by Liz Lorde
There were a good number of people out and about today. Couples and plenty of college aged students, a few older lovers that could be seen holding hands on a bench. It made my heart swell to see such love, and it made me hurt to know I’d never have it. I spent the better part of an hour out in the sweltering sun looking for that man. Beneath the burning blue, with soldiers of white that swept across the sky, which hung so joyously still. I could smell the fresh tones of nature, could breathe in the scent of fresh cut grass and the neighboring wood of pines.
But without finding Hunter, the air could only reek of disappointment and failure.
I was ready to give in. Ready to give up.
Some red Frisbee made its way over to me and a man called out to me, “Hey there,” the man said in a delighted tone; the man himself wore a red shirt, likely a college student. Some distance apart from the Red Shirt, was his friend – decidedly less attractive, in a white shirt.
I picked up the Frisbee between my fingers and looked over to Red Shirt. “You’ve got a good arm,” I said, crouching at a slight angle and winding my arm back, cocking my wrist and flinging the disk to Red Shirt with some degree of finesse.
Red Shirt jumped high into the air and caught it, his cleats landing back onto the grass. He walked over to me, along with his buddy White Shirt. “Thanks,” Red Shirt said, eying me up and down, “you’ve got a great body.”
I snorted, “Sorry but my panties don’t drop that easily.”
White Shirt snickered and Red Shirt fiddled with the Frisbee, “Hey I just call ‘em like I see ‘em.”
“Fair enough,” I replied. The Red Shirt was good looking, don’t get me wrong – but he was a boy compared to the men that I was hanging out with last night. I was rightfully pissed that I couldn’t find Hunter, and I cared even less for the guessing game that he was having me play. At this point my hair was getting damp with sweat, and I was starting to feel exhausted from the heat.
“So what’re you doing out here?” Red shirt asked, “just enjoying the sun?”
“I guess I ended up doing that yeah,” I said, “I was looking for someone, but I’m getting tired of that now,” I shrugged.
“Well hey if you want in on this,” he waved the Frisbee around in a gesture, “you’re welcome to it.”
“Yeah,” the White Shirt commented.
I smiled politely for the two, “I guess I could play, seeing as I’m already here and sweating my ass off.”
“Ehy, that’s the spirit,” Red Shirt proclaimed.
“Jessica!” I heard a voice call out behind me, from afar. Speak of the devil.
I turned around to see Hunter, not dressed in his club leathers, but instead in black and green Xersion basketball shorts. To my utter delight, my inner self doing a happy jig, he was shirtless. His body was slick and glistening with sweat, giving him a sexy sort of sheen. He approached me with a bright smile on his face – his cute dimples showing. He had a light smattering of chest hair that worked its way lazily down to his navel.
His chiseled like a mighty rock chest was riddled with various colorful tattoos, some of demons and fire, others of ornate names and motorcycles.
There was one tattoo that went down the center of his rippled body, a sprawling dragon that breathed black fire all the way down to his waist; I could imagine that it went beyond that, and down to his no doubt glorious Adonis belt.
It seemed strangely familiar.
Hunter closed the distance between us, invading my space and looking between me and the two other men. It was subtle, but it was definitely there - the prick had certainly shown up at the perfect moment for himself. Maybe it was his plan all along. He cinched an arm around my waist and pinioned me against his person; I could smell the scent of him, all earth and salt and strangely attractive musk.
Hunter raised his chin at the men, “You boys look a little lost,” he said in that cold, powerful voice of his, “what’s up?”
“Nah man,” Red Shirt replied, “we were just seeing if the girl here wanted in on our game You know her?”
Hunter removed his strong arm from my waist and stepped a foot closer to the two men, putting his hands on his hips in a relaxed, but dominating kind of manner. “I do,” he said coolly, “in fact, we’re about to have a private conversation,” Hunter looked off into the distance and to his right, “why don’t you boys go play over there. If she still wants to join you, she’ll come over after we’re done.”
