by Beth Michele
She picks up on the fourth ring, loud music blaring in the background. “Hey, Liv. What’s up?”
“What’s up?” I accuse, infuriated. “Why don’t you tell me what’s up? Are you having a party at my place?”
“No. Chill out, Liv. You know I wouldn’t do that. I’m exercising and Charlie’s supervising, that’s all,” she protests, as Hunter struts over, coming to stand in front of me. His gaze caresses me as he leans forward and one by one begins popping buttons on my blouse, layering open-mouth kisses to my chest. My eyes close momentarily; his lips feel like heaven against my skin.
“Okay. So how’s Charlie?” I sputter, my heartbeat skyrocketing, the change in my breathing audible.
“He’s great. Hey, you okay? You sound weird.”
“Tell her you have to go now,” Hunter prods, his tone low, whisking the fabric of my blouse away, a soft thud resounding when it lands on the carpet.
“I’m fine. I-I’ve gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow. Thanks again.” I hang up the phone without saying goodbye. Hunter takes it from my hand and throws it back in my purse. I’m wearing only my black lace bra and skirt now, and he’s circling me like a tiger ready to pounce on its prey. He skims kisses from one shoulder blade to the other, his hands following his lips, and I’m already whimpering.
When he’s finally in front of me again, he removes my glasses, placing them on the table. “These glasses hide your eyes, and they’re stunning. A fiery sea of blue. Are you fiery, Autumn?” he asks, his voice so smooth that I’m practically melting with lust. “Because I think you want to be, I think you are. You’re just afraid. You can let it out with me. I want you to. I want you to let it out all over me,” he seduces, and my lips part on a silent breath. “I saw her on the train,” he murmurs, pushing a ribbon of hair over my bare shoulder, “where did she go? Let her out.” His lips rest above my ear. “Set her free.”
I take my bottom lip between my teeth, warring with my desires. He shakes his head in disapproval, moving even closer, swallowing the space between us.
“Let me do that,” he urges, before framing my face with his hands, sucking at my bottom lip, dragging it into his mouth. His words, his alluring scent, the feel of his lips on mine, are driving me into a sensual frenzy and I snap, weaving my fingers through his hair, guiding him closer. I lick at his upper lip before our tongues collide, wrapped around one another in a heated kiss, lapping at each other, exploring, tasting.
We’re a flurry of tongues and lips as my hands wander down his back, slipping under his t-shirt, his smooth skin furthering my need to have him bare against me. He groans into my mouth as I continue my descent, my fingers sneaking under the waistband of his boxers while he grinds into me, the friction of his hard cock rubbing against my pussy intensifying the dampness between my thighs.
He slows our kiss, panting when he finally breaks away. “Turn around, sweetheart.” And I’m so dizzy with want that I quickly oblige. I’d do anything for him right now. All he has to do is say the word. His fingers fumble with the hook on my bra until it loosens, sliding over my shoulders, falling away. He snakes his arms around me from behind, hands cupping my breasts, thumbs flicking my nipples until they’re tight nubs. “Christ, Autumn, your tits… Jesus.”
“Mmmm, that feels good,” I moan, leaning my head back against his shoulder, pushing myself further into his hands. His mouth dances up my neck, licking and biting, his cock rubbing against my ass. The pleasure is overwhelming, pushing everything else from my mind. All my apprehension, all my worries, are floating away like a piece of driftwood on the ocean, the tide carrying them out to sea.
“Do you have any idea how badly I wanted to fuck you on the train?” he growls, and the way he talks impassions me beyond comprehension. The only men who speak like that are the ones in my novels. It’s a thousand times better in real life, evidenced by the fact that my panties are now worthless, completely covered in my own arousal.
His hands leave my breasts abruptly, spinning me around to face him before he sinks to his knees. He reaches around to tug on my zipper, my skirt dropping to the floor, leaving me exposed and breathless. Grabbing my thighs, he pulls me closer, scattering wet kisses across my belly, then inching lower, inhaling my sex. He looks up at me, a sexy-as-hell smile gracing his lips. “I love the smell of your pussy,” he mutters hoarsely. “I don’t remember the last time anyone made me this hard. You’ve been driving me crazy and now I intend to do the same to you. Lie down, Autumn,” he commands, and I won’t deny that I like the demanding tone of his voice.
