by Gina Kincade
"You like that?" He teases her again with another flick of his thumb.
Her eyes shutter closed when she nods, and bites down hard on her lip. Her moans fill the apartment.
"Open your eyes, Bee," he orders, and she obeys without protest when he slides and curls a finger through her. "You're so tight. You're going to feel so fucking good around my cock."
His finger slides in and out of her. She mewls, but keeps her eyes openly staring at him. Watching the lust liquefying in her eyes makes him twitch. He wants, no, needs to be inside her, but first...
"I'm gonna taste you like you tasted me," he tells her, his tongue darting out.
Bee's hands grasp his arms when he starts moving down. "No. Please."
"It'll be good, I promise."
"No!"
He knits his eyebrows together and chuckles dryly. "No?" No one has ever said no to that.
"It's okay, Hunter. Just...do me, okay? Can you just do that?"
Just do that? "Yeah, if it's what you want." He can skip some things for now. He's also aching to feel her, to be buried deep inside her. "Where's the...?"
"Oh, yeah, I think you dropped it."
Hunter positions himself over her, leaning on one elbow, he feels around for the condom on the floor. When he finds it, he raises it like a trophy. She takes the packet and tears it open. Without hesitation she takes the rubber and reaches down, sheathing him.
"Done." He quietly chuckles at her choice of word, and the pride in her voice.
With an elbow propped beside her, he guides himself to her entrance. Her breathing quickens. He sucks in her bottom lip between his while he slices through her, carefully, one sweet inch at a time.
His head swims at the tightness and warmth enveloping him. He pauses just enough to give her time to adjust to his length and thickness. They both keep their eyes open, boldly staring at each other as he slides in and out of her. He stills for a second, brushes a hair off her forehead, and then pulls out. Bee gasps when without warning, he thrusts all the way back in, letting her inner muscles massage him.
He must be hurting her a bit, but he can't stop. If he doesn't move faster, he might explode before she does, and that has never happened before. And it won’t happen now. His hip tilts as he pulls out again.
"Hold on to something Blanche." He pants, determined to do a job well done.
Her hands choose to grasp his buttocks, forcing him back in. He moves faster and faster, maddeningly in and out of her. Her breathing is ragged. She mewls. She gasps and moans. And she tightens her squeeze. Hunter reaches forward above her head to hold on to the armrest of his couch, his hips continue to move in circles and deep thrusts.
"Oh my! Hunter! Oh my! Hunter! I'm...I'm..." Bee arches her back, her hips meeting his. Her muscles undulate inside, squeezing him more. She's coming, and coming hard. He pulls back until only the tip of his shaft is inside her, and then invades her harder, making her scream his name again and again, until he climaxes with her.
When he opens his eyes after possibly the strongest orgasm he's ever had, Bee is panting underneath him, her body trembling. He collapses on top of her, unaware that he has made it harder for her to breathe.
"Ahm...Hunter?" she could barely let the words out.
When he finally realizes what he's done, he pushes off with both hands. "Sorry." Hunter slowly pulls out of her, careful not to weigh down on her again. He kisses her swiftly on the lips, the nose and her forehead. "That was amazing. Don’t move. I'll be back."
Hunter straightens, only to stumble back a bit, with his ankles still encased in his jeans. He laughs with her, while they both work to pull it off him. Once he's free, he saunters to the bathroom.
In there, he discards the condom, and washes up. He doesn’t bother turning on the light because he refuses to see the guilt on his face. He takes a small washcloth and runs it under the hot water, then squeezes it. When he returns to the couch, Hunter finds Bee has tucked herself under a throw that was hanging over the back of the couch, fast asleep.
It isn't against his rulebook to let a woman stay, but only after several times of them dating. However, he can’t recall the last time he’s ever let that happen. He isn't a jerk who would throw a woman out either. Bee lets out a light snore when he slides a small pillow under her head. Under all that heavy makeup is a sweet, tender woman. He leaves the washcloth on the side table, and before he leaves her to slumber, Hunter pushes a wayward lock behind one ear, and caresses her cheek. When he stands, he tampers a deep desire to curl on the couch with her.
