Chapter 29
CHAPTER 29
I ditched Hunter and our usual run this morning. A burning desire to get on the ice and skate consumed me when I woke up this morning. The rink would be empty until later today and a pre-dawn skate felt right. I finished lacing up my Bauers and tapped my Spotify app on my phone. It took me only a minute to find the music that fit my fancy for today: Hamilton .
As the words to “My Shot” buzzed in my ears, I pushed myself out onto the ice. Only the emergency lights were on, giving the rink an eerie glow. I wasn’t wearing any gear, just a pair of leggings and Hunter’s hockey hoodie. It was mine now. He wouldn’t be getting it back. I left my stick lying on top of the short boards near the home bench and skated around the rink. Closing my eyes, I felt the air whip past my face. Lin Manuel Miranda spit the chorus about being young and creating a perfect atmosphere. I hadn’t skated just to skate in a long time. I forgot what it felt like to be on the ice for fun instead of an ulterior goal. Sucking in large gulps of air, I pushed my body into a sprint. I raced down the length of the rink, smiling at the rush of my speed. Pivoting toward the crease, I watched a large spray of ice splash onto the plexig lass. Sending snow flying after a stop was one of my favorite things to do. I lingered a moment, savoring it, before continuing into a set of suicides.
Eventually, the music changed, and so did my tempo. I picked up my stick and played with stick-handling drills. King George sang, and I joined in, completely lost in the moment.
The deadline was approaching for Team USA. Hunter was cooking up a plan to get me on the ice with a team. Short of me skating with our peewee league, I didn’t know how he was going to make that happen. I held faith that a solution would present itself, but I acknowledged the reality that the Olympics might not be for me next year. Sometimes I wondered if Hunter wanted it for me more than I desired it for myself. We hadn’t seen each other since the night of the library incident two days ago. The team had two away games backed up to each other, but we made plans to see each other tonight. Hunter told me he wanted to take me on a ‘real’ date.
Kennedy and Robby were both over the moon over it. Kennedy planned to come help me get ready and Robby quickly demanded to be included via Facetime. It didn’t matter that it would be in the middle of the night in Scotland. He was determined to see me off like my own fairy godmother.
My heart halted in my chest when I looked up from my drive down the ice. Standing at center ice with his hands on his hips was Hunter St. James. He looked like a Greek god, comfortable on the ice in his street shoes. Freezing, I let out a strangled noise that was a cross between a scream and a yelp.
“What are you doing here?!”
“You stood me up.” The abrupt stop caused me to wobble, and Hunter’s hands darted out to steady me.
I yanked my AirPods out of my ear, effectively cutting off Story of Tonight . “My world doesn’t revolve around you, Hunter St. James. ”
Hunter smirked. “It should. I stood outside your door for ten minutes knocking.”
The image of Hunter constantly knocking made me laugh. “How did you figure out I was here?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Honestly? I guessed. If it wasn’t here, I would’ve called.”
Hunter followed me as I exited the rink. His ability to navigate the ice in his street shoes was impressive. I grew up at this rink and I still would’ve fallen on my butt attempting that.
“Want to go back to your place?” He suggested.
“What, no self-induced cardio torture?”
Hunter shook his head. “Nah, thought I’d torture you in a different capacity.”
“Oh, really now?”
His tongue darted out quickly, licking his lower lip. One little movement and awareness awakened in my core.
“Why wait?”
There were plenty of stories over the years about how the team had an unspoken dare to have sex in the rink. Technically, Hunter already achieved that in some capacity, but I wouldn’t mind upping the ante.
“How’s your bruises?” Hunter questioned, caging me against the wall of the bench.
“Fading, and I’m no longer sore.”
Hunter’s cheek brushed against my own. “Hmm, I guess I better play nice then.”
I yelped when he dropped to his knees, yanking my leggings down. Frantically, my eyes darted around the rink.
“Up.” His hands grasped my hips, forcing them away from the bench. He tore my panties off. “Anyone can see.”
