As though he couldn’t hold back a second longer, he slammed into me without warning, his grunts all around me. He fucked me hard and fast, filling me whole with every stroke inside me. I wrapped my arms around him, holding him tightly as he moved in and out of me. I shut my eyes, lost to the pleasure, feeling…feeling pleased wrapped around him. I couldn’t get enough of his cock—didn’t want him to come, didn’t want this to end. And Hunter sensed it too, or maybe he felt the same way because he’d move fast and hard, and then he would slow down completely, like he was drawing this out.
“Want you to still feel me in the morning…” he whispered, his heart beating raucously against my chest. “Want you to want this so damn bad…”
I never recognized myself with Hunter. The desperation that slicked my skin, the desire that morphed to savage need as I dug my nails deep into his skin. I panted aloud, searching for his mouth, making sounds I’d be mortified of in different circumstances. I wanted him deep inside me. Needed to feel him at my centre. Needed to feel him let go around me, roaring in my ear through his orgasm. Most of all, I needed to know he wanted my body with the same depth I needed his. That he was using me as an anchor to reality like I used his. Because at the end of the day, we were the same, and I didn’t want to admit that out loud. But I would tell him through the art of fucking that I understood. That no matter how much I longed for a taste of the other side, I was still that poor girl he grew up with.
We were the same.
We would always be the same.
He fucked me until he came hard inside me. His grunts were deep, pained, his mouth buried in my neck. I stroked his hair as he went still, his heart hammering against my chest. He finally pulled back to look down at me, and there it was, and there my heart broke.
Vulnerability and pain entwined in the depths of his eyes.
His lips parted, his breaths shallow now as he looked into me.
Hot tears ran down my face. We didn’t speak when he climbed off me and gathered our clothes. He stepped out of the truck, bare chested and climbed into the front. The engine roared and the heater blazed. He sat there, staring straight ahead as I slowly sat up and slipped into my work uniform.
I glanced at the rear-view, heart jumping when his eyes met mine. He stared at me for a brief moment before looking back at the road. He didn’t wait for me to climb into the front. He drove down the path to the apartment building while I sat in the back.
He parked out front and looked down into his lap, waiting for me to leave as the rain continued to pelt the roof. I didn’t move for a few moments. My hands were clasped together, my nails nervously digging into my skin when I quietly said, “You want to come in?”
Hunter didn’t reply. His body didn’t even register my words.
I tried again. “Hunt, please come inside.”
His voice was faint when he replied, “I’ll pass.”
My heart sank. “Why?”
“You know why.”
“Leo?”
He didn’t answer.
I sighed. “He might still be out.”
Leo was busy lately. Half of me wondered if he was avoiding me. The other half had eavesdropped enough to know he truly was busy. He came home super late, or not at all. But I hoped he was there. I wanted them to talk, to mend things. I didn’t know what was so broken between them, and no matter how hard I pried, they said nothing to me.
“I’m not going in,” Hunter said simply. “I don’t want to see how you live, Skye. I know enough just hearing about it, alright? Seeing it…” His words trailed off. He cleared his throat. “Stop asking, alright? The answer is no.”
“Okay,” I whispered as a wave of hopelessness tore through me. I sniffed, fighting back tears when I said, “How do I fix this then, Hunt? We just had sex, you were inside me, and yet now it’s like…you’re still so far away.”
“It’s not you,” he said softly. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He lifted his head up, letting out a tired breath. “It’s not up to you to fix shit, alright? You keep trying to mend things, and sometimes, Skye, sometimes they’re meant to be broken.”
I swallowed down the lump in my throat, nodding once. I rested my hand on the door, gently asking, “When will I see you?”
I didn’t know how long it would be before I saw him again. I was terrified he’d retreat once more, and I’d have to chase him all over again.
“Not long,” he said.
“You promise?”
He looked at the rear-view mirror, meeting my gaze. “I promise.”