7. Hunt

CHAPTER 7

HUNT

"Fuck, I love that hand wrapped around my cock," I groan, hooking her leg around my waist as I slip my hand between her legs. She's already wet for me. Her head falls back on a moan.

I grind my thumb against her clit, teasing her until she's gasping for breath, unable to keep up what she's doing to my cock.

As soon as she's nice and distracted, I drag her up my body, forcing her to sit on my face. "Wrap those perfect lips around my cock, goddess," I order. "And sit that perfect pussy right here while you do it."

"Hunt," she moans, eagerly stretching forward to obey.

I drag her down onto my waiting mouth as she plunges down on my cock.

Fuck. That mouth.

I attack her pussy, trying to get her off before she has me coming down her throat. She's gotten way too good at sucking me off. But we both know I'm not coming anywhere but inside her pussy. Until she pops pregnant, I'm not wasting a single drop.

I wrap my lips around her clit, sucking hard.

She soaks my face, moaning around my cock as she comes all over me.

She's still shaking when I flip her around, her eyes dilated, her mouth open in a little "O".

"Ride me, sweetheart," I growl, thrusting up into her. "Hard."

I don't have to tell her twice. Her thighs clamp around my hips as she lifts herself up and drops back down on my cock, her tits bouncing. She fucks me as if it's her job, taking me over and over again.

"Hunt," she groans. "You're so deep."

"Good. Then I'll be right where I need to be to get you nice and pregnant, Molly." I sit up, wrapping her hair around my fist as I claim her lips. Our tastes mingle on my tongue. "Come for me, goddess."

Her ass meets my thighs with a slap of sound again. And again.

I bite her lip.

She shouts my name, coming hard.

"Molly," I groan, my cock pulsing as I come with her. I pull her close, devouring her mouth, holding on to her as if she's the only thing rooting me to reality. In moments like this, I think she may be. She's my goddamn life. The only thing that matters anymore.

"See? Mornings aren't so bad," she whispers, pressing her face to my throat.

I chuckle, placing a kiss to her sweaty skin.

Christ, I'm so fucking in love with her.

"I think we should go out tonight," Molly says over breakfast a little while later.

I eye her skeptically.

"We can't stay cooped up forever, Hunt. Eventually, we have to deal with people."

"I hate people," I mutter around a bite of eggs. Truthfully, they're all starting to piss me off. Every time we go out, it's a problem. I'm tired of people bringing up my injury or treating her like crap. No matter how many times I growl and snap, it just happens again the next time. I'm over it. The damn gossip column isn't helping anything. We're the new "It" couple in town. It's ridiculous.

"No, you don't," she says, smiling sweetly. "You just hate that they won't leave us alone. But I don't want to feel like we have to hide." Sadness drifts through her eyes. "We can't live that way."

Well, fuck. If this is important to her, then it's important to me. I can't tell her no.

"We'll go out," I say, and then I narrow my eyes. "But I'm not going to promise to be nice, goddess."

She glances up at me, smiling. "Do you ever?"

When it comes to her? Fuck no.

"Why the fuck is everyone staring at us?" I growl, glancing around the Park Avenue Bar as I lead her toward our usual booth later that night, my hand on the small of her back. I swear to God, they're staring as if they've never seen us before.

"Oh my gosh," Molly groans, digging through her purse. "I bet the stupid gossip column put something else in there about us!"

I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. The gossip column has become the bane of my existence. It's bad enough that people bug the fuck out of me everywhere I go. Now, they bug the fuck out of Molly, too. Every old lady in this town keeps asking when we're getting married or when we're having babies. I keep wanting to snap at every one of them that I'm fucking working on it if they'd give me five damn minutes to ensure she's in love with me.

Half the time, I think she might be. I've started to say it a thousand different times. Like this morning. I came so fucking close to telling her. But like usual, I bit my tongue, worried that maybe I'm rushing it, and if I tell her, she'll go running for the hills.

If I lose her now, it's going to crush me.

I thought walking away from football was the hardest thing I'd ever have to face. I was wrong. Losing Molly will fucking destroy me. Football was a career. My surly ass survived when it was gone. I won't survive without her. In two weeks, she's flipped everything on its head. She's invaded every part of my life, become necessary to my survival.

I help her slide into our booth before sliding in beside her. She fumbles her phone out of her pocket while I look around, groaning when I see the same waitress who always gives us problems glaring from across the bar. I swear, she fucking hates me. Which is typical, but she's a bitch to Molly, too. That pisses me off.

"Oh my gosh!" Molly groans, shoving her phone at me. "Look at this."

I stop scowling at the waitress and slide my arm around Molly. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"Another freaking story about us."

I scan the column.

Breaking News!

Word on the street is that our resident QB has scored a touchdown with a certain blonde moneymaker. She hasn't been spotted at home in days. I see football hunks hauling junk in the future!

"My stuff is not junk," Molly huffs. "That's rude."

I crack a smile. "That's the part you're upset about, huh?"

"Yes. They called my stuff junk."

I gently tangle my hand in her hair, tipping her head back to kiss her. "This football hunk will haul your not-junk anytime, goddess. Just say the word."

Her wide blue eyes meet mine. "Hunt, are you…?"

I open my mouth to tell her that, fuck yeah, I'm asking her to move in, but before I can, the bitchy waitress slams menus down on the table, clearing her throat. I growl, pulling away from Molly.

"What can I get you?" she snaps.

"A better attitude, for starters."

Her green eyes narrow.

Molly places a hand on my arm. "Just water for me. He'll take a beer. The Silver Spoon Crest. And can we please have nachos?"

"Yeah, fine." She spins on her heel and storms off.

"Jesus Christ," I mutter.

"It's fine."

"It's not fine," I growl, eyes narrowed at Molly. "She's rude as fuck."

"I know." Molly gives me a tight smile. "In case you haven't noticed, most women are rude to me when you're around, Hunt. They hate me because I'm with you. That's my life now. Everyone hates me."

"Jesus." My heart clenches when I see tears swimming in her eyes. "Molly."

"It's fine."

No, it isn't fine. There's nothing at all fine about this. She's the love of my life. If people can't treat her with respect, they have no business talking to me. She's the one I care about, not rude women or men who shoulder their way past her to get to me. They can all fuck off. In fact, I wish they would.

"Goddess, I?—"

"I'll be right back," she says suddenly, jumping to her feet.

"Molly, wait. I?—"

She doesn't give me time to finish. She scurries from the booth, practically running for the bathroom. I watch her go, my heart in my fucking throat.

Fuck. This is bad. Really fucking bad.

I sit back and close my eyes, taking a deep breath. I have to fix this because I can't lose her. I won't lose her. She's my life, plain and simple. Without her, nothing else matters. For months, I've been a dick, wallowing in self-pity. She snapped me out of it and made me feel alive again. Because of her, I'm actually fucking happy.

Being on the field doesn't even compare to the way she makes me feel. If I could have my career back, I wouldn't take it. I'd choose her without hesitation. That's the kind of serious I am about her. That's how much I fucking love her.

I slide out of the booth, going after her. One way or another, she's going to hear what I have to say.