Wrecked

by Priscilla West

  Hunter narrowed his eyes then eagerly jumped off the bed, his cock bouncing as he walked over to my side, a seductive smile on his lips. My pulse leaped. As often as I’d seen Hunter without clothes over the past twenty-four hours, I was certain I’d never get tired of seeing him naked. He was too beautiful.

  “I was just joking,” I said with a smirk. I playfully slapped his semi-erect cock by my shoulder making it wobble back and forth. “I mean, I do want you all over me . . . but after I finish this drawing.”

  “Of course,” he said, grinning. He left my side and settled back on the bed. “So what kind of pose do you want?”

  I thought about all the pictures hanging on the wall in Bigg’s Gym where the fighters had the same aggressive pose. I had enough drawings of Hunter looking intimidating. I wanted to sketch the vulnerable side of him, the side I’d only seen recently. “Why don’t you choose a comfortable position. Sitting or laying. It’s up to you, whatever’s relaxing enough that you can hold it for like twenty minutes.”

  He smiled. “Okay.” He shifted around on the bed, trying out different positions. Eventually, he settled into a dramatic laying pose with his finger outstretched toward me. One knee was raised while the other leg lay on its side, and his outstretched left arm supported him from the bed.

  Even under the bedroom’s soft lighting, the sharp lines of his naked body contrasted boldly with the smooth sheets beneath him. I’d always drawn parts of Hunter from memory—his hammer tattoo, his face—but now I had him as a live subject. All of him. An excitement swelled inside of me as I began to scan the length of his exposed figure.

  My gaze started from his large feet and my pulse began beating faster as I moved toward those powerful legs that were used to drive vicious punches against his opponents. My breath hitched at the sight of his savage cock draped lazily over the side of one thigh. I felt my thighs become heated as I thought about how the expert use of that one part of him could pull mind-shattering orgasms from my body. My gaze snagged on his pelvis and I bit my lip, following the hard lines up to his trim hips and then to his pack of ab muscles that were so cut they appeared flexed even when I knew he was relaxed. They looked so yummy that I wanted to lick them slowly all the way from the bottom to base of his pecs. His chest was composed of two chiseled slabs of flesh, expanding and contracting with each of his calm breaths. I reached his face and was mesmerized by those dark gray eyes filled with depth and mystery. Behind those irises hid a past that I didn’t know about. What was it like to have drug-addict parents? A thread of doubt twisted through me. Could I really capture the essence of Hunter in a drawing?

  He smiled at me. “How’s this?”

  “Umm . . . that’s a classic pose from the Sistine Chapel.” I giggled, recalling the fresco painting titled The Creation of Adam. “Unfortunately, my name’s not Michelangelo and this isn’t the 1500s.”

  He narrowed his eyebrows. “Michelangelo? I was going for the scene from E.T. with the glowy-healing finger.”

  I giggled again. “Ah, I see. How about we try something less dramatic? Something more natural. I want to see the Hunter in his natural element.”

  “Hmm . . .” His body remained in the same pose but he rested his right elbow on his one raised knee and put his forefinger to his lip in thought. “Lemme think about it.”

  “There that’s it! Hold that if you can.”

  He turned toward me. “Huh? You like this?” He tilted his head to examine himself.

  “Yeah! Don’t move!”

  He knitted his brows. “What’s so special about this position?”

  “I think it suits you well. It’s kind of like you’re exposed and vulnerable . . . but not fully since you still have that one knee up. You also look relaxed but also concerned—like the weight of the world is on your mind. It seems like a natural pose. Hmm it’s still missing something though . . .” I picked up one of his gray hoodies from the floor and threw it to him. “Here put this on. Leave it unzipped so I can see your six pack but put the hood up.”

  With his brow raised skeptically, he caught the hoodie with one hand and carefully put it on while maintaining his position; the hoodie was the only thing he was wearing. He left the sweater unzipped like I’d asked, leaving his chest and abs deliciously exposed. His cock was still draped over his thigh carelessly.

