Hunter’s Baby

by Alexis Abbott

  When it finally slows down, I let my hand off her mouth and slowly push her off my cock. She puts her hands ahead of her and crawls forward, flopping down and panting on the bed, blushing beautifully. She cracks her eyelids open and looks at me with warm, loving blue eyes that melt my heart.

  I crawl up forward after her, our heads at the foot of the bed, and I scoop her up into my arms. She giggles as I cuddle her close to me, and even though my cock is still stiff and needy, I take a moment to just be with her while she cools down. Her blushing face is the most beautiful thing in the world to me. We smile at each other, finally able to push everything else away from the two of us. But even as she stares into my eyes, her hand reaches down and wraps around my cock. She plays with it idly as she watches my massive chest rise and fall. I hear her give a satisfied murmur, and I move forward and kiss her.

  Her lips are warm and delicious, and our tongues flirt with each other briefly before I pull away and get one more look at that picturesque face before I start kissing it on the nose, the cheeks, the neck, everything I can find, until she’s a giggling mess. My hands go to her sides, and I rub her up and down, feeling her softness as she wiggles in my grasp.

  Finally, she’s ready for more. I gently turn her over onto her back, and I rub her quivering legs before sliding my hands under them and raising them up to my shoulders. I bend her backward until her legs are sticking straight up, and I watch her lick her lips as she watches my cock push against her slick lips.

  “Are you read?” I ask in a thick, husky tone.

  “I’ve been ready for so many years,” she breathes.

  I impale her with my cock, burying it deep into her, and she grips the sheets with both hands as I start to rut into her. I’m not holding anything back this time, letting my muscles work almost on autopilot, rocking back and forth with greater speed each time. I feel my balls so heavy and ready for release that my precum is already beading up and spilling out of the thick tip of my cock. I’m overflowing with love for her, and I need to pour it out into her soon before it all comes spilling out on its own. It feels like a fire inside me forcing its way out. That risk spurs me on and excites us both, because I know she can feel me in there.

  I hold onto her hips and start using her to buck into fiercely, and something about that untamed ferocity starts to get her tense again in the same way my measured, relentless precision did minutes ago. Any way I use my body, it excites her, as if we were made for one another. Or rather, we’ve grown to be good for each other over the years, even in those years that we’re apart.

  I can’t pretend to explain what it is between the two of us that works in tandem and feels so right, but it’s a force that neither of us could resist if we wanted to.

  My release is coming soon, and I make sure that she’s right there with me. I have such a command over her body that I know just how to thrust into her to drive her closer and closer with every thrust. She starts to pant, gripping the sheets and clenching her eyes shut as I pound into her. My balls start to tighten, and I know I’m about to fall over the edge. She opens her eyes to see my concentrated, pained face, my rippling muscles gleaming with sweat in the lamplight, and that tips the scales for her.

  She arches her back, and we come together. I feel such a forceful orgasm that my legs shake, despite all the powerful muscles holding my body up. The seed shooting out of my long shaft feels white-hot, and the feeling of release puts my mind in a spinning, heightened place that’s even better than the high adrenaline gives me. Shot after shot, my body contracts to give her everything I have in blissful release, plastering the insides of her with my seed. She gasps and writhes with her orgasm, tears running from her eyes as she gets so overwhelmed she almost laughs. The smile on her face touches my heart, and in that moment, I know what it means to be madly, wildly in love.

  We rest, panting in the dim light as we stare at each other. I bend down and kiss her on the lips, a long kiss we draw out as much as we can before we break apart and roll to the bed, exhausted.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up,” I say at last, my voice still thick and husky.

  “Yeah,” she breathes. “Yeah, that sounds…really good.”

  The next morning, I lean back in the chair at the kitchen table, full of the breakfast I cooked. Blossom and Sage are doing the same, while Flora only managed to eat two thirds of the massive plate I set in front of her, and she looks at the rest of it with wide eyes, as if she has never had to face such a challenge before.