I kneel on the bed and scoot to the pillows, flopping on my back rather ungracefully.
So much for being sexy.
Luckily, he didn’t notice because he’s stripping, and I’ve got a front row seat. He slides his t-shirt over his head, leaving me in a dreamy state. I’ve died and gone to heaven: broad shoulders, ripped muscles and, my favorite, the letter V leading down to a tiny trail of hair that I can’t wait to lick. My tongue skips across my lips, wanting a taste, wanting to glide up and down his cock.
He unbuttons his jeans and looks up to find me staring, raising a cocky brow before shrugging them off. My eyes drift lower, his erection making its presence known through his boxers. With one more glance in my direction, he lowers them to the carpet, his cock springing free. He is ridiculously beautiful and I can’t take my eyes off of him. “You ready for me, Autumn?” He grins and my lips press together in an attempt to suppress the tremor of excitement flowing through me.
“You seem to have one more item of clothing to remove,” he says, crawling up the bed and settling between my thighs. Hooking his thumbs into my panties, he slides them down my legs, tossing them over his shoulder. His eyes rake over my body. “You are one sexy woman, Autumn Winters,” he praises, and I cringe, guilt churning my stomach because I haven’t told him my real name, but I just can’t.
His gaze is intense, stripping me bare. I’ve never felt so open, and yet, he doesn’t even know my name. I’m one giant contradiction. Blowing out a breath, I attempt to empty my mind, be in the moment, focus on the pleasure he’s about to give me. My foot starts moving on the bed, anxiously awaiting the first touch of his mouth to my searing flesh.
“Spread for me, sweetheart,” he orders gruffly, his pupils dilating, breathing ragged. I feel his tongue drift along the underside of my leg, the cusp of my thigh, and I quiver. His head descends and disappears, before taking that first painstakingly slow, teasing swipe over my clit, my hips rising off the bed. He licks at me over and over, his long, skilled finger pushing inside my folds, soft noises erupting from my chest. I latch on to his hair, moaning, pulling him in, wanting him deeper.
“God, Hunter,” I whimper, his finger and his tongue working me, lost in a sea of sensation, my back bowing off the bed, eyes fluttering closed. “Yes, just like that, ahh,” I practically shout, unable to control myself, the pleasure igniting a spark, unveiling the other side of me that’s been long buried deep.
Sensing his stare, I open my eyes to view his lips, glistening with my arousal. “Touch yourself, Autumn, play with your tits,” he rasps out, and I hesitate. It’s not that I’ve never touched myself before, the pink vibrator an indication that I have. I’ve just never done it in front of someone else.
Jesus, it’s a wonder how I write erotic novels.
“Go on, baby, it’ll make me even harder watching you.”
I start tugging on my nipples, my lips parting, my breathing heavier as he continues sucking and fingering my pussy. His eyes never stray from mine, it’s hot and intimate, and all kinds of sexy watching him go down on me. Moans stream from my lips and I know I’m close. “Hunter,” I breathe out, “God, I’m gonna… come.”
He speeds up, staring at me intently as I fall over the edge, screaming his name, my body bucking, sex pulsating around his fingers. Instead of stopping, he continues, lapping at me lightly, letting me ride out the rest of my orgasm until my breathing finally slows and I come back do
wn to earth.
Inching up the bed, he hovers over me, his weight on his elbows. He kisses me, my taste all over his lips and tongue, rousing me to no end. “I can’t get enough of your pussy,” he whispers against my lips, his breathing ragged as he rubs his cock against my belly. “I need to be inside you. Do you want me to fuck you, Autumn?”
“Yes, please,” I beg, slightly embarrassed at how badly I want him. My whole body is screaming it and I need to follow suit with my mouth. “I want you to fuck me. I need you to fuck me, Hunter.”
