by Coralee June
“Are you trying to make me come so I won't ask questions?”
“Maybe.”
Hunter stood up and ran a bloody hand through his blond hair, licking his lips like he was trying to taste me on them. “Why don't you go take a shower?” I asked.
“You going to help me?”
I lifted up my cast-covered arm and raised my eyebrow. “Yeah, that's not happening.”
“Fair enough. I'll be right back.”
I got cozy on the couch as he showered, trying not to let my imagination run away with me. I went to that safe space in my mind where I didn't think about trauma or death or empty, glassy eyes staring back at me. Hunter seemed so comfortable with death. He was fearless and devoted to destruction. It made me wonder what made him the way that he was. While my mother was consumed with her fears, Hunter became them.
But why?
When the shower shut off, I sat up a little straighter on the couch. I pulled the soft gray blanket over my legs and forced my eyes not to stare at the hallway, waiting for Hunter’s return. His bare feet padded down the hallway, and I gasped when he rounded the corner.
Wearing nothing but a fluffy white towel and a tired grin, Hunter strutted toward me. The only thing hiding his cock from me was the loose grip he had on the towel.
“You’re naked,” I said, sounding stupid.
“My clothes were bloody.”
“I'm sure you can borrow something of Mack's,” I said.
“Come to bed with me, Roe.”
Hunter grabbed my hand and pulled me up, dragging me down the hall toward my bedroom.
He pushed me on the bed with a gentle shove, then dropped his towel. I stared at his glorious body, watching his proud cock jerk to attention. Like everything else about Hunter, his dick was impressive and thick, long enough to make me nervous and round enough to make my mouth drop open in shock.
“I'm not fucking you,” I said, feeling like a liar while staring at the little delicious bead of precum collecting on the head of his cock. I licked my lips.
“I was thinking I would give you some answers tonight, actually,” Hunter replied before climbing onto the mattress. He crawled up my body in a predatory way that made me hum.
“Do you know the different bases?”
I snorted, a completely unattractive sound. “Bases? As in baseball? Like kissing is first base, second base is some boob action, third is oral and home...” my voice trailed off.
“You don't seem like the type of girl afraid to say sex, Roe,” Hunter joked.
“I'm not,” I replied defiantly.
“Right...” Hunter continued to crawl up my body until he was hovering over my lips. I glanced at the bandages covering his arm and frowned at the blood pooling beneath the bandage and seeping through. “Ignore it. I'm fine,” he ordered. “I'm going to let you ask a question. Each answer, and I get to steal a base.”
I looked him up and down, my eyes peering at the bandage on his arm and the way his muscles were flexed. “Seems like a fair game. I can ask anything?”
A flash of uncertainty crossed his face. “If I don't want to answer, then the game stops. I know you want me as bad as I want you right now. So I guess you should ask smart questions if you want to get off, Pretty Debt.”
Fucker. I guess that means any questions about the past or how he knew me were off-limits. I leaned forward to whisper in his ear, noting how he smelled like my citrus body wash. “Deal.”
Hunter smiled, then bit his lip, moving his body to lie beside mine as I settled on the mattress. “What's your first question, then?” he asked, almost impatiently.
“Did...” I began slowly. “Did you kill someone tonight?”
Hunter broke out in a deep belly laugh before rolling over to face me. Our eyes collided, mine mirroring fear, his filled with amusement. “Why are you asking questions you already know the answer to, Pretty Debt?”
Shit. He did. I knew Hunter was dangerous, deadly, and dark. But the reality of it was now staring me in the face. Hunter didn't bother answering directly. I wasn't sure if it was his way of keeping his crimes under wraps or if he didn't see the point in admitting what we both already knew. He simply leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine with unbridled passion. His sweeping tongue and certain mouth poured passion like sweet honey into me. Our teeth clashed. We nipped at one another, and I felt every prod and groan.
