CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
GRACE
“Pull over here,” I tell Hunter.
He pulls to the curb, TNT idling as we take in the surroundings. The lawns around here are so green they’re almost neon, large sycamores lining the perimeter, the low sun turning them into soft silhouettes. As a final resting place, you could sure do worse.
“You want me to come?” asks Hunter.
I smile across at him. “No. I’ve got this.”
I make my way up to the hill to a fresh series of burial plots, referring to the map to find Rachel’s. I arrive at a simple marble tombstone. It was the least I could do.
I stand before her grave, the emotion taking a stranglehold on me now this whole sordid business is done and dusted. “Sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral,” I tell her. “Too busy trying to stay alive and all.”
A pause knowing there’s going to be no response.
“I brought you something.”
I place the bouquet of flowers down on the dirt—mixed white dahlias. “We got them, by the way—the Johnson brothers. I thought you’d like to know.”
And I swear to god I can almost hear her voice in my head, the light trill of it from better times, happier times. I spin around, looking down to the car where Hunter’s tapping his hand against the wheel. “Oh, yeah. What do you think? Cute, huh? And he’s got a cock like a baby’s arm, which is great, but… I don’t know. I think this could be it. I think I’ve fallen for this guy.”
The realization forces a tear. I wipe it away. “God, look at me. I start a relationship and turn into a human river rapid.” I look down at the grave, at a life too short, one not fully realized and I promise myself I’ll live for the both of us, make every single second of every single day count. It’s the least I can do.
“We’ve got this presentation to get to,” I continue. “The mayor’s awarding us some crappy medals, and I just love getting my full-dress uniform on, though I’m dying to see how Hunter scrubs up. I’ve got my own ‘award ceremony’ planned for him a little later.”
I breathe out, looking up at the horizon. “I guess I’ll be going then.” I get down and place my hand on the freshly moved earth. “You rest now, get that peace you deserve. I’ll be back as soon as I can, back to remind myself why I do this.”
*
Fresh from the shower, Hunter examines his medal.
We’re back at my place. It still looks like a bombshell hit it, but clean-up can wait until tomorrow and the much-needed leave that awaits.
“I went to hell and back and all I got was this medal,” I say from the bed.
He places the medal down, the corded muscles in his arm flexing. “I think I got much more than that.”
I watch him move towards me from the shadows, the soapy, masculine scent of his body lighting the tender space between my legs.
He sees it, shedding his towel and continuing to stalk forward, his length thick and hard. He looks down. “See what you do to me?”
“How can I be sure you weren’t popping Viagra back there?”
He takes an ankle and drags me down to the edge of the bed.
“What are you do—”
I’m silenced by his mouth. He climbs over me and pulls me against his body still warm and soft from the shower, beaded droplets of water where my hands meet his shoulders. He kisses me deeply, with more passion than ever before, his fingers splaying over my bare breasts.
“You’re incredible,” he whispers, his tongue running over my lips before slipping between them.
Now that the danger has passed, the act somehow seems more intimate, tempered.
All the while his fingers mirror the movement, everything working in perfect synchronization to once again bring me to the brink.
He hand runs down to my core, his fingers gently stroking, probing my once again wet depths. I let out a soft sigh at the sensation of his lips against my neck… my chest… his head sliding lower and lower until those fingers at my slick core are replaced by his tongue, flicking and swirling at my most sensitive spot.
I groan aloud, possibly too loud, but I don’t care, because I have a connection with this man I’ve never felt, even anticipated I would, before. I don’t want to spend the next day or week with him, even a year. I want to spend my life like this.
God, just the sole sensation of his mouth on me is enough, how deep he takes me with his lips and tongue alone. He adds two of his fingers, sliding them easily into my wetness, the arousal building and climbing yet higher.
His head shifts, and I crane my look to meet his eyes. Everything I need to know is within them—the hunger to please me, to share my body and pleasure.
I can’t help but quiver at the sight, the sheer thought of him licking and sucking me there, finger-fucking me into oblivion. The sensation heightens further. I let my head fall back, my back kinking upwards and the tawny towers of my nipples reaching for the roof.
I tighten around his fingers, squeeze them in satisfaction.
I can’t take any more.
I sit up and lift his face to mine, crushing my lips against his and tasting myself upon them. I run a hand down to cup his cock, shifting to get him onto his back so I can return the favor.
I take his cock in hand and slide my mouth over him.
He gathers my hair up, fisting it in one hand and moaning low. I allow him to guide my head, the simple pressure upon it, the subtle pull delicious.
I let my lips drop almost to the root of him before drawing back upwards.
I can’t help but admire his control, the way he fights to contain himself.
He thrusts lightly upwards as I keep a hand wrapped around his length, a firm grip there while my head bobs over him.
I lift away and swirl my tongue around the tip of his member, continuing to stroke him with even, downward motions. He grunts and tightens his grip on my hair, struggling against the tension building in his body.
I know precisely what is coming, but I don’t want this to end so soon. I let go and come up.
He reaches for me, but not before I swing a leg over him and sink down on his hard cock, sink down until he’s buried deep in the wet glove of my pussy.
He draws me close to him, close to his hammering heart, kissing me on my lips and neck, forever searching for new places.
His hands squeeze my buttocks as I close my eyes and concentrate on the sensation, the heady swirl of pleasure we’re creating.
I ride him with all the energy I can muster, a prickling, sticky pleasure building. He captures my mouth and somehow pulls me even closer, like he cannot get enough, like he has to go through me.
My own heart swells—not only at the sensation, but this strange connection, a tenderness beyond sex.
The pleasure starts to wash over me, drawing up from the inside.
He’s mumbling against me, barely coherent.
“Hunter, I—” but I don’t manage to get the words out.
Everything rushes inwards, an implosion I’m completely unprepared for. Fat tears fall from my cheeks against his chest as I’m lost in it, folding and reborn.
My legs go limp even as he grows harder inside me. A single squeeze and he can’t take any more, but through the salt of my tears, my joy, I want him to remember this.
I bear down upon him to meet his thrusts. He grasps me around the waist and fucks me as deep as he can go.
And then it happens.
A second climax crests over the first. I tilt my hips forward, my clit finding the hard surface of his pelvis and with it a new, greater release again.
“Oh, god…”
He’s fucking me so hard, so fast, but all I am conscious of is the sound of our bodies slapping together, the pain and pleasure as he goes as far as he can.
With a final thrust he starts to convulse, crying out against my own loud exhalations, the two of us coming together.
I grasp at the sheets and shiver at the enormity of it, the heated tempest that wants to consume me whole.
It’s only when he slides out of my body I realize I’ve been holding my breath. His hands stroke my stomach, his calming words my compass.