Hunter’s Baby

by Alexis Abbott

  The next second, a figure swings around the corner.

  My whole body reacts, moving back to bear the extra weight as I turn and let him come down onto me with full force before stepping aside and letting his weight carry him past me. I hear the sound of a knife slicing through the air where my face had been half a second ago.

  As I turn to follow him with my eyes, I drink in the scene all in the blink of an eye.

  The moonlight filtering in through the front door gives me a proper look at the burglar. He’s a big man, almost enough to rival me, and he’s dressed in all black-- a black ski mask, black sweater, black pants, and black boots. More alarmingly, there’s also a black combat knife in his hand. His eyes are so wide that I can see the whites of them.

  And in the split second before he lunges at me again, I see Blossom standing in the doorway, hands on her mouth as she holds back a scream.

  The attacker lunges at me, but this time, he takes advantage of my surprise. I get a hand around his wrist and hold the knife back by sheer strength, but the force of his tackle knocks me to the ground. I take him with me, getting a knee up and into his stomach. We grapple rolling over the floor, but he doesn’t say anything. We don’t even grunt.

  I want to keep quiet so as not to wake the girls. They don’t need this kind of trauma. But the stranger is getting more confusing by the moment. He tries to get an arm down to my neck, but I twist out of the way and manage to get a punch to his gut. On the best of days, wrestling with someone on the ground like this is a chaotic mess, even more so when you both have knives out and ready to slice into anything they touch. In the dark, it doesn’t matter how much training either of us has-- it’s any man’s game.

  I push forward and get on top of my attacker, and I swing a hard left hook down on him that he barely manages to turn his head in time with. It connects, but not half as hard as the blow I threw. A moment later, I realize I don’t have his knife-hand in sight, and I get up off him just half a second before the blade flashes where my kidney would have been.

  Without a second thought, I swing my leg out and kick the knife-hand as hard as I can. He grunts in pain, and the knife goes sliding out the door, past Blossom. My heart jumps to my throat, but she jumps back as fast as if a rattlesnake had slithered out in front of her. In the blink of an eye, the attacker wrenches free and barrels out the door. I’m not about to let him get away this easily, though.

  I take off after him, and when I see him reaching for the knife, I jump up and let my body weight carry me into him at full force, feet first. He turns just in time to brace himself, saving him some broken bones, but our bodies crash together and go rolling off the porch onto the banks of the lake.

  Wet sand and pebbles crunch under us as we hit the ground. The second we’re down, I bring my knife down on him, but he rolls out of the way, and I sink the blade into cold earth. He swings a punch at me, but I bring the knife up in an arc as I twist away.

  This time, I feel it connect.

  It drags across his bicep, and some of the sweater tears away like paper. I see red blood flow from the wound, but he doesn’t so much as wince. Adrenaline is pumping through his veins just like it’s coursing through mine. But I don’t just see bare skin around the wound. There’s something else-- tattoo ink?

  I only see it for a moment before he lunges at me again. But now that I’ve had a moment to get my bearings, I’m more than ready for him. He evades my knife, but I roll into his tackle and swing him under me, using his own body weight to drive him into the ground, landing my knee squarely below his ribcage and knocking the wind out of him. His arms hit the ground on either side of him.

  I bring my knife to his throat in less than a second, pressing it against the fabric where his ski mask meets his sweater. If this were any other night, the blade would already be across his throat and letting blood spill out over the pebbly soil…

  But I hear Blossom’s panicked gasp behind me, and I freeze, looking into the bastard’s eyes.

  If I kill him now, in front of Blossom, it will scar her forever. Not only that, but she’ll know full well what I’m capable of. She has a damn quick mind, too-- there’s a good chance she could figure out what I really am.

  I worry that she already suspects me of being the lilac killer.

  All this flashes through my mind in half a second, but half a second is all the hesitation my enemy needs. Those eyes see mine, and they know exactly why I haven’t killed him yet. That’s all he needs to see in order to know I won’t kill him tonight.

  He wrenches my knife away with one hand, and in that split second, I see the tattoo on his arm-- it’s a bird, an eagle with its wings spread out wide and its beak sticking up, open, screaming.

