CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Priscilla
Priscilla’s Rules to live by 101
“I like your last name, can I have it?”
The rest of the afternoon passes uneventfully, thank God. Our parents left ten minutes after Tilly and I emerged from the kitchen saying their goodbye’s handing me a card with where they’re staying, and their contact details. It felt a bit like a business transaction, what with my own father handing me his business card and all. Tilly opted not to stay at Hunter’s tonight, stating that she has an exam tomorrow that she needs to study for. I’d be worried if she was staying on her own, or having Saint continue to watch her, but because Glock would be on guard duty tonight I’m able to relax a little. Not much, but a little.
I’m not sure how much study she’ll get done with Glock there though. Those two are worse than seven-year-old Lexi, Cage and Kendall’s daughter, when you put them in the same room. I’ve never heard so much laughing, corny jokes, and arguments over petty shit than when they’re together. I like the fact that Tilly has a friend she can have that with, because I know how that feels, I’ve got that with Kendall, Lou, V, and now Adelyn. Everyone needs someone they can be themselves with, and Glock is that person for Tilly.
Hunter discussed with my dad before he left, that he will give him three days to approach Uncle Priest, Uncle Pipe, and Uncle Reaper without tipping them off he’s in town. If he doesn’t Hunter decreed he’ll be telling them himself. I can understand him not wanting to keep something this significant from his brothers and fellow agents, but I’m concerned about their reaction when they see him, or if Hunter drops the bomb. Because realistically it will probably go down like a lead balloon. Not that I would blame the guys for being pissed. Hell, I can even forgive them if they take a few pot shots at my dad for his deceit, he’d deserve it. That isn’t my primary concern however.
Dad is now officially on non-active duty for the FBI, non-active meaning he’s essentially still an agent with full privileges and access to resources, but he isn’t currently working any operations. I found this out from Hunter after mom and dad left, and to say it bothers me is an understatement. Technically dad could disappear if my uncles saw fit, with no one any the wiser. That’s not to say they’ll take it that far, I don’t believe they will, but it also doesn’t change the fact that it is a worry.
Hunter tried to tell me he wouldn’t let that happen, but I’m not stupid. At the end of the day it’s not up to him, between them the guys will decide my dads’ fate. It’s an unsettling thought, one that Hunter divested me of by kissing me senseless until I was nothing more than a puddle of goo on the floor, and then continued to distract me by cooking me the best omelette I’ve ever eaten for dinner. That includes Mo’s, and his are divine. I’m not sure what that says about me that I can be so easily swayed by eggs and Hunter’s kisses, but I’m not going to complain about it.
Somehow in the pandemonium of today I forgot to be mortified about what I had done with Hunter in the office at Mo’s. I’m not ashamed of what we did, far from it. It was fucking hot, but that doesn’t stop me from being horrified that anyone could have heard us, that my parents probably did. We’re both consenting adults, and while I’m all for steamy, raunchy sex as often as possible with Hunter, because lets be blunt it doesn’t get much better than Hunter Adams, I’m going to have to tell him that we need to refrain from public exhibitionism at all costs. I can only imagine the humiliation I would have to endure if instead of mom and dad outside the door it was Lou. She would have no hesitation in spreading our sexcapades far and wide. And as much as I love that crazy bitch I’d be forced to kill her, I’m sure of it.
That brings us to now… I’m standing in Hunter’s gorgeous bathroom with my hands braced on the bench in front of me asking myself what the hell I’m doing. I’m not naïve I know exactly what we’re going to be doing as soon as I can bring myself to leave my current self-professed sanctuary. In general I don’t have a problem with that either, it’s just that although both Hunter and I said I love you to each other I don’t know where we stand. In reality, just because a man says I love you while he’s fucking you doesn’t make it true. We all say things in the heat of the moment, and that might just have been one of those things. I don’t know how many other women he’s given the same line, and that thought has nausea rising up along with bile in the back of my throat. No woman wants to think of the man she’s sleeping with having sex with someone else, yeah we’re possessive like that. I mean we know the men we chose aren’t virgins when we meet them, well most aren’t. And if you choose a biker you can rest assured they have been well and truly deflowered, but that doesn’t make it any less disgusting when you think about where, and in whom they’ve put their junk.