He’s not like that anymore. He reminds himself that Bee is just a distraction.
Chapter Four
Blanche feels a finger tickling her neck. Perry. He needs to know that it irritates her.
"Go away. I'm sleeping." She swats at the hand.
"Bee, wake up."
Wait a darn minute, that's not Perry. The voice is deeper, more gravelly, not whiney at all. Blanche opens her eyes to see Hunter leaning over her, dressed in a black button down shirt, with the two top buttons undone, and another sexy pair of dark jeans. He's so tall, and muscular, and sexy, and he’s just rocked her world.
The sunshine filters in the room. "Oh, hi," she says, sleep still marks her tone. "I fell asleep." She pulls the throw up to her neck.
Hunter gives her a half smile. "It's fine, but I have to go to work."
Blanche sits up, grasping the throw against her, covering her naked body. "Yeah, of course. I'll get out of your way. I just need to...get into my...clothes." Her words quiet down when she looks around. Apparently, Hunter is great in bed but he's one sloppy guy.
His apartment is spotted with junk. Pizza boxes, beer cans and bottles are strewn all over the floor, amongst possibly dirty clothes. And I thought my life's a mess.
"Yeah, I haven't had time to clean," he says, noticing her reaction. He pushes his hand over his short hair and rubs the beard that he has forgotten to shave.
"I didn't say anything. I do have to find my clothes though." Her mouth gapes when he lifts a torn black jersey fabric and a black lace fabric. What clearly used to be her shirt and her panties. "Right. That happened."
Hunter offers her another alternative. "You can wear this.” He hands her a t-shirt. “Unfortunately, I don't have a spare lace underwear lying around." One corner of his lips quirks into a smirk.
In the light of day, Hunter looks even more stressed, even though he's trying to make light of things, which is quite a surprise since he seemed rather gloomy last night. His eyes have dark circles under them, and he has worry lines on his forehead, between his brows and around his lips. But she thinks those add to his overall appeal.
She takes the blue shirt, surprised to see that it's a woman's size large top. No lace undies, huh? Blanche doubts it's true. He probably has a drawer full of them.
"Don't rush. Stay for a bit. I made coffee. Just lock up after you leave." He sits beside her feet. "Sorry I have to run out. The boss is away and I have to look after things while she's gone."
She? Why can't Blanche picture him working for a woman? Oh yes, because he's a giant of a man and he's intimidating.
"I'm gonna get dressed then go."
He stands to full height. She has to tilt her head to look up to him. "Great. Bye," he says a bit coldly, but he doesn’t move. He stays standing in front of her, crosses his arms over his chest then uncrosses them and let his hands hang on his sides.
What does she do next? Ask for his number? Offer her number, or Trisha's? Pull him in for a kiss? Or beg for a repeat of last night?
"Yeah, okay. Bye,” he says again. He leans in to press his lips on hers. An ache and the sweet soreness between her legs remind her of what he's capable of doing.
A spark in her mind startles her. She hasn't brushed her teeth. She pushes him away, causing him to look completely shocked.
"Morning breath," she says, covering her mouth.
A small smile tickles Hunter's lips. He removes her hand off her
mouth, then kisses her deeper, tongue and all. She's panting and wanting more when he stands upright and stares at her with his wild, lustful eyes.
"I guess I can be late for work." Hunter offers his hand, and as she takes it, he pulls her up to him, the blanket puddles on her feet, and he presses his impressive hard-on against her naked skin.
"Can I go to the bathroom first?" He nods and walks her toward the back of the apartment, while she slips the shirt over her torso—dodging the mess on the floor—and into his bedroom.
He points at an open door. "Through there. Hurry back." He has already unbuttoned his shirt.
Once in the safety of the warm, cozy bathroom, Blanche glances around. At least, the room is less of a pigsty than the living room—as is his bedroom—and it still smells of fresh soap and shower. She uses the facilities, and stands in front of the mirror, taking a wet washcloth and cleaning herself of the stickiness from the night before. The skin between her thighs is sensitive, and she shivers thinking of what is waiting for her on the other side of the door.