  “How does this look?” he asked.

  “That’s perfect,” I hummed, feeling a thrill from the added sexiness the sweater brought to the pose. “Now just hold that while I work.”

  I began drawing him starting with the basic contours of his body then refined the lines with small details here and there—the round curve of his shoulders, the slight jutting of his developed obliques.

  “You keep doing that and we’re not gonna finish this drawing,” he said.

  Breaking out of my intense concentration, I lifted my head from the paper. “Doing what?”

  “Biting your bottom lip like that. If you keep doing that, we’re gonna have to work off some tension.”

  I glanced at his leg and saw his cock becoming unabashedly erect.

  I smiled pleasantly, returning my focus to the drawing to avoid seeing the lust in his eyes that I knew was there. The throbbing between my legs made me unsure whether I’d be able to resist him if I saw his hunger for me. “I’m trying, Hunter.” I grumbled. “It’s difficult though. I’m just getting really into this drawing.”

  “I can see that. Your tits are so hard right now. It’s all I can think about. How can I lay still when I know they’re so suckable.”

  My smile widened. “Patience, my dear Hunter. I’ll be finished soon.”

  Once I completed the shading on his body, I began working on the details of his face. It was difficult to capture his eyes just right. I kept looking at his eyes, comparing him to what I had drawn, but something was always off. It took every ounce of concentration, but I finally finished the drawing. Releasing a satisfied exhalation, I put down my pencil and fingered him over. He eagerly hopped off the bed and returned to my side.

  I handed him the completed drawing and waited for his reaction. “This is amazing.” he said, his voice intimately low and filled with admiration.

  “Well, the figure is you after all, Mr. Humble,” I teased.

  “No, aside from that . . . I’ve never seen anything like this before. Somehow you’ve captured every little detail about me. How did you do it?”

  I pointed at the picture in between his hands. “Well, first your body was a challenge. There were a lot of subtle contours and a wide range of hard and soft shadows. Most people aren’t even close to being as muscular as you so they generally have a lot of light shadows and simple lines. Your lines and shadows were much more complex.”

  He nodded, listening to my words and scanning the picture carefully.

  I directed his attention to particular spots on his torso. “You’ve also got all these scars, bumps, and bruises on your skin that I take you got from fighting. Some of them are more faded and some are fresher. I spent a lot of effort trying to capture each of them.” I recalled Aunt Caroline telling me before that the scars we have—both on the inside as well as on the outside—are part of what makes us who we are. I wondered at how Hunter had changed after receiving each of his scars.

  “ . . . The detail is incredible. It’s even better than a mirror.”

  “Sometimes it takes another person to see us for who we really are.”

  “You’re right, I’d even forgotten I had some these scars, I’d seen ‘em so often in the mirror. They’re supposed to be reminders of the mistakes I made in my fights. But it’s easy to overlook things you see often until you see them from a different perspective.”

  “Mmhmm.” I nodded. “. . . So after I finished your body, I had to fill in the details of your face. This was the hardest part. I was able to get the shape of your nose and the curve of your lips pretty easily but when it came to your eyes, I had to redraw them at least a dozen times.”

 
“What was wrong with the eyes?”

  “I don’t know. You’ve got these stunning gray eyes . . . every time I drew them they came out too flat or one-dimensional. So I had to keep redoing them—you can still see some of the eraser marks here.” I pointed to the rough texture of the paper where I’d erased multiple times. “Even now, I don’t think I’ve quite captured them.”

  “No, this looks amazing,” he said, mesmerized.

  I grinned. “Thank you, it’s my best work to-date. Couldn’t have done it without such a capable model.”

  “It’s even better now that you’ve explained it to me. I didn’t realize you put so much thought and effort into every line. I thought art just came naturally for you."

  “Well, it’s probably similar to fighting for you. Some of it comes naturally but a lot of it is practice and thinking.”

  “You’re so smart and talented.” He kissed me on the top of my head. “We make a good team, don’t we?”

