3. Hunter Knox
Hunter Knox
T he sound of moist skin smacking combined with the aroma of teakwood, vanilla, and lust filled our home.
Valentine’s Day was perfect with Mahasin; everything was perfect with Mahasin.
She was indeed the woman of my dreams, the woman I should have waited for God to give to me, instead of creating my own destiny, only to feel miserable while living the shit.
“That’s right, beautiful, throw that shit back for your man,” I said through gritted teeth.
Gripping her long hair, I fucked Mahasin from the back like someone was preparing to take the pussy away from me.
Like I’d kill a nigga just for asking her if she knew what time it was.
Because I would. She was mine, made for me.
Mahasin was poised, polished, and proficient, a fucking triple threat.
Her brown skin glows, her almond eyes cut right through me, and that natural hair she rocks sits on her head like the perfect crown.
I want her to be the mother of my future children; she would be the one to give birth to my sons. It was now or never.
Fuck it.
“I love you, Mahasin,” I stammered as I let her hair go, to grip one of her ass cheeks, still very much tearing that ass up from the back.
Feeling myself about to release prematurely, I pulled out of her and flipped her around so that her back was against the kitchen island.
She breathed so feverishly as I bit her bottom lip, talking into her mouth.
“You heard what I said, baby?”
“Yes, but are you sure?” she questioned. Moaning while I took one of her nipples into my mouth and massaged her clit.
Before responding to her, I gave her other nipple some attention. All while penetrating her pussy with my index and middle fingers and using my thumb to rub the tip of her clit in circular motions.
“I aint never been more serious about anything in my life, baby. Cum for me.”
“Hunter, oh my fucking!”
She came almost instantaneously. I lifted her with ease, each of her legs hooked in my arms, leaving her spread and completely at my mercy.
“Put it in,” I told her, pecking her lips.
“Wait, King,” she moaned. “Fuck me on the patio. I want the world to hear me scream your name.”
Hearing that made my dick jump. Doing as she asked, I carried her with her legs wrapped around me, out onto our rooftop patio.
On the way, I stopped at the bar and swiped a small velvet-gray jewelry box from the counter.
Even though it was February, the lowest temperature we ever got in Rosemoor was seventy-three degrees—and it never snowed.
Lying her on the couch, I growled, “I need you to scream my name so loud it rattles outer space.”
She sat up slowly, wrapping her lips around the head of my dick. Inch by inch, she swallowed me, spit running down her chin as she made me call out like I’d never been touched before. Her head game was unmatched—that’s how she ended up with this penthouse after just four months together.
“Baby, wait. This ain’t where I’m trying to release my nut,” I groaned, fighting for control.
“Where you trying to nut, King?” she teased, still sucking and licking like she owned me.
I wrapped my hand around her neck—not choking, but firm enough to remind her who was in charge. Forcing her back, I slid between her thighs, pushing into her slowly, deeply. Without her noticing, I set the jewelry box by her head.
“Damn, baby,” she moaned.
I thrusted into her, hard and steady, locking my eyes on hers.
“Hunter!” she cried, squinting.
“Nah, Mahasin. Keep them eyes on me, baby.”
“Where you trying to nut at, King?” she moaned again.
Grinding into her, hitting every spot I knew made her lose herself, I whispered in her ear, “In this pussy.”
“Fuck!” she screamed.
Her climax gripped me tight, sucking me in.
That was my moment. Reaching above her head, I pulled out the four-carat pear-shaped diamond ring and slid it onto her finger while she was still riding her release.
She didn’t notice a thing, too lost in pleasure, while I kept beating her shit up and picturing the rest of my life with her.
“Fuuuck!” I growled, releasing inside her.
We collapsed on the couch until our breathing slowed. Mahasin, always clumsy after sex, tried to stand, and I kept a close eye—last time her ass almost fell into the fireplace.
“I hope you plan to feed me, because you drained every nutrient out of my body,” she laughed, rubbing her temples. “Let’s go take a bath.”
How the hell does she not feel that rock on her finger?
I joined her in the bathroom to set the water—because if it were up to her, she’d boil me alive. While I adjusted the temperature, she dropped an oatmeal-lavender bath bomb into the tub and queued her favorite lo-fi playlist. Then she went to the mirror to twist her hair up into a bun.
“You better not take a Plan B, either,” I said low, stepping behind her. “I want my baby growing inside that beautiful womb of yours.”
“Hunter, what?” She froze. “You really think as an OBGYN I wouldn’t know how to protect myself? I have an IUD. Wait—you want me to have your baby?” Her face softened, eyes misting. “Baby, I’d love that, but I want to be married first.”
I began to softly kiss her neck, sliding my hands from her ass to her stomach, then lifted the hand I’d placed the ring on. Holding it up in the mirror, I whispered in her ear:
“Get rid of that shit tomorrow. This is forever.”