He looked up at me, gray eyes glinting in the rink lights, and smirked. “That’s the point, Sunshine.”
His mouth enveloped my clit. “Voyeurism…new kink unlocked.” I moaned .
Hunter grunted. He picked up my left leg and threw it over his shoulder. I sagged against the wall, letting him carry my weight.
“Holy-holy shit. Do. Not. Stop,” I gasped, fisting his silky hair in my hands.
Hunter hummed in approval, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through my core. I looked up at the rafters, gasping. Hunter’s assault on my pussy was life-altering. Somewhere, angels sang, and the Earth shook. He alternated between sucking and licking, causing me to bite my knuckles to contain my screams.
Hunter pulled back and smiled, my arousal coating his lips. “Do not stop.” I whined. He chuckled and inserted two fingers.
“You like that Sunshine? Who owns this cunt?” He rasped.
He curled his fingers and found my G-spot, making me writhe against him. He brought his mouth back down and sucked as he maintained his rhythm with his hands.
Hunter stopped as I was about to come and I nearly cried, “I asked you a question, Sunshine.” He moved his digits slowly. The torturous pace frustrated me. My insides quivered with need. He tsked and stopped again. “A response, love.” He blew against my center and I shuddered.
“Y-you.”
“I what?” He tilted his head to the side, resuming the languid pace.
“You own my cunt.” I gritted.
He smiled, “Good girl, but don’t think I forgot about your disobedience this morning.” Hunter picked up his pace. Slowly, he inserted a third finger, and I saw stars.
“Oh, my God.”
“Tsk, tsk, Oh my Hunter ,” He slapped my clit, the vibration thrumming in tandem with the thrust of his fingers.
I was on the cusp of orgasm, everything tightening and stretching at the same time. “Please let me cum,” I begged. My bod y wiggled. The need for Hunter to keep doing something overwhelmed me. Hunter chuckled, stopping. “I love when you beg for me, Sunshine, but not yet.”
I wanted to murder him. I glared down at his cocky smirk and contemplated smacking it off. He slapped my folds again, and I nearly screamed. He stood slowly, wiping his mouth with his hand.
No fucking way.
I angrily pulled up my leggings. “Don’t pout Sunshine, I’ll make it all worth it later.” He leaned in, kissing me softly. I deepened the kiss. Surprisingly, I didn’t hate the salty taste on his tongue. I shoved him off and swatted his chest.
“Who says there’ll be a later now?”
Hunter laughed and laced our hands together. He walked away, with me trailing behind him. “Oh, don’t be a sore loser. There’ll be a later.”
I huffed behind him while he laughed at me.
Have I mentioned I want to murder Hunter St. James?
Kennedy flitted around my room like a kitten who had too much catnip. She pulled at my hair, attempting to style it. Robby’s voice echoed in the background, commenting every time she did something to me. At one point, Kennedy got so frustrated with Robbie that she ended the Facetime call.
“He’s going to be pissed.” I laughed
She rolled her eyes. “He’ll get over it--” Kennedy cut off when his incoming call flashed across the screen. She pointed at me. “Don’t you dare answer that. He can get details from you later.”
I shook my head but shot him a text message explaining I’d call him tomorrow. Kennedy and I sat in my bedroom, a makeshift makeup mirror rigged to my desk. She had finish ed my makeup earlier, and hopefully would be done with my hair soon.
“Kennedy, seriously, I look fine.”
She placed a hand on her hip. “Fine, isn’t hot. You need to look mouthwatering .”
“Jesus, Ken, it’s Hunter, not Ryan Reynolds.”
Kennedy smacked me. “Shut your whore mouth. Hunter is way better than Ryan Reynolds and you know it. Quite trying to lie to yourself.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. But can you leave my head alone? I need a scalp transplant after all this tugging.”
