11. Are We Really Doing This?
ARE WE REALLY DOING THIS?
Stella
The mansion feels emptier at night, even with two humans rattling around inside it.
No background party noise, no cleaning crew, no faint echo of a TV or phone call.
Just me and Hunter at the kitchen counter, a slab of marble so cold it burns my bare thighs when I hop onto the stool.
Above us, the pendant light hangs like a surgical lamp, spotlighting open cartons of lo mein and sesame chicken and the two of us, side by side but each pretending we exist in a vacuum.
Chinese food doesn’t taste the same in an echo chamber.
It tastes saltier, almost metallic, each bite underscored by the click of chopsticks against porcelain and the soft hiss of someone breathing in through their nose.
Maybe it’s my imagination, but Hunter seems to eat like it’s a performance, every move slow and deliberate, like he’s in training for a contest I’m not allowed to watch.
I fidget with a crispy noodle, twisting it in my fingers until it crumbles into yellow dust. My stomach is full, but my mind is gnawing on itself.
Yet Hunter’s totally relaxed. He grins at me, pops a forkful of broccoli beef into his mouth, and leans back.
“So how was your day, sweetheart? Anything special happen?”
I smile, helping myself to a piece of crispy noodle.
“No, not really. Just worked. Chloe says hi, by the way.”
“Who’s Chloe?” he asks.
"My friend at the boutique.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“She knows me?”
I cock my head playfully. “Well, I’ve told her about you. Nothing bad, don’t worry, but yeah, she knows you’re my chaperone,” I fib.
That causes Hunter to relax a bit, but then he frowns.
“Have you been telling anyone else about us? Or about what’s going on?”
“No, of course not,” I lie. “Well, maybe I hinted at it to Chloe, but that girl just started blabbing on and on about some dude named Aiden she met at the party, so I doubt she even heard.”
“Good,” Hunter grunts. “Because you know what we’re doing is fucked up. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t care what people say about me. I’m going to fuck who I want and everyone else can deal. But I don’t want your good reputation to be tarnished, sweetheart.”
This time, it’s my turn to snort.
“Hunter, no one thinks I have a “good reputation.” They think of me as a wild party girl who takes her clothes off at the drop of the hat. I have no idea how so many people know about my prison strip tease, but yeah, everyone seems to know and no one was even surprised. So I’m not worried about my reputation at all. ”
The huge man chuckles.
“I guess I didn’t think of it that way. And what’s this about the prison striptease again? Your dad mentioned a little, but I couldn’t pry the whole story out of him.”
I roll my eyes.
“It’s lame. There was a party, and I got into a fight with another girl. Before you know it, the cops showed up and I was thrown into the slammer! It was so unfair.”
Hunter knows me too well, and raises a dark brow.
“Was it really?”
“Okay, so yeah, I did punch that bitch. In the vagina,” I add. “But she deserved it!”
Hunter’s choking down laughter now.
“Okay, okay. Keep going. You’re in jail now.”
“Yeah, so they throw me into my own cell, and it was freezing. Like there was no blanket, and I was in a party dress, so I didn’t have a sweater or anything.
I was desperate to get out, and so I did a striptease for the guard on duty.
Don’t worry, he didn’t touch me or anything.
But yeah, that guy appreciates tits and ass, and soon, I was walking out of county, no problem. ”
Hunter’s brows go up.
“And there’s no record?”
“There isn’t,” I confirm. “Somehow every record of me being there disappeared. No fingerprints, no booking sheet, no nothing. So if anything, the striptease was totally worth it.”
My uncle whistles under his breath.
“Shit, honey. I’m impressed. You have some real skills.”
I wink, throwing my blonde hair back with one hand.
“You know it. I should give a lesson on how to escape from prison. But on a different note, are we really going to go through with this?”
He doesn’t look up from his lo mein. “With what, exactly?”
I roll my eyes.
“You know. The pastor thing. We have an appointment tomorrow afternoon.”
He lifts his gaze, and it’s like looking up at the high beams of a truck: sudden, dazzling, a little dangerous. “You want to bail?”
“No,” I say, and to my surprise, it’s true. “I just want to know what the plan is. It’s not every day you walk into a church office and get railed by your—” I glance away, cheeks prickling, “—by your uncle in front of another man.”
Hunter’s mouth curls up at one side. He drops his chopsticks into the carton, wipes his hands on a napkin, and leans both elbows on the island. “You’re a funny girl, Stella. And yes, I did rail your sweet, creamy pussy. Hard. And I don’t regret it at all.”