White Shirt looked like a frightened lamb, while Red Shirt himself looked agitated as all hell.
Meanwhile I stood there with inexpiable rivulets of joy running through my stomach. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that these boys were arguing over me.
“Don’t be such a dick,” Red Shirt growled, “I ain’t no boy, and I don’t see any ring on that finger. Maybe let the lady decide for herself?”
Hunter straightened his posture, his magnificently hard and sweat glistening muscles rolling along with him. “I’ve already decided for her,” he shot a fierce look at my face, and I felt my stomach tighten. Who was he to speak for me? He looked back over at the two men, “I know what she wants, and a hundred of you aimless, chain-smoking, stoner losers couldn’t measure up on your best damn day,” Hunter’s jaw jumped, his Adam’s apple bobbing, “move along,” he snarled, “now.”
The White Shirt whispered something to his friend, and the two slunk away like helpless puppies. Red Shirt mumbling ‘whatever, man’.
I crossed my arms over my chest, ignoring the urge to bite down on my lip. In my head, I imagined myself tackling the hunkalicious man, dressed up as an Amazonian princess and riding him while people watched beautifully mortified.
So much for keeping my fantasies under control. “So nice of you to show up and scare those nice boys away, I’m sure you could learn a thing or two from them, if you weren’t such a stubborn ass,” the sass in me was dripping from my tongue now.
Hunter ran a hand through his wet hair, taking in a series of deep breaths. “Yeah, well, here I am,” he exhaled a hard breath, chuckling. “‘Sides, you didn’t really want to spend time with those kids, did you?” His wondrous blue eyes cut right through me, and he moved in closer, like a king in his jungle of sun and grass, hunting his prey. “They wouldn’t know how to handle a woman like yourself.”
“And you would?”
“Wouldn’t you like to find out,” the man said coy.
I turned my head the other way, “I’m not keen on guys who play games.”
“You showed up,” he husked, stepping closer once again, so that he was nearly touching me now. “That means something.”
“You were the jerk that didn’t tell me when to be here!” I snapped, feeling the anger sing through my bones, “you know how long I trekked these very under equipped for serious walking legs across this damn place?” My brows furrowed, and I imagined myself looking something like an owl. “It’s like, a hundred degree’s hotter than Satan’s left nut and I’m expected to find you out in this hellhole?”
Hunter smirked and I found myself getting even angrier.
“What?” I asked, “what is so damn amusing that you have to, that you have to do that,” I announce, pointing with my chin at his facetious smile.
“I should make you upset more often,” Hunter remarked, “it does wonders for your chest, seeing as how you heave them out for me.”
“I’m not heaving shit out for you,” I insisted and suddenly became very self-conscious of what I was doing and what I was wearing.
“Look, I just wanted to make sure you were the real deal – that’s all.”
“This real enough for you?” I shoved the man at his hard chest, sending him fumbling back a half step. I promptly wiped the sweat from my hands.
“You know for such a little thing you pack quite a punch, Jessica.”
I did a jack-in-the-box motion and unwound my middle finger for him, giving him a crooked smile and turning on my heel, starting to walk away.
“Whoa there,” Hunter shot his hand out to catch mine, pulling me back to him easily, “what’s the rush?”
I looked up at the man as he brought me within an inch of his person, fluttering of joy coursing through me. “Hey,” I whined, “you smell disgusting, let me go!” I secretly didn’t mind his smell that much, liked it even.
“Going somewhere? Hmn?” He loosened his grip on me. He was playing with me, toying with me. I squirmed against him. “Settle down or I’ll use you as my sweat rag.”
“Like hell you will,” I snorted derisively, “don’t…don’t get your gross man sweat all over me.”
“Well come on then,” Hunter insisted, taking me by the hand and leading me through the park, “I’m still with a client, so I’ve got to finish up with him real quick – then we’ll see what you can do.”
“What I can do?” I didn’t like the sound of that.
Hunter only grinned devilishly.
