CHAPTER 18 – BUILDING A NEW LIFE #2
The Daisy Cafe is smaller than I remember. The windows are fogged with steam and cinnamon, the counter sticky with old syrup. It smells like burned toast and vanilla lattes—a comfort and a warning, both at once.
I push open the door and the bell chimes, high and shrill.
Janine is at the register, hair even blonder than last year, bangs cut straight across her forehead like she’s auditioning for a retro ad campaign.
The girl is gorgeous, with sassy pin-up vibes made even more alluring by her va-va-voom figure.
She looks up, blinks, and then her eyes go wide.
“Oh my god. Tara?”
I grin. “Hey, Janine. Long time no see.”
She vaults over the counter and hugs me, honeysuckle perfume and all. “Girl, where have you been? We thought you got abducted by, like, a cult or something.”
I grin. “No cults. Just life.”
Behind the espresso machine, the twins—Kara and Jamie, always in matching eyeliner—exchange a look. Jamie says, “You didn’t even pick up your last paycheck, you know.”
“I know, but I worked it out with management,” I say in a vague tone.
Janine gives me a once-over, head to toe. “You look different, girlfriend! Something’s changed.”
It’s not a compliment or an insult. Just an observation.
I take a seat at my old corner table and let her bring me a free latte. The foam art is a daisy, of course, and she waits until I take a sip before she says, “Seriously, where have you been?”
I keep my smile light. “There was a car accident. I lost my memory for a bit. Had to put everything on pause while I got it sorted.”
Janine’s eyes widen, leaning close. “And you’re okay now?”
“Yeah. I am.” I stir my drink. “I’m taking classes at the U. Psychology, mostly.”
The pretty blonde whispers, conspiratorial. “Is it true you’re dating that guy from the paper?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Which guy? There are a lot of guys. Elon Musk, no. Mark Zuckerberg, no”
She rolls her eyes. “No, Hunter McCarren! The billionaire founder of Justify AI. His company’s soaring right now, and girl, we’re all wondering how you snagged him. I mean, good job. You went from minimum wage to maximum everything in, like, six months.”
I laugh, cheeks coloring. “It’s not like that.”
“Yeah, but you glow.” Janine nudges my arm. “You’re, like, radiating happiness. Girl, are you pregnant?”
The words hit, and my mind comes to a screeching halt. Oh my god, am I? Hunter and I use protection, but there were a few times when we forgot, and he’s a virile alpha male. Holy cow, maybe I’m expecting. But I can’t let on, and just wink and say, “Recovery will do that to a girl.”
We catch up in quick bursts—who’s dating whom, who got fired, which customer is banned for life. The gossip is the same, but I feel separate from it, like I’m watching my old life through glass. It’s sweet, but I’m not hungry for it.
When the rush hits, Janine gets pulled back behind the counter. She waves me off, but not before whispering, “Text me sometime. For real.”
I finish my drink and leave a five on the table, even though I know she’ll try to give it back.
As I push out into the cold, I text Hunter: On my way home. Pool?
The answer comes before I even hit the crosswalk: Always.
And just like that, I’m running. Because there’s no part of my old life that can hold me anymore, not when a handsome man is waiting, bare skin and bronzed body, up on the top floor.
I step into the pool house, and the humid air hits me instantly—chlorine, lemon oil, and hydrangea.
The pool is a clear blue, tiled from end to end, sunlight trickling through glass and making the water flicker on the ceiling.
Hunter’s inside, waiting for me, handsome, muscular and predatory in swim trunks that show off his sculpted physique and massive package.
There’s always this moment, right when I see him, when I think that this man will be the end of me. I absolutely love it.
I drop my bag by the door and walk barefoot onto the slick tile. He’s waiting at the far end, shoulders broad, abs tight, feet braced like a lifeguard. With a smile, Hunter crooks his finger. Come here, baby.
I’m still in my jeans and my favorite thrifted tee, but the pool area is private, soundproofed, ours. I move slow, letting him watch. The heat in his stare could set the water boiling.
“You swim already?” I ask, just to hear my voice bounce off the tile.
He shakes his head. “I was waiting for you.”
My pussy’s tingling already. “What if I got lost coming home from school?”
He grins, not even hiding it. “I’d come find you, sweetheart. You can’t escape me.” He pushes off the wall and comes toward me, easy and smooth, all muscle and want. “But yes, you’re late.”
“I stopped at the cafe.” I sit on a lounger, crossing my arms. “Had to see what I was missing.”
He stands over me, towering like a colossal statue. “And?”
I look up, and smile sweetly. “I like it better here.”