Hunter’s knock on the door startles me causing to jump and bang my knee on the vanity.
“Ouch, fuck.” I yelp.
“You alright Beautiful?” I hear Hunter rasp from behind the safety of the door. He’d laugh at my insecurities about our relationship status, I know it. That’s why I needed a minute to get my shit together, so I can go out there without my face giving it all away.
“Umm… I’ll be out in a minute.” I offer with a slight wobble in my voice.
That’s when the knocking starts in earnest. He’s impatient, I get that. I have left him waiting for half an hour now at least, under the guise that I wanted to freshen up. I bet he’s asking himself how much freshening up one person can do. I’ll use the “I’m a woman, that’s what we do,” card if I have to. Anything to get a few more minutes to myself.
“Priss, let me in Baby, I just want to see you’re okay.”
I might trust Hunter, but I don’t believe that any more than he believes I’m fine. Getting angry now I reply,
“Seriously, Hunter I’ll be right out.”
Yeah, his patience is a thing of the past.
“Unlock the door Baby, or I’ll break it down. You’ve got five seconds, need me to count?” Pushy bastard. Knowing better than to test him I disengage the lock and pull the door open forcefully, almost smacking myself in the good leg in the process.
Holy mother of hotness… Hunter is lounging, and I mean lounging, half naked on the door frame like a great big jungle cat. Every bit the predator, and every bit as sleek and graceful. There’s no way to describe Hunter that will do him justice, so I’ll just say this; great singers compose songs about bodies like his, sculptors use his likeness to create masterpieces, and odes have been written in his honour.
We’ve established he’s is a giant among men, and half naked he’s no exception. While Hunter looks hot in anything, wearing only half buttoned jeans and barefoot is by far my favourite, catapulting him to God like status. A shirtless Hunter can also induce spontaneous orgasms by the dozen, in any woman. I don’t care if you’re married, single, eighty, or lesbian, one look at him and you’re gone.
His huge broad shoulders are covered in tattoos that creep down his chest ending at his ribs. His arms are almost completely decorated in ink too, and the picture his art paints is one of many facets. A tribal sun taking up the majority of the real estate on the right side of his chest in one of my favourites. Five of the rays have one of his blood brothers names inside, and those are interspersed throughout the others that are solid black in colour. In the centre is a date, I’ve never gotten him to tell me what it means, but it must be important if it takes such a prominent position on his body etched in using thick bold script.
My absolute favourite of his dozens of tattoos is the one between the V of his hips spanning the width, drawing your eyes lower. It’s simple. It has no class. And it totally has Hunter written all over it. Well not his name specifically, but the words “Saddle Up and Ride.” When I asked him why in the world he got something like that he said, “It was a dare.” That’s all. No further explanation, just it was a dare. I can tell you now I wouldn’t be getting tattooed on a dare, unlike Kendall and Hunter I’m not that brave.
; The only tattoo I do have is meaningful and hidden. Not because I’m one of those people that don’t like visible ink, clearly that’s not an issue for me. No mine’s hidden because I’m an idiot. The day V got her peacock feather tattooed by Kendall to cover the scar the bullet from Cage’s ex-wife’s gun caused, I decided it was as good a time as any to pop my ink cherry. Now note to the wise; do not get a tattoo when you’re angry at someone. It never ends well, and more often than not it’s the person getting the tattooed that pays for it. In my case that was no different. Now I have a daily reminder of my epic stupidity. And before you ask, no, I didn’t get a tramp stamp, butterfly, rose, or love heart. They are all clichéd and overdone, but nowhere near as bad as mine.
