And making sure that Hunter is fully sated is my most important job because there’s no telling what he’ll do if he bores of me.
When he’s fully drained, I pop off and give him a wide grin.
His chest rises and falls as he struggles to regain control, which I’m sure is not something he’s used to, as he’s always so well-measured.
“That was…unexpected,” he says, tucking his cock away.
I don’t want to spoil the moment, so I say nothing.
He looks over at my plate. “Fresh food is a luxury, so I recommend not letting it go to waste.”
It’s not what I would expect a man to say after blowing a load down my throat, but this is Hunter. He won’t change, and while we might never have the warm, affectionate Disney relationship I had so longed for in my youth, at least I know I’m safe.
For now.
Chapter 8
HUNTER
We settle into an awkward normalcy. Each morning, I take her up to the roof to garden, allowing her to pick what’s for breakfast. After we eat, I teach her how to purify water, can food, service the generator, basic survival skills, and whatever else comes up throughout the day.
I gave her prepper manuals to read, but that didn’t go over well because of her dyslexia. She punished me with glaring eyes the rest of the day and I haven’t pushed those on her again.
When we’re done with work for the day, what remains is us and what we have. Which is admittedly confusing.
Ever eager for her body, I take her each night in the ways that I can, clinging to the small shred of normalcy I’ve been gifted in this post apocalyptic world.
And afterward, I reflect on what my life might have been like if it wasn’t so tragic.
“How are you always on time with everything?” Fiona says as she takes a seat. She smells the spaghetti I’ve made, grinning. “And how is it your food is better than anything I’ve had before the apocalypse?”
“Fresh ingredients with no additives.”
Fiona twirls her pasta, which is too chaotic for my liking, but I don’t nag her to stop.
“I was wondering if I could sit out on the roof tonight. In one of the lawn chairs you have out there.”
I spike a brow. “Why?”
“I saw an egg twitching and I think it’s going to hatch soon.”
“Is that why I kept catching you up there today?”
“I was just popping in to check on them.”
“Fine. I’ll fire up the grill and you can have s’mores, but you’re not staying up there all night.”
Her face brightens. “I haven’t had those in…God, it’s been years.” She bites her lower lip teasingly. “It’d be a shame if the chocolate got a little messy and I’d have to clean it up.”
I frown, which might seem odd considering she’s implying giving me a blow job, but I’ve had to deal with a lot of new, out-of-the-ordinary things lately, and it’s weighing on me.
I’m a routine kind of guy, rarely deviating from the course I’ve set, and Fiona’s very presence has brought with it…deviations. Countless deviations.
At first, I’d tried to keep her in the bedroom, but she got pissy and I figured it would be good to have another set of hands to help around the place, especially since I’m trying to build up stores. It’s been just over a week now, and I’m finally adjusting to her presence without the constant desire to kill someone.
And no, that someone would not be Fiona. I’ve never had the urge to kill her.
After we finish eating, Fiona grabs some blankets and heads up to the roof. I pull a basket out from a cabinet, placing grahamcrackers, chocolate, marshmallows, and a bottle of wine inside to top off the night. I’ve never enjoyed drinking on account that I don’t like losing control, but I think Fiona might enjoy a glass.