Kennedy waved me off, but relented. It was almost five. Hunter would be here at any moment. I tugged at the crop top, second guessing my clothing choice. There wasn’t time to change. My Ring app chimed, alerting me to Hunter’s arrival.
Kennedy followed me out into the main part of my apartment. She got comfortable, sitting herself on top of my counters.
“Aren’t you going to leave?”
“Oh fuck no, I want to see this! Let me live vicariously through you.” She jutted her lower lip out.
“Fiiine.”
Swinging open my door, Hunter leaned against the frame. Gulping, I took in his gigantic form. He looked like sex on a stick in a pair of fitted jeans and a black t-shirt. It wasn’t fair that he made simple look so good. In his hand, he held a single sunflower.
“For you, Sunshine.” He pushed off the door frame and extended it to me.
My cheeks warmed while I took the flower in my hands. The simple gesture melted my insides.
“Oh, my God! He brought you a fucking flower?! Someone call my OB, because my ovaries just exploded!”
Hunter laughed, “Hey Kennedy. ”
She waved from my kitchen and didn’t make a move to leave.
“Are you going to stay in my apartment all night?”
“Fuck. Fine. I’ll see myself out.”
She pushed past us, proclaiming to not do anything she wouldn’t do.
“You ready to go, Sunshine?”
I smiled. “Please. Are you going to tell me the plan?”
Hunter waited while I locked my door. We made our way towards his truck, his hand resting on the small of my back.
“What kind of surprise would it be if I told you where we were going?”
“I don’t do surprises, you know that!”
He rolled his eyes, opening the passenger door and waving me in. “You can’t let one unpleasant experience ruin it forever.”
Situating myself in the truck, I huffed. “Unpleasant? Last time you had a surprise for me, you and Jackson rigged a carton of milk behind my bedroom door. My carpet reeked for months. ”
Hunter cackled before closing the passenger door and walking around to his side of the truck.
“I promise you’ll like this surprise.”
Hunter drove us to the downtown district of Bloomington. It wasn’t as nice as the Uptown area, but it was home to multiple businesses and restaurants. Townies milled around, walking with their families, coming and going from different establishments. The bars in the area were currently dark, but would become a hive of activity later in the night. Hunter pulled in front of a slew of connected store fronts. Nestled in between a small Italian restaurant and an ice cream parlor was an art gallery.
The front of Luisa’s boasted bright pink awnings. The large picture window was filled with different paintings and sculptures placed haphazardly. A sign advertised studio space for rent b y the hour. This place was wildly popular amongst the art community. In the summers, the owner hosted art camps for kids and would sell her work in weekly farmer’s markets. Luisa could have space in any major gallery in the country, but she prided herself on her hometown roots.
“What are we doing here?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Hunter leaned forward peering at the gallery through his windshield.
“I don’t want my art in a gallery.”
“Give me more credit than that, Sunshine.”
We exited the truck, and Hunter guided me to the door. The gallery was dark and curiosity bled from my pores. Hunter produced a key from his pocket with a flourish.
“Luisa rents out the backroom,” He pointed to the sign I noticed earlier.
After letting ourselves in, we made our way to the back studio space. My jaw fell to the floor when the space illuminated. Tarps covered the floors and rows of different tubes of paint lined the walls. Every color imaginable was available, and directly next to it were just as many brushes. The variety rivaled a name brand art supply store. I walked forward, running my fingers through the brush heads. The soft bristles excited me, like a kid in a candy store.
Hunter directed my attention to an oversized canvas. Instead of being attached to a stretcher, it laid directly on the floor.
“Pick out your favorite colors.”
Hunter’s command caused my eyes to snap to his own. They turned to liquid steel, searing me with their intensity.
“I’m painting for you?” I never painted for anyone before. The idea of having an audience made me want to hurl. It was hard enough to turn in my completed projects. How was I supposed to paint with an audience?
He crooked his finger at me. My body went to him without hesitation, like a moth to a flame. Hunter caressed my che ek. “We’re going to paint,” he grabbed my hands, “Using these.”
