like he’s holding a fragile thing that could shatter if he pushes too hard.
“You good?” he says, low.
I nod, not trusting my voice.
He doesn’t let go.
I stare at the lake. The water is beautiful. I want to be afraid, but I’m not. I want to jump in, just to prove that I can. I want to strip off my coat and dive, let the cold burn through everything until there’s nothing left to remember.
Instead, I just stand there, letting the wind whip my hair across my face.
After a while, Hunter pulls me back. We walk the rest of the loop in silence, his hand on the small of my back, thumb moving in slow circles.
“We almost lost you there for a sec,” he says in a low voice.
“No, I’m okay,” I reply brightly. “I was never in danger.”
Hunter shakes his head. When we get to the car, he opens the door and helps me in. His fingers linger at my waist, and he looks at me for a long time before he shuts the door.
I watch him walk around the hood, his jaw like granite, his eyes narrowed against the sun. For a second, I think he’s going to say something because he has something on his mind, but he just gets in and starts the engine.
The drive home is quiet.
But the memory of the lake follows me all the way back to the penthouse. A deep, cold ache that’s half warning, half promise.
I think: If I go back to that water, I might remember everything.
Or maybe I’ll just let myself sink.
Back at the penthouse, I pretend the world is only glass and blue and gold, and that nothing strange happened at the lake.
Hunter’s quiet, weirdly so, as he unlocks the door and ushers me inside.
The place feels emptier than before, like a stage after the play is over.
My boots click on the tile, the echo chasing me through the living room.
I’m still wearing the white sweater from this morning.
The sleeves are too long, swallowing my hands.
I go to the window, lean my forehead against the cold.
The city glows below: a million tiny lights, none of them real, just signals bounced off satellites and reflected back.
I close my eyes, press harder, wishing the cold could sink all the way in.
I don’t hear Hunter come up behind me, but I know he’s there. I feel the heat of him, the way his breathing changes the air.
He puts his hand on my waist, fingers splayed. The other cups my shoulder. He presses forward, so I’m flush against the window, trapped between the city and his body.
“I almost lost you, Daisy,” he rasps, voice soft but absolute. “I almost lost it when I thought you were going in, and then I thought about dying myself.”
I twist, but he doesn’t let go. He tugs my sweater up, slow, deliberate, exposing bare skin inch by inch.
When it’s off, he tosses it onto a chair.
My nipples go hard, instantly, from the chill and the way he’s looking at me with obsession in those blue eyes.
He undoes my jeans, pushes them down, then runs his hands up the backs of my thighs, squeezing. I shiver, but not from cold this time.
He kisses my neck, bites just below my ear. His hands are everywhere, rough and careful, always stopping just short of what I need.
“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, licking the shell of my ear. “You know that, right? Don’t ever leave me.”
I can’t answer. My mouth is dry, my head spinning from the whiplash of the lake, the memory, and now this.
He turns me to face him, palms flat on my ribcage. His eyes are dark, stormy, the blue almost black in this light. He lifts me, literally lifts me, and sits me on the wide windowsill. I feel small, breakable, like a glass of water about to tip over.
Hunter kisses me, hard, and I taste the bitterness of his coffee, the salt of my own skin.
His tongue is greedy, claiming, but not unkind.
I grab his shoulders, holding on like I might fall.
He unhooks my bra with a single twist, lets it fall.
My huge tits bounce free, and he groans, biting down on the curve of one, then sucking the nipple deep until I arch into him.
“Fuck Daisy,” he says, voice thick. “What would I do without you?”
The words make my heart squeeze, an actual ache. I spread my legs, letting his big body slide between. He rubs a thumb over my nipple, then licks a wet trail down my stomach.
He drops to his knees.
The windows are so clean I can see my own reflection: blonde hair mussed, skin flushed, lips parted. I watch as Hunter spreads my legs, then drags his tongue up the inside of my thigh, slow as molasses.
“Oh,” I sigh blissfully, running my fingers through his dark hair. “Yes.”
He buries his face in my pussy. His tongue is hot and clever, swirling and flicking until I gasp.
He wraps his arms around my thighs, pinning me to the glass, and fucks me with his mouth until I’m shaking, crying out, so close to coming I could die from it.
My inner channel clenches, almost bursting, as I tweak my nipples, just about to climax.
But Hunter pulls away before I tip over, leaving me panting and desperate.
He stands, hands on my hips, and lifts me off the sill. I’m too small to fight him, even if I wanted to. He carries me to the leather sofa, lays me face-down, and groans, taking in my moist slit and tempting back buttonhole.
“Fuck,” he curses.
There’s a pause. I hear him open a drawer, the faint sound of a cap snapping open. Then his hands are back, slick and strong, rubbing sticky gel between my ass cheeks.