After a short trek, we reached a lone, great Laurel Oak tree that casted a swallowing swath of shade beneath its grace. It stood as some behemoth, ancient looking thing; otherworldly in its size compared to its far and away kin. Its canopy of lush green stretched upwards and outwards dozens of feet, as though it were hoping one day the branches themselves might dance with the clouds. I let out a sigh of relief as I stood beneath the comforting shade, finally getting a good reprieve from the punishing light.
Hunter let go of my hand and called out to the man on the other side of the great tree, whose back was turned to me – he was partially obscured from my vision, but the familiarity of his body hung in the air, caressing me with burning thoughts.
The Obscured Man spun on his heel, his arms folded against his chest with an impatient, agitated look on his face.
Pinpricks of fear skittered across my skin like spiders searching; my beating heart lurched awkwardly into my throat and rooted itself there, the muscles of my body betraying me next – threatening to tighten up and become next to useless.
It’s my god damn ex.
Chapter 8
“What’s wrong?” Hunter asked, his brow rising in question.
I looked over to Hunter and found my stomach doing gymnastics. The tightness in my throat was becoming difficult to withstand.
Say something. Anything. I could only keep my eyes locked on the blue mat that my ex was standing on.
In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be struck down and washed away like ash in the wind, to save myself from the embarrassment; to pluck myself from the shame and the guilt and the horrible, clutching fear.
“Jessica?” He asked, as Jerry stood there wooden and stiff and drinking me in with those cockroach brown eyes that I loathed.
“What?” I asked, there was harshness to my tone.
“…Are you alright?” Not even remotely.
“Yes,” I replied curtly, shifting my look between the two men, “why wouldn’t I be?” He can’t know, he can’t find out - nobody can know.
“You just seem, I don’t know—”
“I said I’m fine,” fire ran freely through my veins and as much as I couldn’t stand the water I felt like now more than ever, the urge to scrub my skin clean – the maddening urge to cleanse myself of the filth that I had to endure, just by being near Jerry. I shot him a cold look, not caring for what Hunter made of it, “why don’t you finish up with your client, and I’ll go wait over there,” I said through gritted teeth and motioned towards a canopied concrete square; it had a green table with benches flanked on either side of it.
Hunter shook his head, “No, no,” he said, “Mr. Stanopolis here,” god even his last name sent shivers of repulsion through me. I had to look away, “was about to be on his way, we’ll cut it short and pick up the same time next Tuesday. Sound good?”
Jerry swept a hand through what remained of his receding brown hair, “Yeah,” there was something shaky and off in his voice, “that works for me, thanks again S.” Jerry walked by me then, giving me a cursory look over that lasted nothing more than a second. He seemed afraid, nervous even, to be looking at me.
I watched the man walk away towards the parking lot, his white t-shirt drenched with sweat and his long grey basketball shorts clinging to his pasty, pathetic skin.
I craned my head to look at Hunter, “Did he just call you S?”
“It’s my last name.”
“That’s a pretty bland last name.”
“I like to call my clients by their last name,” Hunter shrugged, his corded muscles rolling along with him, “he just likes to call me S – as in Sin.”
“S I N? You’re kidding, right?”
“S y n n,” he explained, “I’m not gonna get my hopes up and presume you’ll give me your last name. That would be just too much.”
“You’re very perceptive, Hunter Synn.”
He flashed the white of his teeth, “And you’re about to be hilariously sore.”
“Uh?” Whatever he meant by that, I wanted absolutely zero part in it. Mostly…
Hunter sauntered over beside the blue mat that was lying across the grass. He dropped to the floor and took up a push-up position, his deliciously exquisite body on display for me; his hard ass popped up in the air at an angle. “You’re gonna do push-ups with me.”
“Oh like hell I am,” I crossed my arms together as Hunter began exercising, slowly dropping and rising from the ground, his muscles tightening with his every exertion.
