On The Rocks

End of story.

As I was saying, the one hour turned out to be mind-blowing but practically impossible for me. Not Hunter… he was strong all the way through, but after he gave me three orgasms in about twenty-seven minutes, I was wiped out. I actually had to push him away from me and beg him to leave me alone, because my sensitive flesh literally couldn’t take anymore. He chuckled, pulled me up in his arms, and told me he’d give me a break. We lay there for about ten minutes, talking quietly, about Nascar racing of all things. Neither of us were fans, so not sure why we started talking about it. But when Hunter’s iPhone relayed there was five minutes left on his hour time limit, he pushed me onto my back and slid back down my body, his face going back between my legs.

And damn if he didn’t get me to come one more time before that hour was up—just before he crawled up my body and slid inside. He was merciless as he fucked me hard. I knew I didn’t have it in me for another orgasm, but it didn’t matter. I’d had enough, but it still made it no less special the way Hunter made me feel when he was inside of me. His body, his face, the way he touched me, the things he said, the sounds he made, the way he came… hard. Those things were all far more thrilling than the hour he had just spent worshiping me.

“Did you get your bid turned in?” Hunter asks me, drawing me out of my fond memories of Hunter’s sexuality and the way he makes me feel.

I turn over on my side toward him, tucking my hand under my chin. He turns toward me, mimicking the move, and our faces are close enough we can look straight into the other’s eyes, but not so close as to make our vision blurry.

“Yeah… they wanted the bids by email, so I sent it over this evening. They’re supposed to decide next week.”

“How long will that project last if you get the contract?” he asks as he scoots his lower half toward me, slipping one of his legs in between mine, and resting his hand on my hip. The move is warm and intimate, made from a desire just to touch our skin together and nothing more.

“Probably six months since we’re building ground up. It’s a great project. That, along with your remodel, will really help get me to where I want to go.”

Rubbing his thumb along my hipbone, he smiles at me and asks, “And where is it Gabby Ward wants to go?”

Good question. Where do I ultimately want to go? It’s not something I’ve let myself think about for the last three years, because I’ve been so focused on trying to keep my dad’s business growing. It’s a far cry from where I was three years ago, with a college degree within my grasp and a career as an educator.

This is also the first time, in a very long time, that I’ve thought about being a teacher. I didn’t allow myself to be sad about it when I dropped out of college. I had enough grief over my dad passing to keep me busy. But now… thinking about it, I feel wistful and dejected.

“Where did Gabby go just now?” Hunter asks softly.

I blink hard and realize that my gaze had slid down to Hunter’s chest, and my mind had completely drifted off. Dragging my eyes up, I find him watching me with amusement.

“I zoned out,” I admit, “was thinking about college.”

“Do you want to go back?”

“I don’t know. I mean… I never thought I did, but it just hit me a little bit right now… maybe I miss the thought of being a teacher.”

“You can always go back to college any time you want, Gabby,” he points out.

“Not while running a business, I can’t. I mean, I’d want to finish at UNC.”