  “The best team. Now that we’re finished, let’s get back to business.” I took the drawing from his hands and placed it on the desk then I ripped off his hoodie and we tumbled onto the bed, lips locked in passionate embrace. We curled up beneath the sheets and remained there the rest of the night.

  I woke up Monday morning to light kisses against my neck. I squirmed and softly squealed.

  “Did I wake you?” Hunter crooned.

  “A little bit.”

  “Sorry, I couldn’t help kissing you, you’re so beautiful in the morning. You look so peaceful when you’re sleeping.”

  “I like you kissing me,” I said sleepily. “There are certainly much worse ways of waking up.” I cupped a hand over my mouth and yawned. “Was I snoring?”

  He smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “Yeah, you were, Snorrie. But I think it’s cute. I could make an mp3 of it and listen to it while I’m jogging.”

  I squealed from his embarrassing comment and curled into him. Hunter could say some embarrassing things that made him even more endearing than he already was.

  “It’s still early, ya know,” he said. “We have time to go to our classes . . . if we want.”

  I ran a finger gently along the tattoos on his shoulder and chest, admiring the art there. “I really don’t want to go.”

  Hunter grinned. “Me neither.”

  We lay together in silence for a moment while I continued tracing the inked lines on his skin and he traced the curve of my hips with his fingertips.

  “You wanna stay in again?” he asked, looking at me carefully.

  After an amazing weekend, I dreaded the thought of it ending and having to return to the world outside. I knew Hunter was thinking the same thing. I bit my bottom lip and nodded slightly. He smiled and I did as well.

  “Let’s do it then,” he said. “I don’t have anything too important going on. We can even study in the living room if we need to. I still have my psych book from freshman year. You can use that.”

  “That sounds like a good idea.”

  After lounging in bed for an extra hour, we got up, put on some clothes, fed the kitties, and ate breakfast. We did the dishes together with me washing and Hunter rinsing. It was an oddly domestic experience and I found it to be fun and relaxing. At about eleven we both finished showering.

  “Ready to hit the books, babe?” Hunter said as I came out from the bathroom with a towel around my waist and another around my hair. He was seated at the living room table with a physics textbook and psychology textbook on the surface.

  Feeling a thrill from him calling me babe, I approached him and gave him a peck on his cheek. As endearing as Snorrie was, I considered this new nickname an upgrade. “Mmhmm but first . . . I think we have a morning class we need to attend together.”

  He cocked one brow. “And what is that?”

  “Sex Ed 101. And you’re the professor.”

  He looked surprised but then a flash crossed his eyes and he grinned mischievously. “Well then.” He cleared his throat. “Welcome to class, Ms . . .”

  “—Burnham. Lorrie Burnham.” I smiled at him, feeling at ease with telling him my last name for the first time.

  His eyes widened for a moment then he smiled warmly. “Of course Ms. Burnham,” he said, pronouncing my name with a silky voice. “. . . It’s always a pleasure to see you. You’re my favorite student you know.”

  “Well Professor Jensen, you’re my favorite professor. I always love the assignments you give. I can’t wait to do them.”

  “The lesson today is going to be very hands-on. We’ll be learning about the human body and sexual pleasure. I hope you’ve come prepared to learn.”

  “Ooh, I like the sound of that.”

  We went through a rigorous hour and a half lesson. It was the most demanding class I’d ever attended. The professor and I masturbated in front of one another then we pleasured each other to demonstrate our learning. At several points, I failed to follow instructions so Professor Jensen ended up spanking my naked rear while I was sprawled across his bare lap. It was a new experience for the both of us and we both found it thrilling.

  “So what’s my grade?” I panted after we had both orgasmed.

  “Definitely an A,” he groaned, still recovering from his climax.

  Despite the failure to follow instructions a few times—some purposely—I thought I had performed quite admirably. “Just an A? Why not an A+, Professor Jensen?”

  “If you want an A+, Ms. Burnham, you’re going to have to do some extra credit,” he purred.

  “What do I have to do?”