  “So...we’re going to hire him as a live-in chef, right?” Sage asks Blossom at last before forcing herself to stand up and collect our plates. Blossom laughs as she carries them to the sink to start cleaning up.

  “I can get that,” I offer.

  “Not if Blossom and Flora want to start the day on time,” Sage replies, and I raise my eyebrow at Blossom.

  “What time does your shift start?”

  Blossom jumps in her seat, looking at the time and holding back a curse. “Too soon. Let’s get going! Flora, honey, let me grab your lunch real quick.”

  “I’m so full my tummy gonna ‘splode,” Flora says in awe, apparently at peace with death.

  Five minutes later, miraculously, the three of us are in the car as I pull out and start driving Blossom to work.

  “You look cute in that uniform, you know,” I say with a smile. She rolls her eyes, plucking at the uncomfortable apron ruefully.

  “I can’t wait to throw this thing in a fire.”

  “We’ll make s’mores,” I say, chuckling.

  “Yeah!” Flora chimes in from the back, excited, and I grin over at Blossom.

  “See? We’re committed now.”

  It only takes a few minutes to get Blossom to work, and I pull up to the side of the road and let her climb out of the car.

  “Are you sure you’re okay driving her to school?” she asks, just shy of wringing her hands. “Despite what Sage says, I really don’t want to turn you into the errands guy.”

  “I don’t feel like the errands guy,” I say, flashing a smile back at her. “But if you get me a coffee when you get off work, we’ll call it even.”

  She smiles and blushes at me, then lets herself laugh before shutting the door. I see her mouth “Drive safe!” at me as she waves, and Flora waves goodbye to her as I pull away.

  I drive in silence for a few moments. The school is a little farther, but to say I don’t mind getting to do something as simple as driving my daughter to school is an understatement. After a few minutes, I glance into the rearview mirror and see Flora staring out the window.

  “Still feeling that breakfast, kiddo?” I ask, smiling.

  “I want bacon forever,” she replies, and I can’t help but laugh. But after a few more moments of silence, she speaks again.

  “Do you like Mommy?”

  I feel my heart catch in my throat, and I don’t know what to say at first.

  “Yeah,” I say at last. “You could say I like your mommy. She’s pretty great.”

  “She’s the best,” Flora agrees, as if stating a simple fact. “She like you a lot. You’re like best friends.”

  “We used to be best friends a long time ago,” I say.

  “I’m glad you friends again,” she says. She can’t possibly know what she’s saying, but I find myself trying to push my heart down my throat again.

  “Yeah,” I say at last, feeling choked up. “Me too.” Another pause. “What about you, huh? Any thoughts?”

  “You’re the biggest man I ever seen,” she says as if commenting on a monument, and I snort a laugh. “Also, you make breakfast better than the place Mommy takes us on Sunday. So I like you.”

  I can’t keep the smile off my face.

  “Thanks, kiddo. You’re pretty cool, too.”

  “I know,” she says mildly. I hope she keeps that nonchalant self-confidence forever.

  We fall into silence again, but I keep glancing at the rearview mirror. My smile starts to fade into a frown as I
turn yet another corner through the quiet suburb, and as I watch the car a ways behind me follow me yet again down this twisting path I’ve been detouring through, it confirms my suspicions.

  We’re being tailed.

  “Hey, kiddo?” I ask, still keeping an eye on the car tailing us.

  “Yeah?”

  “What do you think about skipping school today?”

  Her eyes go wide.

  “You can do that?”

  “Only with your parent’s permission,” I say calmly. “So let’s go see what your Mommy thinks, how about that?”

