In Strange Woods - Claire Cray Page 0,53

again and again as James shook and sobbed beneath him, pleas and praise babbling off his tongue. Then Hunter canted his hips just so, and James wailed.

“Right there,” James cried roughly, and grasped his cock. His head fell back with a long, swelling moan as he was jostled on the mattress, his hand moving fast along his flushed, straining length. “Fuck, you’re so good, that’s so fucking good…”

Hunter cursed through clenched teeth, the tension in his body winding so tight he could already feel tiny threads starting to snap. He bucked his hips hard and fast, pounding at the spot that had those long thighs shaking hard, that lean stomach sucking in, those velvety moans tightening into ragged gasps.

“God, Hunter,” James whispered weakly, and then came with the force of a grenade. His head whipped back, his hips jerking erratically on Hunter’s lap as his cock shot several long, pearly lines of come along his own stomach and chest. Tears glistened under his eyes, completing the vision of rapture.

Hunter devoured the sight, his thrusts turning loose and wild as his own tension shattered. He fell over James with a wrung-out groan, pleasure rolling through him in thunderous waves each time he plunged his cock deep into James’s spasming body. It was like they’d fused together, the pleasure storming through both of their bodies at once, echoing back and forth.

They shivered together through the aftershocks, sharing dazed, uncoordinated kisses as their heartbeats gradually slowed down. Finally Hunter collapsed on his side, still holding James in his arms.

James laid his head on the pillow beside him and met his eyes. His hair was damp with sweat, his features slack and blissful. He reached up to caress Hunter’s face for a moment before his hand dropped like he didn’t have the strength. “Jesus, Hunter,” he breathed, his lips barely forming the words.

Hunter couldn’t stop a smile from curving across his face, and watched James smile back just as widely before his eyelids drifted shut.

Chapter 22: Clear Morning

James woke up naked under warm sheets with a tender ass and a happy, tranquil feeling.

That couldn’t be right.

He quickly levered up on his elbows, looking around Hunter’s bedroom with a few surprised, sleepy blinks. He sat up all the way and looked down at himself, naked with a pool of bedding in his lap, and then at the door, through which he heard sounds coming from the kitchen. He turned around and looked at the clock behind the bed, eyes widening in surprise. A quarter after ten? He was about to throw off the bedding when Hunter softly rapped on the door.

“Come in,” James called. His voice was a little rough, either from sleep or from howling last night while being obliterated by Hunter fucking Quaid.

Hunter opened the door. He was dressed already, of course, in blue jeans and an ordinary black tee shirt that looked extraordinary around his chest and biceps. “Morning.”

“Morning. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep so late.” Scenes from the night before came fizzing up to warm his skin. Jesus. How…

“You needed it.” Hunter leaned against the doorframe. “You want some coffee?”

Shit, he was handsome. God, he’d been good. What was happening here? James stared at him in fascination for a moment before coming to. “Sorry?”

“Coffee?” Hunter was staring back at him quizzically. “Uh, it’s in the pot. Listen, I gotta be in Port Orton by noon. Won’t be back until five or so. I’m gonna leave you a key.”

James nodded, barely registering Hunter’s words, even though he was staring right into Hunter’s eyes. Why wasn’t his brain working?

Now Hunter tilted his head, worry flitting across his features. “Is everything…cool?”

“Oh. Yeah.” James laughed embarrassedly, rubbing his eyes. “I mean…I think you actually fucked my brains out, but it was worth it.”

“I…okay.” Hunter’s uncertain face was cleared by a cute, sheepish smile that made James want to tackle him. “There’s uh, clean towels in there if you wanna take a shower. I’m gonna get ready to go.”

That soft, warm feeling was in James’s chest again, and he wasn’t stupid. He knew what it was. He liked Hunter. Really liked him. Really fucking liked him. Like-liked him. He just didn’t know what to do with that insight at the moment. He couldn’t even analyze it. It was just there, a simple fact, inarguable.

When he came out to the kitchen, dressed again in his own clothes, Hunter was sitting at the dining table with a familiar green file folder in front of him and