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“Hunter, Hunter. Fucking please. Please,” I chanted as he toyed with me. His spit-slick fingertip teased my hole as his tongue tortured my cock. I tried to reach down to stroke myself, but he grabbed my wrist again and pinned it beside me on the bed.
“No.”
I made an embarrassing noise that sounded too much like a whiny whimper for my comfort. His eyes met mine and locked on them as he finally breached my hole and found just the right spot as he upped the pace on my dick. I came screaming into my fist.
My stomach muscles clenched as my balls emptied into Hunter’s mouth.
I felt spent. Empty. Hollow.
But I also felt vulnerable and fragile in a way that made me want to run.
I glanced over at Hunter as he moved up to flop next to me. His cheeks were flagged red, and his eyes were wet from gagging. Damp hair ringed his face, and his beard had a string of come in it.
“You’re fucking stunning,” I said without thinking. I thumbed away the string before I leaned over and kissed his swollen lips.
This kiss was different. Tired and slow, soft and sweet.
Utterly and completely terrifying.
“Now I really have to go,” I said, forcing the words through my teeth and trying my hardest to accompany them with a smile.
Hunter’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment before he did the same kind of forced smile. “Yeah. Yeah, obviously. Sure.”
I moved off the bed to search for my clothes. The silence in the room crawled over my skin as I dressed. I couldn’t stand it.
“You, ah, have big plans tomorrow with your family?” I asked.
This was a stupid question—anyone in the Thicket who didn’t have big Thanksgiving plans with their own family would find themselves temporarily adopted by a family who had big Thanksgiving plans—but Hunter didn’t call me on it.
“Yeah. Yep.” He got up and slipped his own clothes back on. “Mom and Dad serve their meal around four. What about you?”
“I think we eat at noon. Uncle Amos deliberately does that so no one can watch the Packers play the Lions, and so we’ll be done eating before the next game starts.”
Hunter huffed out a laugh, and the sound released some of the tension in my shoulders. “Why the Packers hate?”
“I’m so glad you asked because I asked this very question last night, and now I can quote you chapter and verse. Ahem. Apparently, in 2012, the Tennessee Titans gave up fifty-five straight points to the Green Bay Packers before making one measly touchdown. To this very day, Amos still occasionally wakes up crying about it—a fact which Emmaline apparently knew before their marriage but which didn’t stop her from marrying him anyway, which goes to show there’s someone for everyone out there.” Hunter laughed, and I grinned back. “Needless to say, there will be no Ackers-Pay on the television in the Nutter household. But Savannah says everyone watches it on their cell phones under the table, and Jaden said he’ll distribute low-profile wireless earbuds to anyone interested.”
This riveting football conversation lasted until we were standing at the front door, the two of us shifting awkwardly as we tried to figure out how to say goodbye.
Hunter looked down at his bare feet, then at the doorknob, then at my chin before starting the circuit again. “You know, uh… if… if you want to watch the game highlights later…” He ran a hand through his hair before clutching the back of his neck, and his eyes flicked to mine again. “I have a subscription to NFL Sunday Ticket.”
It was hard to describe how little I cared about the Packers game, and still, I found myself saying, “Yeah, maybe!”
At the same time, Hunter said, “Or not.”
We both spoke again.
“Oops. I mean—”
“Sorry, you go ahead—”
I reached out and clapped a hand over Hunter’s mouth before forcing him to meet my eyes. “I’d like to come over later tomorrow if I can. I’m not sure yet how things are going to go with the family, and I promised my mom I wouldn’t bail on the important bits. But if you’re still up for it when I’m done…” I moved my hand away and gave him my phone. “Put your number in?”
Hunter scraped his upper lip with his bottom teeth to hide a grin while he punched in the information. “Just text me,” he said. “No big deal if not.”
“Yeah, no, sure,” I said intelligently. “Of course.”
We stared at each other for another beat before I leaned over and pressed a kiss to the side of his mouth, staying there long enough to inhale him one last time. Even if I was able to come over, that would be hours and hours away, and I wasn’t sure I could last that long without one more taste.
