Page 75 of His Hungry Wolf

“We were on a camping trip at Mount Rainier.”

“Oh, you were talking about then. Well, that was because I didn’t think you were awake.”

“I wasn’t until you started jacking off.”

To my humiliation, he began to imitate me whimpering as I hid an orgasm.

“Ah, ah.”

“Shut up!” I protested. “And where were you just now?” I asked, changing the subject.

“I’ve decided to go back to doing my morning runs. It feels good.”

“Where’s your stuff?”

“I put everything away. I hope you don’t mind; I claimed a part of your closet and drawers. I don’t have a lot, so you still have plenty of room.”

“No, that’s fine,” I said, overwhelmed with relief. “I probably should have offered it to you before instead of making you live out of your bag.”

“You probably should have,” he said, teasing me on the way to the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, teasing him back.

To my surprise, Claude’s next workout was the best yet. He had shaved a full second and a half off his 50-yard dash, which was huge. And his cross-field passes were perfectly on point.

“Do you know what the difference is?” He asked me after I showed him the stats.

“Your morning run?” I asked, hoping he would say it was having his dick in my ass.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he replied, looking away disappointed.

What had he wanted me to say? ‘Take all of your stuff and leave my apartment.’ Because that was what I might as well have said if I suggested that it was the sex.

No, I wanted us to get back to what we had. I’ve accepted that things will never be exactly the same. And once he shows everyone what he can do at the showcase, he’ll end up on some team halfway across the country.

But if during this summer we rebuilt our connection, maybe this time we’d stay in contact. Maybe we’d even watch each other’s kids grow up. Did I want all of his babies to be mine? Obviously. But if I had to choose one, I knew which one I’d pick.

Over the following weeks, Claude’s stats got better and better. It turns out that we really had unlocked something within him. On top of that, things between us had never been better.

Every night I fell asleep wrapped in his strong arms. Initially, he wouldn’t hold me until we had been in bed long enough to believe that he was asleep. But too frustrated to wait it out one night, as soon as I turned off the lights, I backed into him. Still not doing it, I kept bumping him with my butt until he got the picture.

I’m sure he held me just to stop me from annoying him. But I was tired. I wanted to go to sleep. And that didn’t happen until I was buried in his arms with his scent all over me. What else was I supposed to do?

It was pretty soon after that something else happened. I found something in the bathroom after one of his insanely long showers. On the fogged-up mirror, there was a drawing of someone lying in bed with a speech bubble next to him. In it was written, ‘Fart’.

Was he telling me that I farted in my sleep? How dare he? To think, I gave up jacking off in the mornings for him. Rude! This required a response. But what?

I didn’t say anything about it when I left the bathroom. Instead, I plotted. What could I draw on the mirror to get back at him? Could I draw something that pointed out how annoyingly perfect his body was?

I guess I could. But it wasn’t the right tone. And maybe that just came to mind because I was brainstorming while watching him go through practice drills with his shirt off.

Damn, was he hot. He had to know what being forced to watch him shirtless was doing to me, didn’t he? He was such a bastard. A very hot, very ripped bastard.

It was then that it hit me. I knew what I was going to draw. But, how and when?

I could probably do something that appeared when the mirror fogged up from his crazy long shower. So, what could I use so that the drawing didn’t fog up? There was stuff for that, wasn’t there? I had to do some research.

“Can’t be bothered to pay attention today?” Claude asked me when he caught me on my phone instead of timing his sprints.