“You’re beautiful, Daisy,” he rasps, kneeling and then spreading my buttocks wide with both hands. I hear the soft slap of his cock against his palm, then the slow, relentless press as he pushes inside my ass.
I brace my arms against the cushions, grit my teeth against the first sharp burn. It hurts, but not enough to make me cry out because I want this. I want Hunter to ruin me, to fill me so full there’s no room for fear or memory or anything but him.
“Relax,” he says, his voice in my ear. “Breathe, sweetheart. I’ve got you. Push out with your bottom because it’ll go in easier that way.”
I try, mewling and straining as he sinks a bit deeper with every second, working himself into my ass. The pain fades, replaced by a dizzy stretch, then a heat that goes straight to my pussy. I push back against him, mewling, and he groans, grabbing my hips in both hands.
“That’s it,” he says as his balls kiss my pussy. “Such a good girl for me.”
Hunter thrusts harder, the slap of his body against mine echoing in the glass. I hear the sound and know I’ll never forget it. My anus is on fire, but so is the rest of me because it feels so good to have his cock buried in my rectum. I feel so claimed, and yet like I’m claiming him too.
His hand slides between my legs, finds my clit, rubs in rough circles, and that does it.
I’ve never experienced deep anal sex before, and it’s too much.
I shatter in an instant, the orgasm tearing through me like a rip in the world.
I scream, hoarse and guttural, as my pussy clenches around nothing, my asshole dissolving in ripples around him.
“Yes,” he groans. “You’re my little buttslut, sweetheart. Daddy’s naughty little buttslut who needs her asshole crammed full to be happy.”
He fucks me through it, never letting up, until I collapse, sobbing into the cushions.
“Oh Daddy yes!” I cry out. “Yes yes yes!”
But instead of letting me rest, the alpha male pulls out, still hard, and turns me over.
I’m limp, boneless, but he isn’t done. He kisses me, fierce and desperate, then strokes himself and pushes his dick into my mouth.
My cheeks bulge as my eyes go wide, surprised by this quick move.
But Hunter merely croons, looking down at me while stroking my blonde head.
“Yes baby,” he rasps. “Do you like the taste of your ass on my dick? Does that turn you on?”
I do, and I suck hungrily, looking up at him with worshipful eyes as I circle my tongue around his cock.
“Yes Daddy,” I pant. “Mmm, I love the stanky taste of ass to mouth action. Mmm, it’s so good. Give me more.”
The dirty words do it and with a cry, Hunter ejaculates deep down my throat.
The hot splash is shocking, almost overwhelming, but I love it.
I want him to mark me, inside and out, choking and swallowing with maximum effort.
There’s too much though, and white liquid spills out from my lips, dripping down my chin.
“Fuck,” he rasps, pulsing deep while looking down into my eyes. “You look so good drinking my sperm, baby.”
I mewl my answer, still swallowing because I feel loved. I feel complete. I feel like his woman, and this is exactly where I want to be.
For a long time, we just breathe before he slips out of my mouth. Then, Hunter gathers me in his arms, carries me to the rug in front of the fire, and wraps a blanket around us. My hair is stuck to my face, my skin sticky with sweat and come, but I’ve never felt more wanted. More alive.
We lie there, tangled together, watching the city spin below us.
I trace the line of his jaw, the stubble, the faint scar under his lip.
“Why haven’t you claimed me where it counts?” I ask, soft. “You know that vaginal sex is what you paid for.”
Hunter cups my cheek, his thumb tracing the delicate skin. “I paid for all of this, sweetheart. All of your holes belong to me, not just your pussy cherry. But I want you to gift it to me,” he says, his tone going serious. “Willingly.”
My chest tightens. “But you bought me at auction. It’s your right.”
He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Yes, you belong to me because I won you. But your pussy virginity? That’s yours to surrender, Daisy.
I want it to be your choice, no matter the price I paid, because a girl can never get it back once it’s gone.
Once your hymen is broken, it’s gone forever, sweetheart. So I want you to decide.”
I don’t know what to say. I press my face into his chest, breathe in the smell of his skin, as my mind circles.
This man can do anything he wants to my body. He paid $20 million for the privilege.
Yet Hunter wants me to make the choice, and I adore him for it. He wants me to give him the okay, and I already know what my answer will be.
We fall asleep like that, on the rug, the city lights swimming through the window. My ass aches, my clit tingles, and my heart feels like it’s blossoming inside my chest.
If this is surrender, then I want to lose everything.
But a tiny part of me is terrified for when the memories come back.
Because what if I have to choose between the girl I was and the girl Hunter’s teaching me to be?
What if I want both?
What if the only way to keep him is to stay lost forever?