CHAPTER 18 – BUILDING A NEW LIFE #3
With a sudden rush, he moves us to the stairs, and he sits with me straddling him, fucking myself on his cock while he squeezes my ass, spreading me wide for every stroke. The water turns slicker, hotter, and I feel my orgasm rising, unstoppable.
“Hunter, I’m—” I choke on the words as it hits me, a tidal wave of pleasure, and I clamp down on his cock, milking him, screaming his name.
He lets go as well, shoving into me as deep as possible, and I feel his cock twitch, the heat of his cum flooding me, mixing with the pool, running down my thighs.
“FUCK!” he roars in the pool house, shaking the thin walls. “Shit shit shit!”
He keeps thrusting, even after our tremors subside somewhat, not willing to stop, not willing to let me go. I feel so good and so content, my pussy and ass rippling, milking him of virile sperm with every tremor. This is what I want. This is what I was born for.
When we finally collapse, he cradles me in his lap, stroking my hair, both of us sated and breathless.
I rest my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, feeling more alive than I ever have.
The blue of the water, the shimmer of the tiles, the echo of our voices—they’re all part of the story now. Part of me.
I kiss his jaw, tasting salt and chlorine.
“Was that what you wanted?” he asks, voice soft and low.
I nod, nuzzling into him. “It’s everything I ever wanted.”
We stay together, tangled, until the sun goes down and the city lights flicker on, one by one.
It’s blissful because in Hunter’s arms, I don’t feel divided.
I feel whole.
We wrap ourselves in towels and lie together on the heated stone by the pool, Hunter flat on his back, me curled into his chest. The room is heavy with humidity and the faint hum of low jazz from the speakers, but the towels are thick and plush, and I never want to move again.
Hunter traces lazy circles on my arm, his fingers rough with calluses from gym and work. I run my toe along his shin, just because I can. It’s quiet for a while, just the drip of water and our synced-up breathing.
He’s the one who finally speaks.
“What are you thinking, sweetheart?” he asks, voice low. “A penny for your thoughts.”
I close my eyes, pondering the question. The old me would have panicked at the blankness of the future, but now it feels like a challenge. An invitation.
“I’m thinking about grad school,” I say. “Eventually. Maybe a research job.”
He laughs, a deep rumble under my cheek. “Always the overachiever.”
I pinch his ribs, and he grins. “What about you?” I ask.
“I’m thinking about a sabbatical,” he says, and I almost choke.
“You? Step away from your empire? Will Justify AI survive without you?”
He shrugs, nonchalant. “I’m allowed because it’s my company. Plus, they’re fine. I have a lot of good people working for me, and they don’t need me around that much. Besides, I don’t want to miss out on you.”
I smile, rolling onto my side to look at him. “Are you sure? AI is going wild right now, and I bet they’d fall to pieces without you. You’re just being modest.”
He rolls with me, so we’re face to face, towels gaping open, skin to skin. “Maybe,” he says. “But I’m serious. I want you to be happy, Tara. And I want to be happy too, and that means spending time with you.”
It stuns me, a little, how much I believe him.
“I’m happy now,” I say, pressing my lips to his. “You don’t have to do anything different, Hunter. I love you the way you are.”
He kisses back, soft, then not soft at all.
“I love you too, Tara. Absolutely. Completely. More than you know.”
We get lost in it for a while, tongues and teeth, hands everywhere. When we break apart, I nestle under his chin and stare at the reflections on the ceiling.
“Do you ever think about marriage?” I ask, the word foreign on my tongue. “And kids?” I stumble on the words, my cheeks going red. Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m bringing this up. Have I gone insane?
But Hunter doesn’t laugh or tease. He just nods. “Yeah, all the time. But you’re young, Tara, and there’s no need to rush into things. I’d wait for you. However long.”
I exhale, surprised by how much it matters. “I want to finish my degree first,” I say. “But I think I would like to get married and have babies someday. Maybe even sooner than you think.”
A low growl rumbles through his chest, and I know it’s one of possession.
“Good,” he rasps, blue eyes gleaming before he kisses me again. “Because I plan on filling you with babies. Lots of them. Nothing would make me happier.”
Pleasure suffuses my form because I adore the thought of a family with this man. I can already see it - a passel of boys with their father’s black hair and mischievous blue eyes. It would be a dream, and I smile, my heart blooming. But then, a shadow crosses my thoughts.
“You know, sometimes I think I still feel her.”
“Who?” he asks, not moving.
“Daisy. The other me. It’s weird, but sometimes she shows up. Like if I’m feeling reckless, or… really turned on,” I blush. “It’s like I have this extra gear.”
The huge alpha male pulls me tighter. “I loved Daisy, too,” he says. “But you know, she was always you. You just didn’t let her out before.”
I laugh, a tiny, incredulous thing. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It is,” he says, matter of fact. “You were always both women. The sweet barista who blushed at dirty jokes and the woman who drove me insane with her gorgeous curves at the auction.”
I feel tears prick at my eyes, but I don’t let them fall.
I just nod, and burrow deeper into his chest, listening to the slow, steady thump of his heart.
We stay there until the room goes dark, until the towels dry and the heat dissipates. Then he scoops me up and carries me to bed, wrapping us in fresh sheets, tucking my head under his chin. I sleep like the dead, and when I wake, he’s still there.
Still holding me.
Still mine.