Hunter grabbed a couple of tubes of paint in various colors—cerulean, crimson, and sunflower yellow—and laid them down on the canvas. The primary colors were an interesting choice. He shrugged his shirt off in an impressive one-handed maneuver.
“What are you doing?”
“Get messy with me Maci.” He pulled my crop top over my head, and it fell discarded to the floor. A look of appreciation crossed his eyes at the sight of my pink silk bra. My breathing hitched with the touch of his hands on my breasts. Hunter peeled the silk away, leaving me bare from the waist up. I didn’t cower away from his gaze, instead, standing proudly with my shoulders pulled back.
“My turn.” My fingers darted to his waistline, tugging him towards me.
He didn’t resist, letting me deftly unbutton and unzip his pants before pulling them down his toned legs. Years of hockey left Hunter with legs built like tree trunks. My fingers ran the length of his corded thighs, admiring their strength. Hunter gripped my chin, pulling me to him. His mouth enveloped my own as he pushed me back towards the canvas.
The feeling of his lips against mine short circuited my brain. A million electric synapses misfiring all at once. Even though he kissed me like the world was ending, his lips felt pillow soft against my own. Every brush of softness against my own gave me goosebumps. Anticipation twisted in my stomach, a sensation that rivaled flapping pterodactyls erupting through me. Hunter St. James was lightening and his kisses made me want to be struck every day. He broke away, breathless, his wolfish smile zapping me in my core. He pulled me to sit with him on the canvas and picked up tubes of paint. Taking my palm into his own, he squeezed the crimso n into it. Then, he pushed my hands together, smearing the paint between them. I marveled at how the cool liquid felt like a balm on my overheated palms. Hunter repeated the process with himself, choosing the sunflower yellow paint instead of the crimson.
Watching to see what he planned to do, Hunter’s palm contacted the canvas, leaving a perfect yellow handprint behind. He grabbed my wrist, bringing the palm to his chest. The deep red color spread across it, right above his heart. My handprint looked dwarfed compared to his wide, toned chest. Satisfaction creeped through my veins, loving that my mark had been left on him. The steady thrum of his heartbeat vibrated under my palm. Heat creeped up my cheeks, and my breath came in shallow pants.
Hunter’s eyes smoldered. “This is yours, Sunshine.”
His declaration left me breathless. Hunter was a wordsmith, constantly talking to my soul, whispering the words it needed to survive, to heal. He brought me back to life in every way that counts. I wanted to be better for him, to be more than the shell of a human I’ve existed as lately. He deserved so much more than me, yet he refused to believe it. Instead, he pushed and pried, climbing over my proverbial walls like stepping stones.
His hands covered my own, holding my palm in place. “Do me a favor, Sunshine? Try not to touch this spot for me?”
My brows pulled together at his request. There wasn’t a chance to think about it, because in one swift move, Hunter pushed me down on the canvas. My hair fanned out against it, tangling with paint that I hadn’t noticed before. Hunter played with it, mixing the blonde ends with blue and yellow paint, turning them a sea green color.
“Beautiful,” He murmured to himself. His wrist flicked in the same motion as a wrist shot, paint flinging off my hair onto the canvas. The stripe of color left behind contrasted starkly against the white canvas .
A giggle bubbled from my chest as I strained my eyes to see his work. “What are you doing?”
“I’m channeling my inner Maci Rae.”
Hunter’s body shifted over mine, his hips settling over my own. His erection pushed against my panty clad mound, causing a gasp to escape my lips. He smirked down at me, letting my hair plop back onto the canvas. His hands, still drenched in happy, yellow paint, traced down the planes of my stomach. Every touch left a trail of paint and goosebumps behind it. Reaching to the side of me, I grabbed a random tube of paint. Hunter didn’t notice my movements, distracted by kissing from my abdomen to my breasts. I squeezed, releasing a blob of paint onto his back. He pulled away, the cold sensation shocking him.