  Why does it look familiar?

  I don’t have any time to contemplate it. The attacker is up on his feet the next moment, but rather than engaging with me, he turns and bolts. The only other man I’ve seen run as fast as him is myself, and I know that if I ran after him, I might just be able to chase him.

  But if I did that, I’d be leaving behind Blossom and the girls. If there are more men like him here tonight, or if he evaded me and doubled back around, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.

  I stay put, watching him go as I hear the ringing in my ears.

  “Are you okay?”

  Blossom’s terrified voice snaps me out of my trance, and I turn around to see her staring at me with a sheet-white face and wide eyes. She looks like she’s about to faint, so I step forward and hug her with one arm, holding the knife far away from her as I press her against my form. She can’t help but let out a single sob before sniffing and forcing herself together, looking up at me. “What the hell was that?”

  “Burglar,” I say, but I don’t think either of us believe that. “Bastard must have thought we’re just tourists who would all be asleep tonight.”

  She nods, but realization hits us both at the same time.

  “Flora!” we say as one.

  We hurry back into the house and down the hall. Blossom left the door ajar, and I slow to a halt at it, silently pushing the door open. Both our jaws drop.

  Flora and Sage are both sleeping peacefully, looking hardly worse for wear. A sliver of moonlight shows me Flora’s serene face as her back rises and falls with each breath. As the two of us watch, I feel my heart melting at the sight, and I raise an eyebrow at Blossom.

  “Heavy sleepers,” she says with an unbelieving smile. “I swear they could sleep through a train wreck.”

  I roll my eyes and feel laughter in my chest. I can’t believe it, either. I just fought off a potentially lethal situation, adrenaline still running hot through my blood, and yet here I am, laughing at a joke Blossom made as if we’ve been making small talk and flirting all night. It feels good. Damn good.

  It makes me feel like we’re a family.

  My heart beats in my throat, and I look down at the smiling Blossom for a thoughtful moment. I take her hand and lead her back into my room, where I set the knife down on the dresser and pull her in slowly, looking into her wary eyes.

  “Hunter, what…?” she trails off, but she can read my intentions in my eyes. I lean forward, bringing my lips to her neck, and I feel the warm skin I’ve wanted to feel against me for five long, long years. She shivers, but she doesn’t pull back. In fact, after a moment, she turns her head, exposing more of her to me as I grip her hips and ravish the side of her neck with kisses, feeling my cock start to harden between my legs.

  “Blossom,” I growl in a thick, husky voice in her ear. “We need to finish what we started. Now.”

  Blossom

  In the dim bedroom, it takes a little while for my eyes to adjust. The thin strains of moonlight filter in through the blinds, casting black and white shafts across the bed, almost like the keys of a piano. Hunter takes my hand and presses it to his heart as he tugs me close, and I know with a wry smile that we are going to make all kinds of beautiful, desperate, passionate music all over those ke
ys. The bed is tousled, sheets pulled all over the place, indicating that even before we talked outside and before that horrible intruder broke into the house, Hunter must have been having one fitful, restless night. I wonder what he was thinking about when he was in bed without me. I wonder what he’s thought about every night the past five years, what he’s dreamed about. Where has he been? What has he seen?

  Who has he been?

  I know how silly I am to have ever considered for a split second that the man of my heart and the father of my child could be a killer. Specifically, the same brutal killer who murdered that man in Ithaca. The white lilac was a red herring. It was nothing. Perhaps it wasn’t even intentional. Stranger things have happened, that’s for sure. Like this, for example: accidentally bumping into the long-lost love of my life in the last place I’d expect to find him. If we had arrived in Ithaca even five minutes later, if we hadn’t gotten stuck in traffic on Main Street, if I hadn’t just happened to look up and see Hunter crossing the road in front of my car, none of this would have happened. I would have gone on with the rest of my quiet life still totally in the dark, still lonely and lost and longing for the man I could never touch again.