When she thinks she's clean enough, she rummages—quietly as a mouse—through Hunter's cabinet, finding a nearly empty box of extra large (no doubt about it) prophylactics, a toothbrush, toothpaste and floss. No way is she going to use his toothbrush, but she takes the floss and uses her finger to spread toothpaste in her mouth.
Staring at her reflection, she almost doesn't recognize herself. The smoky eye Trisha has applied makes her look like a half-crazed raccoon. Her carefully mussed hair from the night before is a nest on top of her head. Hunter must be desperate because she feels she's not up to par. She bundles toilet paper on her hand, wets it a bit and cleans off the mess on her face.
She wonders idly what Hunter would think of her true self. The one with the long hair, often slicked back and gathered in a neat bun or a braid, makeup applied professionally to make her seem like she's not wearing any and which highlights all her prominent features. And the true Blanche that doesn't have sex with strange men.
Blanche throws the blob of tissue and washes her hands. She runs her wet fingers over her hair. There's no hope for it. She can’t completely take off all the makeup. Hunter will either take her or leave her like that. Although he seems to have decided right at the get-go.
Before leaving the bathroom, she takes one of the few packets out of the box. When she enters the bedroom, her throat constricts and her chest heaves. The brightness of the sun inside the large bedroom highlights all of him.
Hunter is quite a sight.
Facing away from her, she studies the movements of his broad back, a V-shaped muscular torso tapering into his trimmed waist. Only half of his back is inked. The fluidity of his movements shows her that he is born to have that body, a gift of excellent genetics. He’s comfortable in it. Hunter gets that tone from real hard work, not from spending too much time in the gym, unlike Perry. Her ex-fiancé spent four hours at the gym, at least three hours staring at himself in the mirror, six hours in the office and the rest, cheating on her with a number of women.
She's glad to be rid of him.
Blanche wonders what Hunter does for a living. If they’re not in New York City, she would think that he works at a farm. How else would he have that gorgeous body?
As Blanche nears the bed, she notices the slight slump of Hunter's shoulders, and hears his heavy sighs. Sadness, brought on by loneliness. She’s familiar with it.
"Hunter?"
He looks at her over his shoulder, reaches a hand back to her, and pulls her into the bed. Whatever he was thinking of is now gone. Whatever her thoughts were have also been forgotten. All that matters once again is how they feel together, and how they can make each other feel needed, even just for a few lustful moments.
"HOLY COW, BLANCHE! Oh my god, you must tell me e-ver-y-thing!" Trisha gushes as soon as Blanche pops her head in the small kitchen.
"Leave her alone, Trish," Troy admonishes her.
Still in his pajamas, it's obvious that Troy slept over. Something he hasn't been able to do since Blanche came to crash on Trisha's couch in her tiny bachelor apartment.
Trisha's hands fly on her hips. "Whatever, Troy. I tell her everything we do."
"What?" Troy pauses, his coffee cup on his lips, his eyes moving from his girlfriend to Blanche.
"She does, I'm afraid. All the nitty-gritty shit," Blanche answers, taking the cup of coffee Trisha offers her.
Trisha pulls her eyebrow up. "Well, look at you! Not even nine yet and you're already swearing. Now, I'm really interested. You have to tell me why you're wearing that god-awful shirt." She points at the band shirt Blanche has on.
Blanche laughs wholeheartedly. Maybe all she needs is a good romp in the hay, or on a couch, and on a bed, and one more time against the wall. Great, mind-boggling, earth-shattering romps with a magic man. She joins her friends in the small kitchen, leaning against the countertop as she recalls the unforgettable moments of the previous night at the bar, but stopping at the point when she reached Hunter's apartment. She just cannot do that to Troy.
"Well, I need a shower," she announces after finishing off her coffee.
"I bet you do! Wait!" Trisha pulls her in a tight hug. "God, you smell like sex. I'm so happy for you. Now, go shower, you slut!" Trisha lets her go.
"Trish!" Troy chastises his girlfriend.