“Oh, you’re in for it now, Sunshine.” Hunter’s eyes darkened as he leaned back. Trapped underneath him, I pushed myself up onto my elbows, causing more paint to spread underneath me.
Hunter leaned to his right, pulling the belt we had abandoned from his pile of clothes. I licked my lips in anticipation. Hunter had dropped hints about his dominant nature, and edging me into submission earlier left me aching for him all afternoon. The idea of being tied up while Hunter did whatever he wished to me caused my pussy to drip in excitement.
“Good girls get rewards, bad girls get punishments, and you, Maci Rae, are a brat.”
He pounced, pinning my arms above my head. My chest heaved in excitement and to add salt to the wound, I bucked my hips against him.
“Please keep fighting me,” he ground his hips into my stomach, pushing his erection into its soft planes.
His fingers worked skillfully, wrapping the leather and cinching it tight. He grunted, satisfied by my lack of movement. He took a moment to take me in, laying there splayed with my arms above me. The ravenous look on his face made me con fident. There was no need to shy away from his calculating gaze.
“Don’t move.” His voice was gravel, sending shivers down my spine.
Hunter lifted his torso, giving him enough room to rip my jeans down my hips and legs. Paint dragged across the canvas from where they connected with the material.
“I liked those.”
Hunter shrugged, diving between my legs. “Baby, I’ll buy you as many pairs of pants as you want.”
I rolled my eyes, Hunter’s own flashing at my insolence. His hand slapped the top of my panties and I gasped at the quick burst of pain spreading across my folds.
“Good girls don’t roll their eyes.”
Hunter waited, his eyes daring me to talk back. Biting my lip, I nodded my head.
“What do you say?”
“Yes?”
He shook his head, slapping my folds again. “Let’s try that again. Yes, what?”
My hips bucked, and I bit back a moan. The pain from his slap ebbed from stinging pain into vibrating pleasure. “Yes, sir.”
He smirked, not acknowledging or giving praise for my words. A small part of me recoiled. Isn’t that what he’s supposed to do? Praise me for my words? The sound of fabric ripping jolted my attention downwards. Hunter discarded my panties next to us, swirling them through a swath of paint. The pastel pink fabric contrasted with orange that blossomed from the mixture of crimson and yellow paint below it. He dragged them up and across, spreading the colors like the tail of a comet. He rested the damp paint-logged silk underneath my restrained hands.
“Every time you move, I’ll know.”
The desire to push back intensified. My instincts were to tell h im to fuck off, and show him who was the boss. Especially if he didn’t give into my need for praise.
“Make it worth my while, Hunt.”
He smirked at me, “You have to earn it, Sunshine.”
I huffed, but didn’t respond.
Hunter pushed his hips back against my own, rocking his erection against my bare core. The friction wound me tighter, my body aching to be full. Hunter knew it too, because he didn’t relent.
“Do you think you’ve been a good enough girl for me yet?”
Comply or not. He was giving me the choice, dangling it in front of me like a carrot. My hips lifted, meeting his languid thrusts. Decision made, I closed my eyes.
“Please, I need more.”
Hunter hummed and grabbed his dick. The girth and length of it made me question if it would even fit. What was the point of begging if he was going to rip me in half? A bead of precum glistened on his tip. He glided the head through my folds, flicking my clit as he went. A whimper ripped through my lips. The torture was endless and after being edged this afternoon, my body was ready to combust. The tension of my desire mixed with Hunter’s constant refusal was slowly driving me insane. My entire body flushed and my skin crawled with the growing need to be relieved.
“What do you need? Tell me and maybe I will give you what you need.”
My eyes pleaded with his own. He enjoyed stringing me along. His dick twitched every time he teased me.
“I need you.”
Hunter tsked, pushing just the crown of his cock inside of me. My body clenched around it, begging to be fucked.
“There. You have me.”