  Blossom

  I know I should be more cautious. I know I should slow down. But all morning, it’s like I’ve been floating around on cloud nine, my toes barely brushing the ground beneath me. I have had the same dopey, lovesick smile on my face ever since breakfast this morning. There is just something so beautiful, so wholesome, about seeing the man I adore interacting so sweetly and naturally with my sister and daughter. I used to worry that when (or if) I ever eventually brought a man home to meet my unconventional little family, it would be awkward. I mean, Sage and I have kind of a system worked out by now. We work together seamlessly, sharing responsibilities around the apartment, the bills, the cleaning, the cooking-- all of that. And most importantly, the two of us know exactly how to balance it all with taking care of Flora. She is the centerpoint of everything, the hinge upon which every other factor turns.

  I always imagined that introducing some random guy into the mix would just create a series of train wrecks. That perhaps having a man around would distract me from my duties as a mom, or that Sage--who is notoriously choosy about who she deems worthy of her approval-- would resent having him around. Maybe Flora wouldn’t like him, or she would be afraid of him. Or worse, that I would accidentally introduce someone dangerous into my little world and put not only myself but my sister and daughter in jeopardy. Dating, under even the best of circumstances, can be fraught with challenges and pitfalls. Dating as a single mom throws several wrenches into the mix. And then, of course, there’s the obvious elephant in the room: that Hunter is no ordinary potential boyfriend. He and I have a long history together. He knew me back before I ever moved to Albany, before I became a mother. Back when I was just a modest, shy, sheltered small-town girl picking wild berries and dreaming of running away.

  As I chat mindlessly with customers, sharing tepid small talk and ringing up their orders, my mind is far away. Physically, I’m stuck in the present moment here in the Lazy Bean, but mentally? I’m way off in the future, daydreaming about how beautiful things could be if they would only work out the way I want them to. For once, I can look to the future and see a faint, glorious glimmer of something beautiful waiting for me out there. My fantasies are mostly domestic these days. I would love to move out of our cramped apartment, maybe get out of the hustle and bustle of the city. We could find a place with a yard. Sage has always had a green thumb, but it’s hard to keep much of a garden when you live in an apartment several floors up from the ground. She could plant herbs and vegetables and flowers, teach Flora how to care for delicate plants and get her hands dirty. I could quit this dead-end job and go back to school to study my passion: crime and journalism. I could finally work toward the kind of career I’ve always dreamed of.

  Hunter would keep us safe, wouldn’t he? I would never again have to lie awake imagining all the millions of things that could go wrong. Being a parent, especially a single mother, means constant worry. He could drive Flora to and from school. If she ever had a mean teacher or a playground bully, between the two of us, Hunter and I would set them straight. Nobody could touch us. Flora would have a mother and a father who love her and want what’s best for her. Sage could finally take a step back and start living her own life a little more. I know she’s content to stick around and help out, but for how long? She’s nineteen, and she’s had the same restless spirit since she was a little girl. Surely there will come a point when she needs to spread her wings and fly. And if I have Hunter around to pick up the slack, Sage can do just that.

  We could be a real, functional, loving family. My little girl would grow up knowing how safe and protected and deeply loved she is. We would support each other through the good times and the bad, smiling through it all, knowing sunshine is just around the corner.

  That’s all I want. And I can’t deny my feelings for Hunter, either. When I look at him, my heart flutters like a bird bursting free of its cage to take to the skies. When he touches me, every nerve in my body is on fire. I’m just as hot for him now as I was back when we used to roll around together under the lilac blossoms. I’m so blissfully happy imagining what could be that I can almost push away that nagging concern as to Hunter’s vigilantism. Sure, the man I love treads along the sharp edge of a knife. He lives dangerously. And there are those who would condemn him for what he’s done. But right now, all I can think about is how soft he is with Flora. How gentle. And how fiercely he will protect our family if I only give him the opportunity to prove it to us. He could guard us with his strength, keep us from harm...

  I’m so deep in thought that it’s not until he’s all the way up to my cash register, scowling with disdain, that I recognize the customer in front of me. It’s the same asshole from Friday, the one who bitched me out for being distracted at work and got Marty all up in my business. And he doesn’t look like he’s feeling any more charitable and patient today than he did then. In fact, as soon as he steps up to me, he rattles out a long, heavy sigh. I haven’t even said hello yet and he’s clearly already sniffing for trouble. Some guys just can’t control themselves, I guess.