  But now he’s here, and his hands are on my body. Moving me. Caressing me back to life. And that’s the way it truly feels to me. Like I have been wobbling through life on autopilot for the past five years. Of course I have had love all along. I have my sister, Sage, who is whip-smart, dependable, and funny. She’s kept me laughing, kept me upbeat through the dark times. And I have Flora, my perfect, innocent little daughter. There’s not a single cell of meanness in her body. She’s as soft and full of light on the inside as she is on the outside. I’ve always wondered what it would feel like for Hunter to see her. Would he be proud? Would he be freaked out? I mean, I couldn’t blame him if so. It’s got to be one hell of a big shock to find out that you’ve had a secret child all these years. But I saw the look on his face when we peered into their bedroom to see Flora resting her little head on the pillow. I caught the flash of intense wonder and adoration in Hunter’s eyes-- the brown eyes so similar to hers.

  Surely it is impossible for any man who looks at his daughter that way to be a dangerous man. You can’t be both, right? Hunter is just what he says he is. That’s what I have to believe. It’s ridiculous to think otherwise. Isn’t it?

  And yet, as his hands slide down my arms to grab my hands and interlock his fingers with mine, I have to wonder: what evil acts have these same hands committed? His touch, so sensuous and loving, so warm and tender, could not possibly be perverted to create pain and torture. I just can’t seem to reconcile the two images in my mind, and yet I also cannot extricate myself from the equation. Because I know the truth-- my truth. That no matter what he has or has not done, no matter who he truly is and how vastly it differs from the Hunter I loved under the white lilacs, I can never turn away from him. Not now, not ever. I’m in this for however long he’ll have me. Even if it’s just for the night.

  Hunter turns me to face him, those brown eyes glinting in the low light. He’s framed by the window, that rectangle of soft light every now and then brightened by a flash of distant lightning. I can hear the first pitter-patter drops of rain against the wooden deck as he pulls me close. We lean in slowly at first, his hands stroking my arms, calming me the same way he used to years ago, when I came to him upset over something my parents did or said. He was my shelter then, and he is my sanctuary now. I roll up onto my tiptoes to kiss him, and the second his lips brush against mine, I part my mouth to let out a low moan. His hands slide up to cup my breasts gently, flicking and pinching my erect nipples through my t-shirt. I melt into him, letting his tongue explore my mouth while he gropes my breasts, my ass, cups the warm, slick mound between my legs. We were interrupted earlier before I was able to finish, and despite the terror of having an intruder in the house, my arousal never faded for a second. It was simply postponed.

  Much like my love and lust for Hunter. Even over the five years we spent apart, my desire for him never wavered. I’ve been craving him all this time, and I can hardly wait to finally sate my needs. Hunter lifts my shirt up over my head and drops it to the floor, exposing my perky breasts, taut stomach, and arching back. He kneels down to help me peel off my black shorts, then tosses those aside, too. I’m stark naked now, goosebumps rising up on my bare skin in the cool air. I lick my lips, anticipating getting to see more of Hunter, too.

  He knows what I want. He stands back and tugs his shirt off over his head, throwing it onto a chair along with his boxer shorts. His massive cock springs free, bouncing slightly and totally erect. I need to taste it, suddenly. More than anything. I give him a questioning look and Hunter nods slightly.

  Immediately, I drop to my knees and crawl the few steps closer to him, looking up at his face with wide, innocent eyes. My heart pounding like crazy, I reach up and take his thick, glorious shaft in my hands, reveling in the girth and length. I pump up and down a few times, feeling the silky skin glide under my fingertips. Then I lean in and gently tug the head of his cock into my mouth, moaning at how good it feels to be stretched out this way. My cheeks bulge as I slowly, carefully swallow him down to the root, letting my tongue swath along the sensitive underside and around the tender, engorged head.