With a chaste kiss, he climbs off the bed to retrieve his wallet from the table. He removes the condom but doesn’t put it on. Instead, he drops it on the bed and crawls over me, his thickly veined cock demanding my attention. Leaning up on his knees, his hand goes to his erection, stroking it from base to tip. The sight of him touching himself is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen; lips parted, muscles stretched tight, breathing altered. My own breaths come faster, chest heaving.
“Do you like watching me, Autumn? Do you see how hard I am? I’m this hard for you,” he breathes out, continuing to grope his shaft, and I shiver, knowing he’s going to be inside of me.
“Hunter,” I moan, my hands reaching for him, “I need you inside me… now.”
He grabs the condom, quickly tearing it open and rolling it over his large, throbbing cock. He positions himself above me, desire swimming in his eyes. It’s empowering, knowing how much he wants me.
“So how do you like to be fucked, Autumn? Slow and gentle, or fast and rough? Because I want you to remember this, remember me. I want this to be good for you.”
“All of the above.”
He smiles before slowly easing the tip of his cock in, pulling back, then gliding in deeper. He’s large, but the feeling of him filling me is making my toes curl. I wrap my legs around him as he continues thrusting into me, groaning, a sheen of perspiration building on his forehead. The smell of sweat and sex infuses the air around us. “Christ, you feel so fucking good, Autumn. So fucking good,” he mumbles, as my pussy tightens around him, my legs urging him deeper.
He lowers his head to take my nipple in his mouth, sucking and swirling it with his tongue until the tip hardens and I cry out.
“Aaaah, you’re going to make me come.”
“Oh, baby, I’m going to make you come over and over again,” he growls, rocking into me at a faster pace, his face flushed, muscles corded tight.
“Fuck me harder,” I shout, my voice unrecognizable, all my inhibitions flying out the window, leaving me to wonder just who the hell I am.
Hunter responds instantly, pounding into me furiously as sweat continues to drip from our bodies. My limbs begin to tremble, fingernails digging into his back, legs hugging him to me.
“Hunter….” His name falls from my lips as my release moves through me, chills running up and down my spine, heart booming inside my chest. I can feel his muscles tensing; see the determination on his face as he continues to drive into me, his cock relentless, his breathing labored.
“Autumn,” he groans, as he empties himself inside of me. “Autumn,” he murmurs again, my name rolling off his tongue as he drops his head onto my chest, his nose running over my nipple, lips finding the hollow of my neck.
After he catches his breath, he shifts so he’s lying next to me, removing the condom, tying it in a knot, and throwing it in the trash bin. Drawing me forward without words, he places a kiss to my forehead before swinging his legs over the bed and heading to the bathroom. I can’t help but admire his ass as he walks away. It’s perfect.
A minute later, he comes back with a warm washcloth. “Let me clean you up, sweetheart,” he says thoughtfully, and again, the gesture feels too intimate, so I back away.
“I can do it,” I reply, squeezing my legs together, sounding like a child.
“Autumn,” he reprimands, “open your legs for me. It shouldn’t be too hard to do.” He grins, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and I bite back a smile, acquiescing to his demand. With gentle hands, he glides the washcloth over me, but I’m careful to avoid his gaze. I feel transparent when he looks at me and I don’t like it. I don’t want to be an open book.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I announce quickly, before scooting off the bed. When I stand up, dizziness overtakes me and I grab the side of my head.
“Autumn? Are you all right?” His voice suddenly sounds very far away, my knees giving out on me as I collapse to the ground. “Autumn!”
The next thing I know, a cold washcloth is being pressed to my forehead, my lids blinking open to see his brow dipping down in concern.
“I need to get you dressed. I’m going to call a doctor.”
“No,” I argue, pushing myself up so my back is slumped against the bed. “I’m fine. I’m just hungry, I think.”
“You think?” he admonishes. “You passed out, Autumn. When was the last time you had anything to eat?”
I grab my lip with my teeth, willing my mind to work. “Before I left New York, well, except for the crackers on the train.”
He tilts his head sideways, scolding me, “You need to eat. I’m going down to get you some food.” Without warning, he scoops me up under my legs, laying me gently on the bed before snatching his boxers from the carpet.
“Wait, why don’t we just order room service? It’ll be easier.”
