Hunter turns out to be a fantastic boyfriend. As long as I am meticulously clear about what I need and want and expect. Sometimes I feel frustrated that he doesn’t take it for granted he should tell me if he’s going to play cards with his brother after work…I also have to remember things are moving pretty quickly with him.
I’m not sure if it’s a blessing or a curse that we live on opposite sides of a duplex. I’ve now combed over Hunter’s entire half of our building, and between the mattress on the floor in his room and the increasingly smelly weight lifting equipment in the dining room, I’m pretty insistent that we spend most of our time on my half.
I know we’ve only been together a short time, but I can already see how he gets engrossed in his work. I try not to take it personally or smother him. But I also decide that it’s perfectly acceptable for his girlfriend to come visit him in his lair while he’s busy being the mad scientist.
Not that he would ever dream of conflating romance with his lab space. His microscope is sacred to him. Regardless, I can’t contain my excitement when I finally pin down a date with Asa Wexler, the investor, so I duck into Hunter’s lab late one afternoon to share the news in person.
My breath catches when I see him bent over his microscope. He’s so focused, moving his samples around delicately, muttering to himself while he takes notes on what he sees. I don’t want to startle him, so I slide up behind him and say his name gently.
“Hunter.”
He spins slowly on his stool and smiles. I step toward him, standing in between his legs. This is pretty hot. I put my hands on his shoulders and fiddle with his collar. “What brings you in here, Abigail?”
In lieu of answering, I start to hitch up my skirt. “What’s happening?” He asks, eyes wide.
“Well,” I tell him, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. I like how he looks, all tucked in and put together. I can’t wait to make him come apart. “I have news.”
“Is the news related to or separate from the sexual things you are doing right now?” He honks my breasts and looks up at me, hopefully.
“We have a date that Mr. Wexler is coming to campus—December 7—and I managed to schedule you a lunch with him. Just the two of you.”
“Just us? You won’t be there?”
This makes me pause. “You want me there for your big pitch? I don’t even know anything about cellular biology…”
Hunter places his hands on my shoulders. “Neither does Wexler. That’s the whole point. I need someone else who knows how to talk to people.”
I pull his hand up to my face and kiss his palm. “I know this is very important to you, Hunter.”
“Exceedingly important.”
“If you want me to come with you, I’ll be there. We’re a team, right?”
He nods. “Thank you, Abigail. I don’t know how to thank you enough.”
Shirking out of my top and tossing off my bra, I inch closer to his chest. “I can think of a few ways,” I tell him, drawing his strong hands back to my skin, sighing as he moves immediately to perform magic on my nipples.
“I never imagined bringing a woman into the lab before,” he says, eyes focused on my stiffening peaks. He looks up to see me licking my lips. I’m already practically panting.
“Dr. Crawford,” I say. “I’m going to need you to fuck me here.”
He yanks me onto his lap, the seams of my skirt straining as my legs spread wide to wrap around his waist on the stool. He nips at my neck as my head drops back. I’m fully exposed for him except for the skirt bunched up at my waist. “I need to put my slides back before we continue,” he says, turning in the stool, not moving me from his lap. I can feel his cock bulging hard between us, pulling at his khaki pants.
Hunter keeps one arm around my waist to steady me and gently removes the slide from the microscope. He pulls open a drawer and I feel a rush of cold air. “The samples are cryogenically frozen,” he says, licking at my shoulder and throat while he files his samples. “There.” He nudges the drawer shut with his knee. “Now you’re my only specimen.”
I squeak as Hunter lifts me up and places me on the table. “It’s so cold,” I say, shivering as he lowers me back.
“I can help,” Hunter says, snapping on a pair of gloves. I wasn’t sure what direction we were headed, but I’m definitely into it as Hunter slides his hands up my legs, tugs down my panties and tosses them across the room. “I’ve been wanting to study you, Abigail. I want to see everything about you.”
I feel something cold and I look down to see Hunter dabbing a slide against my pulsing center. He kisses me as he presses the glass lid onto the slide, and then he wheels over to his microscope and looks into the eyepiece. “I knew it,” he breathes. “You’re alive for me, Abigail. Vibrant, flowing with life. Beautiful.”
When he looks back at me, his eyes are wild, heady with lust. He moves to take off his gloves, but I grab his wrist. “Leave them on,” I pant, grinning, and Hunter nods, returning his fingers to the spot I need them most. “Yes, Dr. Crawford,” I moan as he slips a sheathed finger inside. “Just like that.”
By the time Hunter whips me into white-hot ecstasy on the table, I can’t really focus on my surroundings any longer. Eventually, he stands and nudges me to the edge of the table. Standing between my legs, he unzips his pants and pulls out his cock. I see it twitching, weeping with the same excitement I feel. He looks around the room, pausing. “I don’t have a condom here,” he says, continuing to stroke himself.
“I have an IUD!” There’s no way I’m leaving this room without Hunter fucking me.
He nods, considering. “I had extensive medical testing before going into space,” he says.
“Jesus Christ, Hunter, please fuck me.”
He grins, then, and places a gloved hand on my thigh. “Abigail,” he scolds. “In this room, I prefer to be called Dr. Crawford.” And then I gasp as he crashes into me. Gone is the gentle lover from my bedroom. This is like wild Hunter on the dining room floor, ramped up to one thousand. He starts to sweat and I can feel his heart race as he pounds into me on the table. He leans over me, fondling my breasts while he hammers his hips. I love every rough thrust.
“Abigail,” he pants. “You drive me mad. You’re so slick and tight.”
My fists claw mindlessly at his chest, seeking purchase in his shirt as I feel another orgasm building. Just as Hunter begins to swell inside me, his rock-hard shaft growing bigger, I topple over the edge, shouting his name, not caring who hears.
“Yes,” he growls. “Gaahh!” And then I feel his release pulsing, spurting inside me. It seems endless, the powerful rush of all that he has, emptying into me alongside his whispers of devotion and adoration.
Later, after we’ve both put ourselves back together and I declined Hunter’s offered alcohol wipes for my nether regions, I ask him what he saw on the slide he made during our table session. “Lactobacillus bacteria, mostly,” he says. “But it was your lactobacillus bacteria, with your unique blend of amino acids and proteins.” He kisses my knuckles. “I can’t wait to learn about every cell of your being, Abigail.”
And, odd as that seems, I recognize this as Hunter Crawford’s highest sign of devotion.