How Hunter didn’t see it earlier is beyond me, but I suppose that’s because his attention was utterly focused elsewhere. In truth the tattoo is part of why I’m being a coward hiding in the bathroom. As soon as he sees it one of two things is going to happen, he’s either going to be horrified, kick me out of his house and never speak to me again, or he’s going to be angry. As in, really angry. I can’t see him being happy about it that’s for sure, especially when the day I had it done he threatened not to speak to me for a year if I went ahead with it. Obviously that wasn’t a great deterrent because I did it anyway. Well that, and he made that threat every second day, so it lost its impact over time.
On my left side, taking up half the space is an eagle with its wings outstretched clutching an anchor, a trident, and a rifle. The eagles head is looking over to its right as if its supposed to be watching over someone. I have to say, Reaper did an awesome job with the detail of the feathers seeing as I wouldn’t let him do the tattoo in colour. I wanted it in grey scale, and I couldn’t be happier with how the finished product turned out.
For those of you who don’t know the meaning of my very specific tattoo, it’s the Navy SEAL emblem. Yep, I’m an idiot alright. There’s no denying who it signifies, and I can’t explain my way out this one if I wanted to. I didn’t want something cliché like his name, I wanted something that is uniquely Tank, because that’s who it represents. Not the sweet, kind, protective, Hunter that’s just below the tough exterior he puts on, it’s a depiction of a part of his life that will never leave him. Part of his life that shaped him into the man he is today. It was also a way I could show how humbled, and proud of him I am. Hunter fought for our country, but he fought for our freedom as well. He fought to right injustice. And for that I will be forever grateful.
“You want to tell me what you’re doing in here? If I didn’t know better I’d say you’re hiding out.” He says with a raised eyebrow challenging me to deny it.
“I’m not hiding, I was gathering my thoughts they’re totally different things Mr know it all.”
“Yeah, well forty-five minutes is an awful long time to gather your thoughts. You want to tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Reaching for me I go willingly into his arms. Being wrapped up by his big body calms me almost instantaneously. It shouldn’t because he’s the one that’s making me all kinds of nervous, but it does nonetheless.
Guiding me back into his bedroom my heartrate picks up, and I can feel my palms start to sweat. Like I said, it isn’t because I don’t want Hunter to fuck me senseless again, there’s nothing I’d like more, but the last thing I need after the day from hell is for him to freak the hell out on me.
As we reach the edge of the bed I brace myself, steeling my legs to stop him from pulling me down with him. To my surprise he sits on the side of the bed with his legs spread standing me between them. Looking up at me he smiles, and I swear I fall a little bit more in love with him. The tender look on his face is reminiscent of the one he gave me this morning while I was still sitting on the corner of Mo’s desk. I won’t lie, this is the smile that has my core dripping for him.
“Tell me what’s going on with you Beautiful. You look freaked.”
You could say that. You could also say that I’m going to pass out I’m so anxious about telling him this.
“I-I need to tell you something before we, you know, do it.” Why I can’t say fuck, have sex, even make love is beyond me, but by his chuckle he gets my meaning.
“Beautiful you can tell me anything you know that. Talk to me. We don’t have to do anything you’re not…”
I cut him off before he can get any further. I can’t have him thinking that I don’t want him because that’s far from true. I’m worried he won’t want me.
“It’s easier if I just show you.” I say biting the bullet. Stripping my shirt off I stand in front of him with only my aqua lace demi-cup bra on, and turn slightly so he can get a full view of what might break us. I watch his face closely to gauge his reaction, and whether or not I’ll need to make a hasty exit. Then he does something that floors me…
Hunter’s whole face goes soft, and he uses his index finger to trace the outline of my tattoo reverently. What feels like hours later, he looks up his eyes wet, with red slowly creeping into the white.