I blush, and he grins. Then, he says: “We’re going back. No hesitation.”
The admission makes my heart stutter. I swallow the impulse to tease, because I want to hear him say it again.
He doesn’t make me wait. “Honestly?” he says, voice going softer. “I’m looking forward to it. The pastor is—what’s the word—a dirty motherfucker. I want to see what he’ll make you do next time.”
My mouth is dry as sand. “You liked it?”
Hunter shrugs, a slow ripple that makes the muscles in his arms bunch and uncoil.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not into other dudes.
Never had the urge to cross swords or any shit like that.
But the way you looked when he licked your cunt—fuck, it was something else.
” He stares me down, all the way to the bone.
“You’re hot when you’re nervous, Stella. And even hotter when you give in.”
The words vibrate in the air, heavy as a bell. My knees knock together under the counter. “You wouldn’t be jealous?”
He makes a show of considering it, then grins. “Maybe I will be if he puts his cock in your pussy. Maybe I’ll end up fighting him for you. A duel in the office with our swords. Or pistols at dawn. Yeah, that could work.”
It’s so absurd I snort, and noodles fly out of my mouth. I clap a hand over my lips, mortified, but he just laughs, the sound deep and clean. It breaks the tension and stitches it back up tighter than before.
I recover, dabbing at my chin with the back of my hand. “You’re psycho.”
“Maybe,” he concedes, “but you like it.”
I don’t have a comeback. So I say what I’ve been trying not to say all night. “I think I want to see him again, too.”
Hunter raises his eyebrows, but it isn’t surprise—more like satisfaction. “I knew you would.”
The confession just sits there, between us, not going anywhere. I study the sesame seeds in my bowl, each one a tiny moon orbiting a planet of chicken. I pick up a piece, then set it down again.
“Why?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper. “Why does it feel so good when you make it sound so bad?”
Hunter doesn’t answer right away. He leans across the counter, blue eyes locked on mine, and says: “It’s supposed to feel good. That’s what makes it worth it.”
I shiver, but not from the cold.
He watches me for a minute, then says, “You want to go upstairs?”
I nod.
He stands, walks around the counter, and holds out a hand.
When I take it, his palm is warm and rough, callused in a way that doesn’t fit a billionaire.
I follow him out of the kitchen, past the living room, up the stairs.
Our footsteps echo in the empty house. It’s a sound I’ll remember forever: the hush before a storm.
At the top of the stairs, he turns and yanks me into him so fast I almost lose my balance.
His hands are at my waist, then in my hair, then sliding under the hem of my t-shirt to press hot against my back.
He kisses me, slow at first, then harder, his tongue pushing into my mouth like he’s trying to break through a wall.
I kiss back, harder. My hands are in his hair, then on his chest, then sliding down to his belt buckle, which is already coming undone.
He lifts me—literally lifts me, like I’m a sack of feathers—and sits me on the wide marble railing at the top of the stairs.
For a second, I panic—what if I fall, what if I crack my head open—but then he’s kissing my neck, my jaw, my collarbone, and the world shrinks to the four square feet where we’re tangled together.
His hand slips down the front of my shorts, past the elastic of my panties, and finds me wet and ready. He strokes me once, then twice, circling my clit with his thumb while his fingers dip lower. I gasp into his mouth, barely able to keep upright.
“Oooh!” I breathe. “Oh my god.”
“Good girl,” he whispers, his voice gone rough. “You’re always so fucking wet for me.”
I whimper, not even pretending to be cool anymore. “Please.”
“Please what?”
I can barely speak. “Please, fuck me.”
He grins, then slides two fingers inside me, pumping slow.
My head falls back, and the lights go blurry behind my eyes.
I don’t notice when he tugs my shorts off, or when he bends to press a kiss to my inner thigh, or when he sinks to his knees in front of me and buries his face in my cunt.
I only know that his tongue is electric, and his hands are everywhere, and that when I come, I scream so loud the sound echoes off the marble.
“Unnnh!” I cry out, throwing my head back. “Oh god mmmm, yes!”
Hunter continues to lick me through my orgasm, shushing me against the hot, swollenness of my cunt before standing.
“That’s my good girl,” he croons before suckling on my clit. “Always so horny for Daddy’s dick.”
Then, he stands, licking his lips, and kisses me again, the taste of me still on his tongue. He presses the broad head of his cock against my entrance, and I realize he’s naked from the waist down, his jeans and briefs kicked to the side. He’s huge, and the sight of him makes my whole body throb.