We kissed forever. Long, slow, hard, fast. We groaned, and I ached for our bodies to move. I wanted his palm on my breasts. But he didn’t cross the barrier of passion, no matter how much I urged him with my body. I craved his touch and knew the only way to get it. “Next question,” I rasped while pulling away. He grinned wickedly at me.
“So needy, Pretty Debt,” he teased.
I was desperate for him and worried that this question would stop everything. I debated for a moment about asking but decided that I couldn’t continue if I didn’t know. “Does killing get you...off? Are you turned on because you murdered someone? I just need to know if...”
“If I'm hard as a rock because I split three skulls?” he spat with a cruel look.
“Th-three?” I sputtered.
“Three,” he confirmed. “You know I work for bad people, Roe.”
I swallowed. “I’m scared to waste a question asking what you do for those bad people,” I admitted.
Hunter wrapped his large hand around my neck and leaned in to growl his response. “I wouldn’t answer if you did.” His lips trailed the edge of my ear as he continued to speak. “I'm not turned on because I killed, Roe. I'm not a serial killer that fetishes death. I'm hot because I was in pain and you walked downstairs in your skimpy little robe and you didn't get scared. You cared for me. You took care of me and tried dressing my wound. Compassion is what got me hot, Roe.”
“Are you not used to compassion, Hunter?”
“Is that another question?”
“Sure.”
“No. No, I'm not. I'm used to the worst of humanity. I grew up thinking I was born in hell. I've spent my life meeting devils and ending their lives.”
“I...Hunter...” I was speechless.
“No more questions. Come here and let me taste you.”
In one swift move, my robe was gone and my tank top was torn down the center. The sounds of fabric being ripped filled my small bedroom, and then his hot mouth wrapped around my nipple. My back arched off the bed, and my body thrashed. I felt so fucking hot and sensitive.
He grabbed at my breasts, kneading and squeezing, whispering prayers over my skin as he worshipped me. “You're so fucking beautiful, Pretty Debt. I feel like you're too precious to touch.”
“Please don't stop,” I begged.
“I couldn't even if I wanted to,” Hunter assured me before moving to hover over my body once more. The blood on the bandage continued to pool as he licked swirling designs on my stomach and sunk lower and lower and lower.
His teeth pulled at the waistband of my panties, and he tugged them down, over my rounded ass, over my thick thighs, down my shins and completely off.
I wasn't a shy person. I'd had sex before. I was liberal with my body. But being completely bared to Hunter while knowing he was about to taste my cunt was a vulnerable experience I treasured. He made it all feel like new. He dove in and breathed in my scent, moaning as he wrapped his arms around my thighs, effectively pinning me down.
The anticipation was brutal. I wanted his tongue on my clit. I wanted to squirm with pleasure and feel him pull bliss by his teeth, but he made me wait. He exhaled and waited for me, waited for me to be so over the edge of desire that a single touch could send me soaring.
“Are you going to make me come or what, Hunter?” I asked.
He hummed and tenderly kissed my inner thigh. There was delicate affection in his touch. I preened at the look of adoration in his eyes. I was terrified by how easily his touch comforted me.
“With pleasure, Pretty Debt,” he replied before licking me long and slow up my
entire slit. He savored and moaned until stopping at my sensitive nub. He wrapped his lips around it and hummed.
“Oh fuck!” I cried out as his tongue flicked over my bundle of nerves. I was practically purring as his skilled tongue circled and teased and vibrated against me. Slick heat coated his chin as I rode his face. He was determined, licking me in that punishing sort of way that felt like too much and not enough at the same time.
His hard body pinned me down, though I ached to writhe. He groaned and cursed and prayed into my pussy as he tasted every drop of my pleasure. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he said with a gasp before diving back into my heat. I wasn’t sure how long we’d battled for bliss. He was a determined little soldier. His obsession became a tangible sensation that built and built and built within me.