"What? Like it’s a bad thing? Oh, Blanchie, I almost forgot." Trisha turns around to take a note off the door of the fridge, and hands it to Blanche. "Someone called. They want to set up an interview with you. Here's the number."
Maybe Hunter is a magic man, or her luck is finally changing. Getting a job has been on top of her list, and she finally has an opportunity. She takes the note from Trisha, staring at it for a long time. When she looks up, her eyes are rimmed with tears. Trisha hugs her again as she silently recalls the first night she showed up at Trisha’s door.
"YOU'RE HERE! FINALLY!" Daisy, the spritely receptionist of Red Ink Studio greets him upon entering. Hunter's an hour late but he knows that he doesn't have clients until later in the afternoon.
"Did something happen when I was gone less than eight hours?" His voice drips with sarcasm.
Daisy rolls her eyes. "There's a message on voicemail for you, from Red."
"Red? Is she okay? Something wrong?"
Daisy purses her lips. "Get over it, Peters. She's with him now. Just go to a bar, pick up a girl and take her home...oh wait, you already did that." She points an accusatory finger at him.
"How'd you know?" His voice lowers in suspicion.
His colleague walks around the desk to stand in front of him, then pats his large shoulder. "I have eyes everywhere, buddy. There's nothing wrong with a little nooky. Now, pining for someone who's already taken is another story."
"Leave him alone, Daisy," Mel tells her co-worker when she walks in.
"Mel!" Hunter pulls Mel into a big bear hug. "You're back."
"I believe I'm the reason why Red called." Mel wraps her arms around him. "She called me yesterday from wherever she is. She said I can't work on a client yet, but I can help out with the apprentice. If it's okay with you, bossman."
Hunter smiles widely. Of course Red would remember when Mel returns home from rehab. And she would give Mel an opportunity to turn her life around too, without a thought. His chest constricts thinking of Red. And all the years he's wasted pining for her. Now, she has fallen for a man, and it isn't him.
No amount of lustful one-night stands can erase the thought of not being with Red, his best friend and the love of his life. No one else compares to the effervescent beauty. Her heart is pure. She is lovely, caring and nonjudgmental. He would say she’s smart but she ended up with a man who’s all wrong for her.
Still, no one can come close to Red Thorne. Not even someone as delectable and memorable as Bee. For a moment, he let himself admit that she is one distraction he wouldn’t mind having again. That single moment when she stepped out of the bathroom, just as he has been th
inking of his recent heartache, he thought he saw the same loneliness in her eyes. But they parted ways without letting the other know of any fundamental information, such as last names and phone numbers, about each other. It’s clear to Hunter that there’s a possibility that Bee has used him the same way as he has used her. To temporarily forget their inner, invisible pain.
Chapter Five
"Everything's fine here, Red. Just relax," Hunter hears Daisy say on the phone. He's found out that Wolfe Wainright, Billionaire tycoon and the asshole who stole Red from him, has taken her to Europe to propose to her. And she accepted.
Daisy’s right. He needs to move on, but how to go about it is completely unknown to him. He has returned to the bar every night for the rest of that week, drowning his misery. And deep down, hoping to see Bee again, although he will never admit it. She didn't strike him as a partier, a drinker or a one-night stand kind of girl. He knows this to be true regardless of how she acted around him. It would be a miracle to see her back at that bar again. If only he asked for her number, or even her last name.
"I'll pass you to him. Hold on." Daisy hands the receiver to Hunter.
The black item feels heavy in his trembling hand. He eyes Daisy, making sure she can't see what his nerves are doing to him.
"Peters?" He can hear Red's distant voice on the other line.
Daisy mutters, "Talk to her, idiot."
Hunter shakes his head, clearing his mind of cobwebs and desires. "Yeah," says in a gruff tone.
"Hey, how's it going?" With the lightness in her voice, he can tell Red is happy, ecstatic. "You holding down the fort there?"
"Yeah."
He can almost see the twinkle in her green eyes. "I can't thank you enough." She pauses. "I know things aren't ideal for you, but you have to know how much you mean to me."