She froze in the mirror, eyes damn near falling out of their sockets.
“Baby, are you okay?” I asked.
When she didn’t respond, I turned her slowly to face me. She stared so deep into my eyes it unsettled me, like she could see straight through to my soul. Then the tears came—big, heavy drops falling fast, the silence so sharp I swear I could hear them hit the tile floor.
Did she know? Nah, no way.
“Mahasin, why are you crying, baby?”
Her voice came out soft, almost a whisper.
“I’ve always been successful. If it was a competition, I was number one.
If it was a group effort, I was Beyoncé.
My parents beat success into me everyday breathing, and God blessed their visions for me.
But I never prayed for myself, never told Him what I wanted—until I realized all I wanted was to be loved. ”
She wiped at her tears.
“Not parental love, I had an abundance of that. But loved by a man… a partner, a protector, someone to call my person. And by the time I admitted it, I figured I had maxed out on blessings. I dated loser after loser, wasted so much time giving myself to men who didn’t deserve me.”
“Mahasin, baby, I didn’t mean for this to make you—”
She cut me off, her eyes blazing through her tears.
“Hunter, just listen. You made me realize my blessings weren’t maxed out—I was just waiting on the best God had to offer.
I love you, Hunter Knox. You complete me, baby.
And if you can promise to always protect my heart, to love me, provide for me, and pray with me—. ”
This woman was perfect. I was supposed to be the one confessing my love, making her feel like the sun only rose because she opened those beautiful maple eyes of hers.
And somehow, she ended up making me feel like the man my mama raised me to be.
She awakened the royalty buried in my blood, passed down from my ancestors who survived and thrived so I could stand here.
This woman was my Queen.
“Mahasin,” I interrupted softly. “From the moment you bumped into me and called me a dummy, I knew you weren’t like anyone else. You don’t need me to complete you—you’ve always been more than enough, no matter who came and went.” I lifted her chin.
That crown of hers should always stay raised high.
“With all the losses you’ve taken in your personal life, you still chose to show up and succeed in your professional life. Every day, you bring joy to the people around you—not just your patients. You are the prize, Mahasin.”
Her tears spilled faster, her bottom lip trembled.
I swallowed hard, the words pressing up in my chest like they’d been waiting for this moment. If only she knew the one truth I still carried… but not tonight. Not yet.
“Through the good and the bad,” I went on, “you are who I want. No woman has ever made me feel small in the best way—like I need to rise just to be worthy of you. You push me, Mahasin, just by being you.”
Her eyes locked with mine, and the rawness of the moment hit harder than any staged Valentine’s Day dinner.
Fuck the reservations, the roses, the overpriced champagne—none of that meant shit compared to this.
No cameras, no strangers clapping on cue, no script to follow.
Just the love of my life, her tears providing the electricity that made my heart feel like it was pumping out of my chest, and her vulnerability spilling over in my hands.
I’d give up everything in my portfolio for this woman, and she’d still never have to want for anything with me.
And then—I did what I should have done long before. I dropped to one knee.
I’d have to admit, though… secretly slipping an engagement ring on your lady’s finger while fucking her through an orgasm? Dope as fuck.
Her breath caught, a sharp little gasp that echoed in the quiet room. Tears cascaded down her cheeks as I held her trembling hand, the ring glinting in the candlelight. For a moment, the world went still.
“Mahasin Noelle St. James,” I said, my voice steady but my heart racing out of control, “will you marry me and make me the luckiest man alive?”
“Yes!” she cried out, her voice breaking as she laughed through her tears.
I shot up, pulling her into me. Our kiss was hungry, desperate, full of every promise we hadn’t said out loud. She wrapped her arms tight around my neck, whispering my name against my mouth like a prayer.
Life with her as my wife felt like a blessing I never thought I’d come across.
For all her success, she was still humble, sweet, kind, and caring.
I could list a thousand things I loved about her and still not scratch the surface.
I craved her in the small moments—her laugh when watching reruns of Martin , as if it were her first time watching it, tugging on my ear as her way of soothing herself before she fell asleep, the way she looked at me when she thought I wasn’t paying attention.
I didn’t just want Mahasin—I needed her.
She was air in my lungs, the pulse in my veins.
Without her, everything I was about to walk away from would be for nothing.
With her, I’d give it all up without hesitation.
I would make sure she had everything she wanted, living a life of ease and prosperity until my last breath, and even after that, I’d still find a way to love her.
No one could make me see her as anything less than perfection.
No one could come between the love we share.
Because of my loose ends, they will talk, they will scheme, they will drag my name through the dirt—but it wouldn’t matter.
I’d fight every story told, silence every doubt, destroy any wall that tried to stand between us.
And if “no one” ever made her question what she meant to me, I’d spend every breath proving them wrong.
Because loving her wasn’t a choice, it was a necessity.
No one could ever write a forbidden chapter in our love story. No one. Except my current wife.