He bends down, hands on either side of the chair, and kisses me—gentle, at first, but quickly deeper, hungrier. He tastes like spearmint and salt and the heat of an aroused male animal.
I break away just long enough to murmur, “We’ll break the chair if we do it here.”
He shrugs. “That’s the idea.”
His mouth finds my jaw, my throat, my collarbone. He pulls my shirt over my head, slow, raising my arms, his lips never leaving my skin. When he gets to my bra, he unhooks it one-handed, tosses it aside, and mouths my big breasts, tongue flicking, teeth catching at the edge of sensation.
“Shit baby, are your tits growing? I’ve never seen breasts this big on a girl so young.”
I shiver, and not from cold.
“I don’t know, maybe? Mm, that feels so good!”
Hunter kisses down, tracing every rib. He kneels and undoes my jeans, pulling them off inch by inch, baring my ass and thighs, making a show of savoring every part of me. The lounge chair creaks under our weight.
He tosses my jeans, then lifts my legs and drapes them over his shoulders, licking a slow line up my inner thigh until I gasp.
“I missed you,” he murmurs, kissing right at the seam of my panties. “You have no idea.”
I arch, daring him. “Show me, then.”
He doesn’t hesitate. He slides my panties off and buries his face between my legs, tongue hot and greedy.
I dig my heels into his shoulders, hands grabbing for his wet hair, moaning as he teases and torments my slick folds, never giving me quite enough.
My hips jerk up, and he holds me down, his hands strong and gentle at the same time.
“Oh!” I pant. “Yes, there, there!”
He licks and sucks until I’m shaking, begging, right on the edge, and only then does he stop. He stands, his trunks tented with need, and kisses me hard, letting me taste myself.
“Now,” he says, “you’re ready.”
He lifts me easily, like I weigh nothing, and carries me to the edge of the pool. The water sparkles, blue and inviting, and the sun makes his skin look carved from bronze. He slides me in, slow, and then wades in after, hands on my waist, legs tangling with mine.
I wrap my arms around his neck and let the water buoy me, pressing every curve of me against him.
It feels so naughty to be nude in the pool, even though we have sex in the water all the time.
Hunter’s cock is thick and hard under the suit, and I grind against it, watching his jaw clench with restraint.
“Take it off,” I whisper.
He pulls the suit down, freeing his cock. It floats between us, hot and thick, and I shiver with want.
“Turn around,” he commands, and I do, bracing my arms on the edge, my ass bobbing just above the waterline.
I feel him behind me, pressing the head of his cock to my tight asshole, teasing my back door.
It’s not a new sensation—he’s had me every way possible, and I love the way he claims me, hard and deep.
“Ready?” he asks, voice low.
I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
He pushes against my pink clench, slow at first, stretching me open until I moan. The water helps, but it’s still a lot, and he knows it. He holds still, letting me adjust, kissing my shoulders and the back of my neck, whispering dirty nothings that make my pussy clench, empty and aching for more.
“Fuck baby,” he rasps. “You have such a hungry asshole, you know that? How do you even sit when your butthole’s being ravaged by my cock multiple times a day?”
His words are true because Hunter loves anal, and I love giving it to him.
But practice makes perfect, and once I’m relaxed, he starts to move, fucking my ass in slow, deliberate thrusts, making the water slosh around us.
I reach between my legs, fingering myself, desperate for something inside.
The pleasure is sharp, almost too much, but I want it, crave it.
Hunter grips my hips and pulls me back onto him, the slap of skin on skin echoing in the steamy air.
“Your asshole’s so fucking tight,” he growls. “You love this, don’t you?”
I whimper, “Yes. Please. Don’t stop.”
He fucks me harder, faster, and I feel myself slipping toward orgasm. My pussy clenches on nothing, desperate to be filled, and I finger myself furiously, the motion making me sob with need.
He pulls out suddenly, turning me to face him, and lifts me in the water, impaling me on his cock. This time, he goes in my pussy, and the stretch is so good, so right, I scream. He bounces me on his shaft, up and down, water splashing everywhere, my tits floating and jiggling with every thrust.
“Yes Hunter!” I scream. “Yes, yes, yes!”
He groans, alternating between my two holes, sometimes going into my ass, sometimes my cunt, making both orifices hungry for him, never letting either be fully satisfied. It’s dizzying, overwhelming, and so fucking hot I can barely see straight.
“You’re Daddy’s fuckslut, aren’t you?” he rasps hungrily. “Letting me fuck you like this. Letting me claim both your pussy and your ass.”
“Yes, yes, I love it!” I cry out, arching my back with my tits in his face. “Ooooh!”