Page 23 of Because I Liked A Boy (Because I Liked A Boy Trilogy #1)

After The Storm

I’m being fucked by Hunter Hayes.

The thought echoed with every thrust, searing through me like fire as his cock slammed into me again, harder, deeper. My body stretched around him, clinging, taking him in ways I hadn’t even imagined.

“Shit, baby,” he rasped, voice guttural, broken. His forehead pressed to mine, green eyes blazing, sweat and rain dripping from his temple. His hips snapped forward, jolting a cry from my throat I couldn’t hold back. “So fucking tight. You feel that? Gripping me like you never want me to leave.”

My back arched, nails carving down his slick shoulders. The stretch bordered on unbearable, yet I wanted more—needed more. Every brutal snap of his hips stole my breath, every inch of him filling me until there was no space left to think, only to feel.

“Hunter—” My voice shattered, wrecked, half-moan, half-plea.

He growled, biting along my jaw as his hands locked on my hips, forcing me down harder. “Say it again. Say my name while I’m inside you.”

“Hunter.” It tore out of me, shameless and raw.

His grin turned feral, his thrusts sharper, faster, like my voice alone undid him. “That’s it, princess. Scream it. Let this whole fucking town know who’s inside you.”

The bed slammed against the wall, the storm outside rattling the windows, but nothing compared to the storm inside me. I was undone, strung tight, every nerve raw as he hit that spot over and over until I thought I might lose my mind.

He kissed me hard, filthy, his tongue tangling with mine as his hips pounded into me, relentless. His growl vibrated against my mouth. “Mine, Isabella. First, last, only. Mine.”

Then he stilled. His chest heaved, eyes dark and wrecked as he rolled us, flipping me in one clean motion.

My back hit the mattress, but before I could catch my breath he dragged me with him, leaving me straddling him, his cock still buried deep.

“Fuck—” I gasped, the stretch different now, sharper, fuller. My hands pressed into his chest, muscles flexing beneath my palms.

Hunter’s hands clamped on my hips, holding me there as he looked up at me with that feral grin, green eyes molten. “Ride me, baby.” His voice was gravel, desperate and demanding. “I want to see you lose it on my cock.”

Heat shot through me so fast I nearly came undone on the spot. My thighs trembled as I rocked once, twice, the drag of him inside me so intense I couldn’t breathe.

“That’s it,” he groaned, fingers digging bruises into my hips as he guided me. “Fuck—look at you. Dripping down my cock, taking every inch like you were made for me.”

My head tipped back, a moan ripping free as I ground down harder, chasing the friction. His thumb slid up to circle my clit, and I nearly screamed, the added touch making me clench tight around him.

“Hunter—” My voice was broken, my body already close, too close.

“Ride me, princess,” he rasped, jaw tight, sweat beading at his temple. “Ride me ‘till you can’t fucking breathe. Show me how much you need me.”

Every roll of my hips sent sparks bursting behind my eyes. Every thrust down onto him dragged another wrecked sound from my throat. His cock hit deeper like this, fuller, stretching me until I was trembling over him, nails clawing at his chest as the storm shook the house.

And the way he was looking at me—hungry, reverent, like I was everything—only drove me higher.

Every grind of my hips dragged me tighter around him, slick and messy, the wet sounds between us drowned out only by my broken moans and the storm outside.

Hunter’s thumb circled harder, ruthless, his other hand gripping my hip like he needed to anchor me to him. “That’s it, princess—fuck—you feel that? You’re squeezing the life out of me.” His voice was wrecked, guttural. “So greedy for my cock. My perfect girl.”

The praise shattered me. My head snapped back, hair sticking to my damp skin, every nerve on fire as I bounced harder, chasing the friction, the fullness, chasing him.

“Hunter—” His name broke out of me, high and desperate. My nails clawed his chest. “I—fuck—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, thrusting up to meet every roll of my hips, hitting so deep I saw stars. His thumb pressed harder to my clit, relentless. “Give it to me, baby. I want to feel you break on my cock. I want to feel you come all over me.”

The words snapped something inside me. My body tightened, vision blurred, and then the orgasm hit violent, overwhelming, ripping through me so hard I screamed his name. My thighs shook, my walls clamped around him, and still he fucked me through it, groaning loud and wrecked.

“Isabella—fuck, that’s it, soak me, baby.” His eyes burned into mine, wild and desperate. “You’re mine. Every scream, every drop mine.”

I collapsed against his chest, trembling, his cock still buried deep, pulsing, stretching me even as aftershocks ripped through me. My whole body shook, legs weak, but he didn’t stop he couldn’t. His thrusts turned rougher, reckless, each one dragging another gasp from my lips.

“Hunter—” I sobbed his name, overstimulated and raw, but still needing every filthy second.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, voice breaking, his jaw tight, green eyes locked on mine like he couldn’t look anywhere else. His grip on my hips was bruising now, his thrusts punishing. “You feel too fucking good—I can’t hold it—Jesus, I can’t—”

I clenched around him, milking him. His head dropped back, a guttural sound ripping from his throat, primal and raw.