  “Just like that, Blossom,” he groans, pushing softly at the back of my head. I bob up and down on his hard cock, lapping up precome and swirling my hands around his shaft in tandem with my mouth. He tastes salty-sweet and warmly familiar. I suck him down eagerly, kneeling in front of him and looking up at his face to see the expression of twisted pleasure and restraint on his handsome, sharp features. I can feel the hardwood flooring creak and grind against my knees, and I know I’m going to have bruises from this, but I don’t care. In fact, I kind of relish the idea of having marks left on my body. Because I don’t know how much time Hunter and I have together this go around. Maybe it’ll just be tonight. And if so, I’m going to need some small souvenirs for the road. Signs that this really did happen. Bruises, bite marks, anything to remind me for the next few days that I truly did spend a glorious, sexy night with the man I loved and lost. This could be the only chance I get.

  So I better damn well make the most of it.

  I’m fondling his heavy balls while my lips slide up and down either side of his cock, then tug his head between my lips and flick my tongue around, teasing him just a little before pushing down further. By now, Hunter is starting to lose control, inch by inch. He’s groaning and murmuring my name, which makes me feel so powerful it spurs me on even more. I love the feeling of his silky skin, his hard length, twitching and straining in my mouth. My cheeks ache, my mouth is salivating, and all I want is to make him feel amazing. I want to blow his fucking mind, prove to him that even though I’ve been celibate these five years without him, I’ve still grown up quite a bit. I’m not the virginal, innocent, shrinking violet I was back then when we rolled around and tangled in each other’s arms under the lilac blooms. We are two grown-ass adults now, and I want him to fuck me like one.

  Before I can bring him over the edge, Hunter reaches down to gently nudge me back. His cock springs out of my mouth with a wet pop, which makes me grin mischievously and lick my lips as I look up at him. Hunter takes my chin in his hand and traces his thumb over my swollen bottom lip. I suck his thumb into my mouth and his lips fall open in a soft gasp of appreciation.

  “You’re dirtier than I remember,” he growls, helping me to my feet.

  I daintily wipe my mouth and smile, feeling my cheeks flush pink. “A lot can change in five years,” I tell him, and when his smirk falters for a moment I rush to assure him, “there’s been no one else, Hunter. Nobody but you.”

  He scoops me up into his arms like I’m some damsel in distress, and leans in to kiss me. I can feel my wetness dripping down my thigh as he carries me to the bed. “Surely you must have gotten lonely from time to time,” he says softly. He lays me back on the bed, my head on th
e pillow. As he bends to kiss me, I respond.

  “Of course,” I murmur, letting his lips gently brush over mine. “But I knew no one else would compare.”

  He smirks. “It’s been the same for me, Blossom. Ever since I first tasted you years ago, I knew there was no point in searching for a substitute. There is nothing sweeter than you.”

  Hunter moves between my legs, lowering himself down to kiss the insides of my thighs, making me shiver. I bite my lip as he nuzzles closer to my slick folds, his tongue lightly tasting me, circling my clit in teasing motions. My hands grab fistfuls of the bed sheets as I prepare for the ride of my life. He takes two fingers and slowly, tantalizingly slides them inside me while he eats my pussy. I arch my back and moan, closing my eyes and letting my head fall back. A third finger joins as he licks and sucks my clit, moving faster and deeper with every stroke. It’s almost trancelike, how rhythmic and repetitive the movements are. Perfectly in sync, tickling that spot deep inside me while the rigid tip of his tongue grinds against the nub of my clit. I begin to moan incoherently, trying and failing to stifle the noise. I don’t want my sister or daughter to hear me, but at the same time, I’m losing control. Hunter moves faster and faster, never breaking rhythm for even a second, until finally I’m on the edge of coming.

  “Oh, Hunter,” I whimper weakly. My whole body is starting to shake. But before I can reach the brink, he stops. I gasp in confusion and disappointment, my eyes opening to stare at him pleadingly. But there’s a devilish look on his face, and I know he stopped for a good reason.

  “You’re teasing me,” I pout.

  He straddles me hooking my legs over his shoulders as he bends down to kiss me softly. I can feel the head of his thick cock positioned at my slick opening, and I hold my breath in anticipation. Those dark eyes gaze into mine deeply. “When you come, I want to feel it. I want that sweet honey all over my cock, Blossom. I can’t guarantee I’ll be gentle. I want you...more than you could ever know, angel,” he growls.