“Well, whatever is quicker. You need to eat.” He shakes his head, and then plucks the menu from the side table. “Here,” he urges, handing it to me, “take a look and tell me what you want.”
“I’ll just take one of everything,” I joke, but he doesn’t laugh. Instead, he picks up the phone and dials, narrowing his eyes at me.
“Yes, hi, we’re in room—” he looks to me and I mouth the numbers “—four-twenty-six and we want to order room service. Yes, we’ll have two burgers, two orders of French fries, two Caesar salads, fresh strawberries, one piece of Snickers pie, and….” He puts his hand over the receiver. “Do you like apple pie?” I nod my head and he orders a slice of that, too. “Great, thanks.”
“I said I was hungry. I didn’t say I hadn’t eaten in a month,” I joke, and he reluctantly breaks out into a grin. “It’s okay, you can smile. I’m not dying.”
“Not funny,” he responds, firing an evil glare my way. He jumps on the bed, grabbing a pillow and placing it behind his back, lacing his hands on top of his head. “So, Autumn Winters, tell me how you came to write erotic romance novels.” His brow rises. “No pun.”
“Don’t give up your day job,” I tease, and he laughs. “Well, it’s not a very exciting story.” I cross my legs at the ankles, hands fumbling in my lap, when it occurs to me that I’m still naked. I wrap my arms around myself but Hunter immediately reaches out and removes them from my chest, placing his hand over mine.
“Don’t cover up. I like looking at you,” he reveals, and a tinge of pink lights my face as he peruses my body. He gives my hand a little squeeze. “Go on, you were saying?”
“Oh, well, I grew up in Wisconsin, attended Catholic school from a very young age.” I shrug, letting out a loud sigh. “My parents were very strict, and I emphasize the very, it was impossible to break out. So, I guess this is my way of breaking out.”
“I see, so repressed catholic girl turned erotic romance author,” he comments, “makes for a good story.”
“I suppose. I’m certain the nuns would get a kick out of it.” I slant my body in his direction, leaning my arm against the pillow. “So, what’s with the Humphrey Bogart fascination?” I’m curious, mostly because I can’t picture him as an old movie buff.
“Ah, yes.” He smiles, a hint of nostalgia warming his face. “My dad used to love watching old movies and he roped me in, so after a while it just kind of became something we did together. He secretly had this thing for Ingrid Bergman. Not that I could blame him.” He straightens his posture, one side of his lip curved. “Here’s looking at you, kid.”
“Hey, that’s a pretty good impr
ession.”
“I know,” he retorts, clucking his tongue on a wink. “I’ve been honing it for years. What about you?”
“Hmph. I can’t really do any impressions, but… I can sing a bit. I took vocal lessons and was in choir all through school. I won a competition once, too.”
“All right. Let’s hear something.” He pivots so he’s sitting cross-legged in front of me.
“I don’t know. It’s kind of embarrassing.”
“Oh, come on.” He looks over his shoulder then back to me. “It’s just the two of us here.”
“Okay.” I roll my shoulders and relax my neck like we used to do in voice class. “Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are, up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky….”
His eyebrows curve, a tentative smile building on his lips. I think I’ve shocked him. “Wow. You managed to do a jazzy rendition of ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.’ I’m very impressed.”
“Thanks. A couple of friends growing up had a small band they put together in high school and they wanted me to be the lead singer, but,” I scowl, my parents an unwelcome intrusion into my mind, “my mom and dad were completely against it. Anyway,” I add, brushing it off, “now I just sing for fun. Writing and singing, those are my things. So what about you? What do you do?”
He hesitates, as if he actually has to try to remember. It strikes me as odd. “I’m… a developer for a software company. Nothing too exciting,” he remarks, looking off into the distance. “It’s pretty boring stuff.”
I can instantly tell this isn’t a subject he’s too interested in talking about, so I drop it.
Chapter Four
~Hunter~
I’m a liar.
Let me rephrase that. I’ve become a liar. I wasn’t always one, but when you have issues trusting women to begin with, and can’t determine whether someone is interested in you or your money, you lie. Or at least, I lie.