“Beautiful,” he whispers. Is he talking to me, or about the tattoo I got for him? I don’t know, and the insecurity of not knowing is making my nausea return ten-fold.
Begging I say,
“Please say something. I’m so sorry if you’re upset I just…”
I don’t finish because Hunter’s mouth crushes mine in the most passionate kiss I’ve ever had. Demanding entrance his tongue seeks mine exploring every corner and crevice. Without warning a hand reaches behind me unhooking my bra, throwing it over his shoulder. Where it lands I have no clue, but I could care less. Bracing myself with my hands on his waist I knead and caress the hot skin covering his mid-section, my thumbs tracing the defined grooves of his abs.
I’m getting impatient waiting to see him completely naked. I have a good idea what he looks like, I’ve accidentally on purpose walked in on him in the shower twice, but this is different. This time I can touch, lick, kiss every inch of his skin. I don’t have to go home and get myself off with a piece of silicon fantasising about the sexiest man on the planet wet, soapy, and hard. Yes, Hunter was hard as a pike when I walked in on him the last time. Through the fogged up glass of the shower door I could see he was working with some impressive equipment. It took every scrap of restraint I had to not strip off my clothes, and climb in with him. To make matters worse, at the time he was stroking his cock in long hard jerks, groaning while his head rested on his forearm that was braced on the tile wall. That mental snap shot has gotten me through some of the most sexually frustrated times of my adult life mind you, so I’m thankful for having had it.
All of a sudden my jeans and panties are ripped down my legs, and I’m flat on my back in Hunter’s massive king size bed with a very aroused man looking down at me.
“I’ve got to taste you Baby, I’m fucking dying here. You okay with that?”
Why is he asking me? I don’t like having a man eat my pussy, said no woman ever.
“Mmhmm.” Is all I get out before his head is between my legs, and my knees are thrown over his shoulders. “Hunter.” I moan.
I can feel the rasp of his tongue all the way to the nerve endings in my toes as I fist my hands in the down comforter. He’s teasing me with long licks up my slit bypassing where I need him most.
“You taste so fucking sweet Beautiful.” This time as he delves in he sucks my clit directly into his mouth, applying exactly the right amount of suction. Over and over he licks me, alternating between working my clit, plunging his tongue inside me, and nipping at my folds.
My back bows off the bed as I arch my hips pushing myself further into his mouth. Hunter must feel the tremors of my impending orgasm because he thrusts two thick fingers into my desperate pussy, and I detonate on the spot. Practically sobbing out his name I cum all over his hand.
Letting me ride out the last of my orgasm, Hunter continues to use his fingers to draw little aftershocks from me. That had to be the fastest orgasm on the planet I muse. He does
n’t give me more than a few seconds to rouse from my sated state before he’s hoovering over me again with a condom in his hand. A thought occurs to me, and to be honest it’s a bit too fucking late to think about it now, but I can distinctly remember us not using protection earlier. How can I be sure? Easy. When I was forced to spend the afternoon walking around without panties on it’s pretty obvious with the amount of fluid leaking down my thighs that Hunter had forgone a condom, or two. Now usually this wouldn’t be an issue, I haven’t had sex with a man without taking precautions before, so I know I’m clean. Whether the same is true for Hunter I don’t know, but that’s not what’s foremost on my mind.
Because I haven’t had sex in over two years, until today that is, I went off the pill six months ago. I had no intention of hooking up with one night stands, or random guys I met out and about, so I didn’t see the use in taking a pill to prevent something that had absolutely no chance of happening. Famous last words I’d say, because now I may be literally fucked, and not in a good way. Well that way too, but I’m referring to fucked in the way of possibly with child. Hunter’s child.
Hunter grinds against me to get my attention, and I snap my head up to his. He looks concerned, worried even.
“Where’d you go? You spaced out on me there for a minute. You alright, I didn’t do anything to hurt you did I?”
Saviour: A Devil's Spawn MC Novel (Savior Book 3) Page 22