  But I’m at work, and even though my manager Marty’s not here today, he’s got one of his favorite sycophants, a middle-aged woman named Helen, keeping tabs on all the employees on this shift. Myself, included. I have to keep it together.

  I greet him with a cheery, “Good morning! Welcome to the Lazy Bean. How may I--”

  “Drop the spiel, alright? I already heard it once. What, you don’t recognize me from five minutes ago?” the man grunts, glaring at me. I feel my face go ashen pale as it hits me that I must have been so zoned out on autopilot that I didn’t even notice his familiar face when he came through my line the first time. I hoist up my fake customer service smile and try to do some damage control.

  “Oh! I’m so sorry. You placed an order earlier, didn’t you?” I ask.

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. You were too distracted to pay attention, just like last time, and you got my order all wrong,” the man growls. “You got some kind of brain problem?”

  “Uh. Not that I know of. My apologies, sir. Could you tell me your correct order again so I can have the barista make it for you the right way? It’ll be on the house, of course,” I add quickly, looking at him with almost pleading eyes. I notice now something I must have missed before. It’s definitely the same guy, but he looks… off, somehow. His skin is all blotchy and yellowish under one eye, almost like he’s wearing a thin layer of makeup to hide a bruised eye.

  “I want a large black coffee. Half decaf. With just a dash of soymilk. That dairy shit fucks up my stomach. You could’ve poisoned me with this cow’s milk crap,” he accuses, holding up his old to-go cup. I gulp hard. He’s right. Maybe he’s lactose intolerant or has a dairy allergy or something. I’d be pretty grumpy about that, too. I decide to try and cut him some slack. Between the wrong order and the messed-up eye, he sure looks like he’s had a rough time.

  “Yes, sir. I’ve got that coming up,” I tell him cheerfully. “So, how are you today?”

  “Hmm?” he grunts, frowning as though he’s never been asked that question in his life.

  I falter a moment. I had totally expected him to just answer the question. I mean, has this dude never encountered small talk before? What a weirdo.

  I continue on, injecting as much sympathy into my tone as possible and gesturing subtly to his eye, “What happened there? Are you okay? It looks a little painfu
l.”

  His jaw twitches and his beady eyes narrow at my apparently too intrusive line of questioning. He sniffs disdainfully and averts his gaze, replying gruffly, “Yeah. Just had a bad fall, that’s it. None of your business, by the way.”

  Wow. What an ass. It takes a monumental helping of self-restraint for me to tug my mouth into a polite smile again and reply, “Sure. Of course. Well, your order should be ready down at the end of the bar. Have a great day, sir!”

  “Hmph,” he grunts in response before shuffling off. I frown after him, a shiver running down my spine. Something about him just puts me off. There’s something really weird about that guy. But now I have another customer coming up to me, so I tear my eyes away from Mr. Black Eye and get back to work.

  Moments later, I happen to look over during a brief lull in the busy hours and catch sight of the nasty guy leaving...just as another familiar face comes walking in. It’s Samantha, and even though the guy doesn’t seem to notice her (as many people seem to flat-out ignore homeless folks like her), she sure as hell notices him. She even stops and stares for a moment in the doorway, turning slowly to watch him shuffle away down the sidewalk before turning back to make intense eye contact with me. Seeing that there’s no one else in line at the moment, Sam comes rushing over, looking pale and freaked out.

  “Hey Sam, what’s up? You look like you just saw a ghost or something,” I greet her quietly. I glance around to make sure that busybody Helen isn’t hovering over me. To my relief, she must be off in the bathroom or something.

  Samantha leans in close, her whisper taking on a conspiratorial tone as she bursts out, “That’s the guy! Are you okay? The asshole who--”

  “Who? That dude who just left? Oh no. I’ve been serving him for years. Don’t worry about him. He’s annoying and rude, but he’s harmless,” I assure her.