I came unexpectedly, the passion so sudden and intense that it shot out of me like a bullet from a gun. I cried out and gripped the sheets, my mouth dropped open in ecstasy. Pure life and pleasure exploded on his tongue, and he lapped it up like the greedy fucking stalker he was.
When I was done, he got up and wiped my cum from his mouth with the back of his hand. The look was erotic, his eyes burning hot with intensity and desire. I looked down and noticed his hard cock staring back at me. I wanted my fucking home run. I wanted to feel him pulsing inside of me.
But I wanted answers more.
“Last question?” he asked while easing his way back up and positioning himself at my entrance. He was greedy and ready. “Ask it,” he begged in a raspy voice.
I swallowed, bleeding with hope and acceptance. I was hoping he wanted me enough to give me the answers I craved. But I knew without a shadow of a doubt that this sensual moment between us would end the second my question left my lips. I was giving up a chance to feel this god of a man inside of me for the idea of truth.
“What debt are you repaying, Hunter?”
Hunter stilled.
His face slipped back into that familiar expression of pain. He pulled away from me and sat on the bed.
“Game over, Roe.”
Yeah. Game over.
ROE
Lies
Paint designs in the shape of intimacy on my skin. Laugh like it’s a sin.
You hold your breath. The air I breathe is a secret you keep.
Filthy, nasty, dirty man.
Knowledge hoarder. Pleasure destroyer.
Hooded eyes and shadowed face.
Disgrace.
I try not to think about my mother. I rarely invited her into my everyday thoughts. I didn't linger on her death or make decisions based on the trauma she smeared across my soul. I didn't want to be a cliche of parental issues.
My loss was more like a living, breathing intrusion. Mom’s memory came to me at odd moments. She snuck up on me, like a knife in the back. I’d be doing normal things—like showering—when I’d remember that it's possible to drown in two inches of water.
Or when I crossed the street, I’d think about how easily one could get hit by a car.
My favorite meals were ruined by thoughts of poison and food contamination.
My favorite places were ruined by crime statistics.
My favorite people were ruined with the idea that nothing ever lasted.
Her manic face flashed across my mind as I was trying to get to the bottom of Nicole's reasons for befriending me. She was talking to my cheek as I put my books away. I wondered what would happen if I put my head inside of the locker and someone slammed it shut. My dead mother whispered over my skin that my impulse to escape this conversation with Nicole would certainly snap my neck.
“You haven't returned any of my calls and are avoiding me in the hallway. I don't understand the problem,” Nicole said, drawing me out of my morbid thoughts. I let out a sigh before turning to face her as she whined. “You said I could date Joel, but now you're ghosting me.”
I tapped my foot on the tile floor, wishing I could drown in a pool of coffee. I was so fucking tired. So fucking plagued with thoughts about everything. Hunter had been distant since our almost fuck. I wasn't sure if he was dealing with the aftermath of his murder or if he was avoiding me, but I spent a ridiculous amount of time focusing on Nicole to keep myself from overanalyzing it too much.
“I'm not avoiding you because you're dating Joel, though you might want to talk to him about his motivations,” I finally replied.
“What? What is that supposed to mean?” Her tone was snappy and quick. Too defensive for a productive conversation.
I debated on telling her that Joel was just with her to get back at me, but that sounded petty and self-centered. Even if it was the truth, Nicole wasn’t in the headspace to hear it. Joel was this odd mix of compassionate, protective, assholish, and selfish. I never knew which emotion I was going to get from him. Just because he showed me his asshole side at the club didn't mean he wasn't showing Nicole that he knew how to give a fuck from time to time.
“Why are you friends with me?” I asked Nicole. “I mean really. Why are we friends?”
Her face turned pale. “What do you mean? We hang out and get along well enough.”
“But you don't really know me,” I replied. “I'm sure by now you know my reputation. We hang out when we're bored. But there is zero substance to our friendship whatsoever.”
“Don't be ridiculous. We spend time together,” Nicole said.