“Unnnh,” I groan, clinging to his broad shoulders as I’m penetrated. “Oooooh.”
“That’s my horny little whore,” he rasps, watching my face as I’m entered. “The only thing that can calm this hungry little pussy down is Daddy’s big dick, isn’t it? Your sweet horny little cunt needs a big dick to be satisfied.”
He pushes in, slow at first, then all at once. I cry out, my nails digging into his shoulders. He fucks me right there on the railing, deep and hard, hands gripping my ass as he drives into me over and over. I wrap my legs around his waist, holding on like I’ll die if I let go.
After what feels like hours, he slows, then pulls out. I’m shaking, barely able to sit up, but he’s not done.
He flips me over, so I’m bent over the railing, my ass high and exposed. He strokes my pussy with one hand, then slides his thumb up to press gently against my asshole.
“You’ll be expected to take it here,” he says, voice low. “Daddy’s horny man meat will go in this hole, too. Are you scared, Stella?”
I swallow, desperate. “Yes, Daddy, I’m scared. But I want it too. Just promise to go slow, okay?”
He doesn’t answer, merely letting out a low, satisfied chuckle. Then, he spits on his index finger and works it into my ass, slow and careful. I gasp at the taboo touch, but it feels good, and the burn fades fast.
“Oh god,” I moan deliriously, big breasts swaying as Hunter fingers me in the butt. “Mmm.”
He laughs hoarsely, pushing in and out, then adds a second finger into my anus, opening me up. As I moan, he begins stirring his fingers clockwise to the right, then to the left, stretching my asshole in preparation for his big daddy meat.
“That’s right,” Hunter rasps, watching with avid eyes as my butthole opens. “This is what my dirty little girl craves. Daddy’s mouth, fingers, and dick in your tender little asshole. You love being fucked in the ass, admit it.”
How can I admit it when I’ve never done anal before? But I’m too far gone to reply, and with another low grunt, Hunter lines his cock up and presses forward, the head breaching my ass with a hot, relentless pressure.
I moan, high and sharp, but he shushes me, rubbing my lower back as he pushes deeper. Inch by inch, he fills me, until my ass is impaled on his ten inch cock and can’t think of anything but how full I am.
“Unnh,” I grunt. “Oooh.”
He holds still, letting me adjust. “You okay?” he asks, voice almost gentle.
“Yes,” I pant. “More, Daddy. Please. Fill my ass.”
He lets out a low chuckle and then fucks me slow, then faster, then slow again, his hands gripping my hips so tight I know I’ll bruise. Each thrust hits deep inside my rectum, a place I didn’t know existed. The pleasure is wild, a different kind of high as I’m pounded hard in the ass.
“Oh!” I cry out. “Oh oh oh yes!”
Suddenly, it’s too much. My rectum clenches around the hard shaft in my ass and then dissolves into a series of violent spasms. Tears come to my eyes as pleasure shoots through my cunt, my asshole milking his dick furiously.
“Daddy!” I scream. “I’m coming.”
“Let your asshole come on my dick,” Hunter rasps from behind me. “Fuck yeah. Oh shit shit shit, I’m coming too!”
Then he erupts, groaning my name as he shudders, spurting loads of hot, bubbly spunk into my anus as I continue to scream and wail, my ass overflowing with his virile jizz.
“Oh!” I scream again. “Unnnnh!”
“Fuck,” Hunter groans against my shoulder. “Shit shit shit.”
We wail and scream for what feels like ages, but is probably only a few minutes. Afterwards, he pulls out slow, watching as his monster shaft emerges inch by inch from my ravaged anus. Then, he bends and presses his lips to the redness there, licking up his own spunk.
“Oh my god!” I gasp.
But Hunter merely gets a mouthful on his tongue, and kisses me so that I taste the salty sweetness too.
“Mmm,” I moan, swallowing that virile goodness. “So different.”
“It is, isn’t it?” he rasps. “The semen tastes even better when it’s been marinating in your asshole.”
With those words of filth, he wraps me in his arms and carries me to his room. We collapse on the bed, bodies tangled, skin slick with sweat.
We don’t say anything for a long time.
Then, in the dark, I whisper: “Next time, I want you both to fuck me.”
Hunter doesn’t ask who the other man is. He merely laughs, kisses the back of my neck, and says, “Anything you want, star girl.”
I close my eyes and drift, the night settling over me like a second skin, and for the first time in my life, I can’t wait for church.