“Hunter! Please! I need—I need—” His name is a high-pitched, keening cry as he climbs to his feet, fumbles his pants open, pulls out a condom.
“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispers as he thrusts two fingers inside me at just the right angle. “I’ve got you.”
And then he’s there, hot and hard and huge as he slides inside of me. As he sends me flying over the edge.
And still he’s not done as he continues thrusting inside of me. As he whispers wicked, wild things to me. As he takes me more completely than I’ve ever been taken. As he pulls from me more than I’ve ever been willing to give.
He takes me up and over again and only then—as his name breaks on my lips and my body clenches around his—only then does he come. And as he empties himself inside of me, I let myself go. Let myself trust. And slide deeply, irrevocably into love.
Chapter 21
Hunter
I wake up smiling.
The feel of it is alien to my face—it’s been so long since I’ve had something to smile about—so alien, in fact that it takes me a moment to recognize what I’m feeling. To realize that I’m happy.
It’s not that my fear and worry for Heather isn’t still here—of course it is. But as Emerson sighs, as she cuddles into my side and drapes an arm over my waist, I feel more at peace than I have since Heather was first diagnosed.
I wait for the guilt to come, the self-loathing that has plagued me for months because I’m healthy and she’s not. Because I can go to work, play with her kids, make love, live and she can’t.
For once it doesn’t come. Not with Emerson wrapped around me, her sweet body pressed so close to mine that I can feel her breathe. So close that her crazy, glorious hair is actually tickling my nose.
Moving as little as possible, I reach a hand out to her nightstand, where I dropped my phone last night when we finally went to bed—sometime after round three turned into a very enjoyable round four. I find it after about thirty seconds of searching and pull it in close to check my messages.
Nothing from Heather and nothing from Marta or the kids, either, which I take as a good sign. Still, I fire off a message to both Heather and Marta before rolling onto my side and pulling Emerson even closer.
She’s so lovely like this. So, so lovely that she literally takes my breath away. I want to lean forward, to press kisses to the star-shaped birthmark on her cheek that experience has taught me is as sexy as it looks. To slide down a little and take one of her gorgeous raspberry nipples into my mouth. To suck until she wraps her legs around my waist and begs me to slip inside of her, to make her come.
I’m about to do just that, to lean forward and kiss her awake in the hopes of getting to make her come again, when her big blue eyes blink open. And she smiles at me, all soft and sweet and warm. So warm it makes my heart melt and my dick stand at attention.
“Come here,” she whispers before I can say a thing. And then she’s pulling me close, wrapping herself around me just as I hoped. Kissing her way down my throat before pushing at my chest and rolling us over so that she’s straddling my hips.
Right here, right now, she might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Sleepy eyes, relaxed face, breasts begging for my hands—for my mouth. But when I reach for them, for her, she takes my hand in hers, presses hot, openmouthed kisses in a line across my palm. Then pulls my hand to her breast and holds it there even as she leans forward to snag a condom off her nightstand.
Seconds later, she’s lifting u
p on her knees and then lowering herself onto me, one slow inch at a time. It feels so good that I’m sweating before I’m halfway inside her, my whole body on fire for this tiny slip of a woman with her big mouth and even bigger talent.
Remnants of last night’s painting experiment are streaked across her, me, the sheets, but that only turns me on more. She looks a little debauched this morning, a little used—in a good way—and I love that I’m the man she let touch her like that. That she lets see her like this.
That she lets me inside of her.
And then she’s bracing her hands on my stomach as she moves up and down, taking me so slowly, so hotly, that it’s all I can do not to come right now.
It’s harder than it should be, considering I’m not a fourteen-year-old kid. But she looks so good with her head thrown back to reveal the elegant curve of her throat. With her fiery hair cascading over her shoulders and down her breasts. With her face open and vulnerable and aroused.
She’s moaning now, her high, full breasts jiggling just a little as she rides me harder. Faster. She’s close—I can see it in the way her pale skin flushes a rosy red. Can hear it in the way her breath breaks a little with each rise and fall of her body. Can feel it in the way her hands tighten into fists on my belly and her body clenches more and more tightly around mine.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper to her, slipping my thumb between her slick folds and circling her clit—once, twice, a third time.
And then she’s crying out, her voice breaking as her sex clamps down on my dick. She calls my name as our gazes lock, and then I’m coming, too. And that’s when it hits me. I’d be okay waking up just like this—with this particular woman—for a long, long time. Maybe even forever.
When it’s over—when she’s slumped against me and both of us can finally breathe again—I ask, “Will you come to the game on Sunday? My niece and nephew are coming and I’d love for you to meet them.”
Her startled eyes shoot to mine and I nearly curse at myself for jumping the gun. I know I’m moving fast, but right now it’s not like I have a choice. Parts of my life are spinning completely out of my control and there’s nothing I can do about them. I want to keep seeing Emerson, want to make her a part of my life. But to do that, she needs to know about what’s coming in the next few months. And, if we’re still together then, what will come after.
I open my mouth—start to explain though I don’t even like thinking the words—but before I can say anything, Emerson smiles. “Of course, I’d love to come to the game—and meet your niece and nephew. How old are they?”