  “We’ll save that for another lesson,” he said with a wicked grin.

  We decided to take a break. Hunter went to the kitchen to snack on a protein bar and I went to the bedroom to put on some clothes. Just as I finished dressing, my phone rang inside my pocket and I saw it was Daniela.

  “Hey Lorrie, what’s up girl? Just wanted to call to see where you were. I missed you in psych today.”

  With the excitement of this morning’s activities still buzzing through my body, I’d almost forgotten I had a real class to go to today. “Oh I’ve just been hanging out at Hunter’s place. What did I miss?”

  “Muller was talking about sex!”

  “What? No way.” I couldn’t imagine Professor Muller—an old guy with a German accent—talking to a bunch of nineteen-year-olds about sex. That sounded like an awkward lecture.

  “Yes way! He was talking about the pleasure-reward system in our brains and how the chemical dopamine makes us feel good. A lot of it gets released whenever we do something enjoyable like gambling or having sex, which is often the basis for addiction.”

  It occurred to me that I could tell Daniela I’d attended my own lecture on sex and how my brain was probably drowning in dopamine at the moment, but I quickly dismissed the idea, preferring to play it cool instead. “Oh that sounds interesting.”

  “Yeah, definitely. You gonna be home tonight? Wanna get dinner at the Barnyard?”

  I thought about how Hunter and I had a lot of studying to accomplish tonight. If the last hour and a half was any indication of the type of ‘studying’ we were going to do, our textbooks might never get cracked open. But I was more than okay with that. “Umm . . . I’ll give you a call if I get back?”

  “Okay.” She sounded a little disappointed since we ate dinner together nearly every night. I felt slightly bad for brushing her off but not bad enough to change my mind. Having more fun with Hunter dominated my mind at the moment. “I guess I’ll see you whenever you get back.”

  “Yep, bye Daniela.”

  She said bye and we both hung up.

  “Hey, Lorrie,” Hunter said wrapping his arms around me from behind. “Someone call?”

  “Yeah, it was just Daniela, checking in on me,” I said sweetly.

  “There’s certainly a lot to check out,” he said running his hands up and down my legs and in between them, making me bite my lip in excitement. “That’s for sure. Ready to ta
lk about that extra credit?”

  I nodded and voiced my excitement.

  It was approaching evening by the time we finished Sex Ed 101. The class took a lot longer than both of us had anticipated. There was just so much for him to teach, and for me to learn. We sat down at the living room table, sore and fatigued, but strangely energetic.

  “Alright, let’s study for real this time,” I said.

  “For real, babe,” he agreed.

  “Are you going to help me with psych?” I offered. “I recall you promised you’d help me last time.”

  He seemed perplexed. “When was that?”

  “When we went to the theater and ended up watching horror movies instead, Hun.” I decided to call him ‘hun’ since he was calling me ‘babe’. I found it to work as both a shortening of his name and an affectionate term for ‘honey’.

  “Oh right.” He laughed. “Sorry, I totally forgot about that. That was when you ended up sleeping on me.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Okay, let’s do it.”

  I was a little surprised to find Hunter as knowledgeable about the material as he had claimed. I knew he was smart but it was still unusual to see a muscled brawler be brainy. We hit the books with determination, and I intended to soak in as much material as I could. Studying was helpful for about an hour before we got distracted again. Jokes about classical conditioning turned into teasing, which turned into kissing. And from there things escalated. We were in the middle of having sex in the bedroom with me on top when Hunter’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. He ignored it at first, preferring to focus his attention on the way I was bouncing my hips against him but the noise became a growing distraction. He groaned, reached for his phone, and checked it.

  “Who is it?” I asked, my breaths heavy.

  “Oh, it’s just Gary again.” He showed me his phone with a text message that said: Yo, you still hanging out with Lorrie? C’mon man, these punching bags ain’t gonna punch themselves.

  “So you going to train at Bigg’s today?” I asked Hunter breathlessly, as I continued rocking my pelvis.