Chapter 3

HUNTER

I wasn’t dreaming.

She was on top of me, already grinding, already moaning. My eyes opened slowly, unfocused, and there she was—straddling my hips, her hands on my chest, her hair a messy halo around her flushed face.

I blinked. “Chloe?”

She didn’t stop. Didn’t answer. Just rocked her hips harder.

I wasn’t even fully awake and I was already hard.

Her heat wrapped around me. Slick. Tight. Rhythmic. But more than that—it felt intelligent. Her pussy fluttered and clenched with purpose, like it knew exactly how to massage my cock. Like it was coaxing me toward something.

Every thrust, every shift of her hips, sent sparks up my spine. She squeezed me in waves—pulsing, teasing, milking. It was like she could read my body better than I could.

I groaned, still catching up. My arms moved on instinct, hands finding her thighs, then her waist. She leaned down, kissed my neck, bit gently at my ear.

“I needed you,” she whispered.

She came the first time within seconds. Then again. Her fingers dug into my shoulders as she trembled, rode it out, then immediately started moving again.

I hadn’t even said a full word.

Time slipped. She kept riding. Moaning. Coming.

I was still inside her. Still hard.

She came again.

And again.

“Let me prep for anal,” she said breathlessly, starting to pull away.

But I grabbed her hips. “No. Not yet. Not until I—”

She gasped. Nodded. Kept moving.

I couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. I wasn’t in pain, but there was this pressure inside me—building and building with nowhere to go.

She came again.

And again.

And again.

My hands gripped her ass, helping her move faster, harder, until I could barely breathe.

“Chloe—I’m gonna come,” I warned, barely recognizing my own voice.

She didn’t slow. Just nodded once, then lifted herself off in one graceful motion, positioning her body over mine.

I came in long, hot ropes—thick and forceful—spattering her neck, her collarbone, her breasts. It kept coming. More than I remembered ever releasing before. It coated her skin, glistening. Some landed on her jaw. One strand curled into the dip above her sternum.

I watched her nostrils flare at the scent.

Her eyes half-lidded, she ran a finger through the mess on her chest and brought it to her mouth.

She sucked it clean.

Then another.

She smiled while she did it—absentmindedly, like she was tasting frosting, not come. Her tongue darted out to swipe a line from her collarbone. She looked utterly content.

And fuck, that look undid me all over again.

She caught her breath, gave me a final satisfied smile, and whispered, “Shower time. Don’t go anywhere.”

Then she slipped off the bed—naked, glistening, radiant—and padded toward the bathroom with a saunter that suggested she knew exactly what kind of mess she’d left behind.

I sat on the edge of the bed, breathing hard, palms on my knees. My thoughts tried to come back online. What day was it? Saturday. Right. Groceries. Laundry. Something else...

But all I could think about was her body. Her mouth. Her voice.

I needed to come again. Just to clear my head.

Right?

CHLOE

She sang in the shower.

Not loudly. Just under her breath. A tune that didn’t exist, but came from the same place her glow did.

She toweled off, smiling to herself.

In the mirror, her breasts still glistened slightly. Swollen from attention, flushed from heat. She admired the shape, the fullness, the way they moved when she shifted her hips. Her nipples were still sensitive, almost tender. She chose a top that clung just enough, that dipped low enough, to keep that reaction going. She wasn’t dressing for the day—she was dressing for him.

Hunter was ... incredible.

Everything she imagined. And more. His stamina. His body. His responsiveness. It wasn’t just physical—it was perfect. Like her mind had sculpted him, and he’d risen to meet it without question.

She felt wrecked. Fuzzy. But not tired. Not spent.

Satisfied.

And ready for more.

She dried off, walked to her dresser, and sat down to do her makeup without even thinking. Just a bit of gloss. A flick of liner. Her body wanted to be admired. And she had plans.

Hunter wasn’t the end of this.

He was the beginning.

She pulled on a pair of shorts, then glanced at her phone.

She didn’t expect a message. They weren’t close like that—her and Gina. Just playful looks, a few laughs in the office, a shared buzz from that strange dream.

But still, she thought about her. Wanted her.

And today, she felt emboldened enough to act.

She chewed her lip. Considered. Then typed:

hey. wanna come to dinner tomorrow?

She stared at the message.

Then hit send.

A minute passed.

Her phone buzzed.

YES. what time?

Chloe smiled. Wider than she meant to.

Validated.

GINA (Earlier)

The weekend stretched out in front of her like a bad promise.

She’d already showered. Twice. Already taken a walk. Already deleted and redownloaded Tinder just to see if something clicked.

Nothing did.

Her body felt wound tight. Everything sensitive. Her nipples, her thighs, even the soft place behind her ears. She’d edged herself twice that morning and still couldn’t come.