“Yeah, but it shouldn’t be like this. Fuck, Em. You deserve so much better than what I have to offer you.”
“Just screw me already.”
He froze against me, panting, then set me down with a groan. I reached down to pull off my panties and stuffed them into the little purse hanging from my shoulder. Hunter ripped his pants open, and I watched in panting fascination as he rolled on a condom.
Then his hands reached for my thighs, shoving up the skirt as he lifted me again. Jesus, he was so strong, it was like I weighed nothing. I felt his c**k against my bare skin as I wrapped my legs around him, his length silky steel against my opening. Then my back hit the wall and he shoved into me.
I screamed.
Holy shit. I’d expected Hunter to go slow for the first time . . . (Although I’d expected to be in a bed, too, not some nasty alley.) Instead, he slammed home and I felt it all the way in the back of my throat. I cried out again, then leaned forward and bit the side of his neck. His c**k jerked inside me as he groaned. Then he started moving.
I don’t even know how to describe what I felt. Hunter didn’t hold back at all, nothing. I took all of him and I knew I’d be sore as hell in the morning, but I didn’t give a shit. The stretch of his c**k deep inside, the pain of his fingers digging into my ass cheeks?
I loved it.
My body was a mess of lust and longing and desire, all trapped inside for way too long. I didn’t care that people were walking up and down the street not ten yards away. I could smell the trash from the Dumpster, I could see the strip of stars shining above us through the tops of the buildings, and it all just added to the intensity of the moment. I felt encapsulated, caught up in a moment that would last forever.
Objectively, we didn’t hold on for very long.
Hunter’s c**k dragged along my clit with every thrust, and he paused to grind himself against me in a way that pushed me right up to the edge of sanity. Then he pulled back and slammed into me again. I swear the tip of his c**k tried to push through my cervix, he went so deep.
That did it.
I cried as I blew up, clenching down on him deep inside while my fingernails tried to dig through the leather of his cut.
Holy shit . . .
Hunter grunted and thrust four more times, and then he came, too, cursing. I couldn’t believe nobody heard us or tried to see what we were doing. If they had, I wouldn’t have given a shit.
I’d done it.
I’ve finally done it, I realized with a thrill, tears rolling down my face. I didn’t even care that my back was raw, or that I’d be walking funny for a week. I didn’t regret any of it, not for an instant.
“Well, that was pretty good,” I said after a minute, sniffling.
Hunter grunted, lowering me to my feet.
“Glad it was adequate,” he said wryly, leaning down to kiss the tip of my nose. I pulled away from him, straightening my skirt and digging for my panties. Now I felt weirdly embarrassed.
“Um, can you turn around and give me some privacy?” I asked.
Hunter just looked at me, a strange expression on his face.
“No.”
Well, that was direct. I decided getting out of the alley was more important than exploring our postcoital boundaries, so I pulled up my panties with as much dignity as I could under the circumstances. Hunter caught my hand, tugging me back into his body. His hand slid into my hair again, this time the fingers gentle, and he kissed my bruised lips softly.
“That was f**kin’ incredible, babe.”
“Yeah. I know,” I said, smirking through my still-watery eyes. I must’ve looked like a clown.
Hunter smacked my ass.
“Don’t get cocky on me yet,” he muttered. “I’m not finished with you.”
Unfortunately, he was finished, because that’s when everything fell to shit.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HUNTER
Em’s phone blew up first.
We’d just reached the bike when the first call came through. She dug it out of her purse and frowned down at the number.
“It’s Dad,” she muttered. “I wonder if he has radar that tells him I just did something he’d hate?”
She sent the call to voice mail, laughing up at me like we shared a secret, which I guess we did. But then the cell went off again. This time it was Cookie.
“Shit,” Em swore. “Do you think he called her?”
“Answer,” I told her, feeling uncomfortable. Things had gone way too well this evening—we were due for disaster. She nodded and took the call, and I knew it was bad by the way she gasped and swayed. That was when my own phone went off. Burke.
“Yeah?” I answered.
“We got a serious problem,” he said. “Mason is dead.”
“Fuck,” I said, keeping a close eye on Em. She’d started pacing with short, jerky strides. “I didn’t realize we were quite so close to the end.”
“It wasn’t the cancer that got him,” Burke replied, his voice grim. “Someone shot him execution-style in his own bedroom. His old lady found him. She was out of the house when it happened, thank f**k.”
“He was alone?” I asked, startled. Mason shouldn’t have been alone, retirement plans or not.
“No,” Burke said. He paused, and my stomach sank, because nothing good happens after pauses like that one. “He had two brothers with him, Tucker and Dob. They think Tucker’s gonna pull through. Dob was DOA.”
“Fuck,” I muttered. I glanced over at Em, who was dialing frantically. Whatever was going on there, it wasn’t good, either. “What do you need from me?”