“But we don’t really know anything about one another.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s not like you’ve given me much of an opportunity. I’ve asked about your life—your parents—and you shut me out. I learned fairly quickly that you wouldn’t open up to me.” She wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t make this any easier. “I mean, does your uncle even know you have friends? My parents know about you,” she added.
“Of course your parents know about me,” I said in a low voice. “That's the part that worries me. Everyone in this town has their ideas about me. Most of those notions aren’t very good. Are you friends with me to get back at your parents?” I asked.
Nicole averted her gaze, and I knew then what her answer was. I was nothing but a tool to get her parents to listen. I knew they were absent. Hell, they were gone so often that even I hadn’t met them, not that I wanted to. Mr. and Mrs. Knight were like abstract shadows over her life, and I didn’t understand it.
Nicole looked around the crowded school hallway before responding to me. “At first I didn't really care who you were. I'll be honest, you wouldn't have been my first pick of a friend around here. I'm more pep, and you're like the broody alternative girl that gives herself bangs during a mental breakdown.”
My eyebrows shot up at her assessment of me. “I see. Well, I guess Joel was right then...”
I spun on my heel, prepared to run. I didn't know where I was going, but I had to leave before I was left. A flash of my mother's vacant face crossed my mind, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Will you let me fucking finish?” Nicole asked before grabbing my shoulder and forcing me to turn around.
“I don't really want to talk—”
“That was before I got to know you. And I’m not talking about the stupid surface level shit you tell me, either.”
I let out a huff of air and looked down at my cast, avoiding her gaze. “Everyone talks like you're this party-girl slut. You act like you'll spread your legs for everyone, but I doubt you've even slept with your boyfriend yet, right? I have to beg you to come to my parties or go out with me. And when you do manage to leave the house, you stick yourself in a corner and talk yourself out of having fun.”
I looked up at Nicole. “You know what I think?” she continued. “I think you kissed—or fucked—a couple of dumbass dudes. I think you didn't get attached, so they labeled you something you aren't so that they could put ice on their bruised ego. And worst of all. I think you let them. It’s easier to let people think you're wild and reckless. Because when you leave, at least it's expected. Hell, you were just going to leave me
and never look back, right?” She peered at me.
“I had no intention of being your friend after this, no,” I agreed.
“I don't know about your parents. I don't know why you're so fucking scared to stay. But I'm not going anywhere. Yeah, I fucked up with my reasons for getting to know you, but I'm staying because I got to know the real you, and she's fucking cool. I mean, who else would defend their ex-boyfriend and encourage their friend to date them?”
I cracked a small smile and rolled my eyes. “Okay, okay.”
“I've been chasing my parents since the day I was born. I'm not afraid to work for a relationship, Roe. You can be skittish all you want, but that doesn't mean I won't track you down, own up to my shit, and demand we work through it, okay? Don't make me start doing reckless stuff for your attention, too.”
Shame filled me from the bottom of my toes all the way up. She had a point. She was determined as fuck. “I'll do better,” I replied just as the bell rang.
“Good. See you at lunch,” Nicole replied before disappearing down the hallway. I stared at her back, wondering how the crazy girl I was passing the time with turned out to be a real friend.
“I sent your submissions into the prelims,” Mrs. Sellars announced proudly after the rest of the class had filtered out.
“What?” I asked while gripping my skirt.
“I didn't want to tell you when the deadline was because I was worried you'd cancel or freak out. I just submitted them myself and hoped for the best.”
I shook my head and glanced around her desk. “I didn't even know this thing had prelims.”
Mrs. Sellars rolled her eyes before clapping her hands. “Which is exactly why I've been collecting your poems and compiling them into a nice little portfolio without your knowing. You'll have to take over for the rest of it, but I'll help you.”
I sat down on the top of her desk as she started stacking papers. “So… When do we get the results?” I asked. What if they hated my work? What if it wasn’t good enough?
“Oh, I already have them,” Mrs. Sellars replied, a bit too nonchalantly for my tastes.