“Don’t be a stick in the mud,” he grunted, pushing out a breath, “you’ve got the best ass I’ve never had the pleasure of seeing naked,” he announced boldly, threading an arrow through my heart, “but you gotta take care of number one. Just because perfection isn’t reachable, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t pursue.”
“Sounds like a lot of work,” I padded closer to the man, my eyes keenly raking over his body, spying numerous looks at his hind end. I had to remind myself not to drool.
“It is,” Hunter grunted, doing another set, the sweat dripping down from his chin. He paused on the return dip, tilting his head to look at me, “but there’s beauty in working together. Plus I want to see your body in action,” he confessed, his piercing blue eyes raking over me.
I looked down at the blue mat with disdain. That man was using that thing. There was no way that I would use it too. I picked it up and tossed it closer to the great tree, and then planted myself down, forcing my lips into the corner of my mouth, “I’ll do a few, but only because I’m already here and I already look like I’ve spent the past hour being body productive.”
Hunter smiled, giving me another look at those dimples, “Great.”
“There’s beauty in suffering together, I’d say,” I ruminated on what the man had mentioned, dipping down to the ground and pushing myself back up.
Frack. I really wasn’t in the best of shape. My hair spilled down and past my eyes, annoying the crap out of me.
“There you go,” Hunter commented, “get it girl.”
I laughed, “Shut up,” I managed to do another.
“Oh yeah,” Hunter slowly pumped up and down, going by my pace now - which was approximately as fast as a turtle which had just snacked on a fat stack of pancakes down at IHOP. “Beast another one out, firecracker.”
I did another, my muscles already starting to become sore from the, apparently, humongous effort, “Anyone ever tell you how annoying you are?” I found a smile walking along the lines of my face, and a fluttering of happiness running through me.
Hunter scoffed, “Only every day. If you want to punch me, sweetheart, you’d best take a number - cause it’s a hell of a long line.”
“Somehow, I don’t doubt that.”
“Very perceptive, Jess, very perceptive.”
“Can you, like,” I struggled to do another one, making an overly-girlish grunt / squee kind of noise - I prided myself on being feminine, but only just so. Now I just felt like a wimp. “Not steal my lines? Do you have no originality what-so-ever?”
&nb
sp; “C’mon,” he encourage, “one more. Give me one more.”
“I’m giving!” I replied, feeling the sweat begin to form along my body - my eyes still feasting on the radiant hunk of man that was beside me. Just being next to him was a sort of beautifully suffocating experience all its own. Hunter had this…presence to him. This aura that pulled me towards him, this dark, gravitational come hither that seduced every fiber of my being.
I wanted to punch him. I wanted to kiss him, and lick him and bite him.
I needed to fuck him.
My core tightened with a delightful, torturous lust.
“Alright,” he announced, “you can stop,” Hunter went to his feet, his calves tensing up; he folded his arms over his chest.
I followed his movements in kind, trying to spy some glances at the man’s nether most regions. There was a warm, humming sensation kissing between my legs - a lewd wetness pooling at the base of my cotton panties.
“You know how to squat?”
“Huh?” I asked distracted. I wouldn’t know how to get anything done if he was hovering over my writing desk at the office, let alone how I’d make it in if he were ever in my bed. “Uh, no? I didn’t come equipped with that exact inclination.”
Hunter looked at me funny then, “Okay,” he said with a lightheartedness to his raw sex like voice; it was like I was getting personally groomed for body fitness by Vin Diesel - and not for nothing or anything, but this one had hair. He stepped closer to me then, that king of the jungle, his eyes locked on me - having to look downward at me because of the height difference.
I stood there half helplessly enthralled, half afraid - the man was built like a house. If he ever knew what I was tasked to do, it would without a doubt be the end of me.
Hunter padded past me, his broad shoulders escaping my view. He then slunk to my rear, getting in close behind me. I could feel the smoldering heat coming off of him as it clung to my body, a cold shiver of ecstasy trilling up my spine effortlessly. “Here,” he said in a low voice, placing his powerful hands on my hips and straightening my form.