Huffing, I pushed my hips up, trying to push him deeper. Hunter chuckled at my efforts, capturing my lips with his own. M y desperation bled into the kiss. I bit his lip, groaning at the chaos brewing within me.
“Hunter. I need you to fuck me. I don’t want soft or slow, I want you to annihilate me.”
Hunter pulled away from my lips, his eyes searching my own. A look of satisfaction crossed his features. “With pleasure.”
My plea was the catalyst for Hunter to let loose. He rocked his hips back, pounding his dick into me. The sensation of him filling me to the brim made me release a guttural groan. I was tight, and he waited a moment before moving again, as if he was savoring the feeling of my cunt squeezing his cock in a vice grip.
“Fuck, Sunshine, you’re beautiful. Look at that greedy cunt taking what it wants.”
My only response was to moan as he pounded into me. His pace was relentless, and every rock of his hips brought me closer to the euphoria that I sought. Time seemed to still, the surrounding room fading away. The only thing in this moment that mattered was the sensation passing between Hunter and I. The feel of paint splashing against bare skin, rough canvas biting into the small of my back like a rug burn and the growing need to release barreling towards me.
“Fuck, Hunt, I’m--”
“Not without permission, you aren’t.” He grunted, changing direction slightly. With his next stroke, I saw stars. Hunter was hitting my g-spot, and I screamed out.
“Ask me for permission.” Hunter didn’t even look winded from exertion, but his features held taut as he held back his own climax. I fought the urge to come undone. Every part of my body was ready to fall off the edge. I wanted to throw myself over. Permission be damned.
“Please…. sir.” I gasped.
Hunter growled, increasing his pace. “Cum. Fucking cum for me, Sunshine. ”
My world exploded into a kaleidoscope of colors. My mind disconnected from my body as everything went offline. The only thing I could feel was Hunter. He peppered kisses down my jaw, rocking into me as my body clamped around his dick. “So fucking perfect.” He cooed, thrusting a few more times. Hunter groaned, his release shooting inside me. He slumped down against me, pinning me to the canvas. We both lay there, boneless and quiet. The quick panting of our breaths was the only sound that filled the air. Hunter lifted his head, his eyes a pretty shade of silver, sparkling like steel in the sunlight. He ran a finger across my jaw. There was no need for words. I wanted this moment to be infinite, to imprint permanently on my brain.
Sex had always just been that. Nothing fancy or clandestine. Just two bodies coming together to give each other a moment of fleeting pleasure. What transpired between Hunter and me transcended every other experience to date.
“Do you think Louisa has cameras?”
Hunter chuckled, his eyes shifting around the room, “I highly doubt it. There’s probably some weird issue with copyrights and artists if she videos their work.”
My stomach emitted a loud rumble, and Hunter stood, pulling me with him. Below us, the canvas was a chaotic mess of color. A smear of acrylic capturing each movement we made. Yellow bled into red, red to blue. The primary colors bled to their secondary counterparts. To an outsider, the canvas looked like a series of blotches and strokes. An abstract creation that only the artist would know the message behind. To us, it would forever memorialize the explosion between us. The paint a direct correlation to the passion we shared.
“I’m going to frame this, and when I’m drafted, I’m buying you the house of your dreams and hanging it right above the couch. ”
Heat flooded my cheeks. “Don’t be ridiculous.” I shoved Hunter lightly on the shoulder. “Feed me, you neanderthal.”
With one last glance at the floor, Hunter turned his steely gaze to me. “With pleasure.”
We washed up in the small sink in the corner. It didn’t get all the color off our skin. People openly stared at the paint marring our skin throughout dinner. Hunter never batted an eyelash at the onlookers. Instead, he acted as if being covered in paint was normal. I couldn't help but watch him as he talked to the waiter. He had a calm demeanor about him, conversing with ease as if the man wasn’t staring at the red paint on his face. I relaxed into our meal. Who cared what other people thought? Let them judge us. Tonight wasn’t about them. This was about Hunter and I. Everyone else be damned.