“Fuck, Isabella…” he gasped, every muscle straining as his cock jerked deep inside me. “I’m gonna cum—fuck—I’m gonna cum inside you.”

“Yes,” I whispered, wrecked, nails dragging across his chest. “I want it, Hunter. Give it to me.”

That was all it took. His roar tore through the room, his hips snapping up hard as he spilled inside me, hot and endless, his cock throbbing so deep I swore I could feel him everywhere. His whole body shook beneath me, curses and growls vibrating through my chest as I clung to him, taking it all.

He kept thrusting through it, slower, riding out the release until he collapsed back against the pillows, chest heaving, sweat and storm water gleaming across his inked skin.

I stayed on top of him, shaking, full, my forehead pressed to his as our ragged breaths tangled in the dark. His voice was hoarse but steady when he spoke.

“Perfect,” he whispered, kissing me slow and filthy, like he still couldn’t get enough. “You’re perfect. Mine.”

For a long moment we stayed there, tangled together, my chest pressed to his, our hearts hammering in sync. His hands stroked lazy circles down my back, almost reverent, as if grounding himself in the reality of me.

His cock was still buried inside me, pulsing with the last echoes of release, our bodies joined in a way too raw, too intimate to breathe through. Every shallow shift made me gasp, made my walls flutter helplessly around him, pulling him back in even as his body softened.

Hunter’s forehead pressed to mine, his breath hot and uneven, his hands stroking my back like he was memorising me. He didn’t rush. Didn’t push. Just stayed there, inside me, holding me like he wasn’t ready to let go.

And God help me I wasn’t either.

It wasn’t just sex. It wasn’t just need. It was more. Terrifying in its closeness, in the way it left me bare in ways I’d never allowed. And yet, for the first time, I didn’t feel used. I felt wanted. Chosen. His.

Eventually Hunter pressed one last kiss to my shoulder and eased me back gently, sliding out. My body clenched around the loss, leaving me empty and aching in a different way.

“Stay,” he murmured, pressing my hip down when I tried to shift. “Don’t move.”

He disappeared into the en-suite, the sound of water filling the quiet. My chest rose and fell hard, the storm still rolling outside, but muted now compared to the chaos we’d just made.

When he came back, he had a damp cloth in one hand, a towel in the other. His hair was a mess, his chest still slick, but his gaze was steady, careful in a way I’d never seen before.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he said quietly as he sat at the edge of the bed, nudging my thighs apart.

“Never thought I’d say this,” he muttered as the cloth slid over my skin, warm and careful, “but I’m jealous of a fucking towel right now.”

A startled laugh broke out of me, shaky and breathless. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Not ridiculous.” His green eyes lifted briefly, sharp even in their softness. “Honest. You’ve got me so far gone, baby, even cleaning you up feels like something I should be grateful for.”

Heat pricked behind my eyes, not from arousal but from the terrifying fact that nobody had ever cared for me like this. Not after. Not when it mattered.

“Don’t hide from me, Isabella,” he said softly, soothing his hand over my knee. “Not now.”

So I let him.

The cloth was warm, his touch careful as he cleaned me up, wiping away the mess he’d spilled inside me with a tenderness that made my throat tight. He was quiet the whole time, focused, brows furrowed like it mattered more than anything else.

When he was done, he set the cloth aside and leaned down, kissing the inside of my thigh with the same mouth that had just wrecked me. Then another, higher, until I was trembling again but this time not from arousal. From something deeper. Something dangerously close to trust.

Hunter pulled the blanket over me before sliding in beside me, gathering me against his chest like I belonged there. His arm wrapped tight around my waist, his lips brushing my temple.

“You’re mine, Isabella,” he whispered again, softer now, but no less certain. “And I’ll take care of you. Every fucking time.”

His words sank deeper than I wanted to admit, burrowing into the place I’d kept locked for years.

I’d never been held like this after sex—never been treated like more than something to be used.

This wasn’t about possession or obligation.

This was him. Choosing me. Caring for me.

Claiming me in a way that was terrifying, addictive, and achingly gentle all at once.

My throat tightened as I melted into his chest, listening to the steady thud of his heart beneath my ear.

I wanted to freeze time. To keep this moment—his warmth, his scent, his voice promising things he couldn’t possibly know if he could keep.

Because for the first time in years, I didn’t feel like I belonged to anyone else. Just him. Just Hunter.

And lying there in his arms, the storm outside fading into the background, I almost believed him.

Almost.

Because deep down, a quiet voice still whispered the truth nothing this good ever lasted. I knew better than to believe in forever, better than to think someone like me could keep someone like him. But right now, wrapped in his arms, his breath steady against my temple, I wanted to believe.

Just for tonight, I let myself.