by Jaye Ripley
“Holy Hell. You look gorgeous.” As much as I’ve been staring at him, his eyes have roamed up and down my body several times.
I take the champagne from him and walk into the room, brushing past him with my hip. The king-sized bed fills up a lot of the space, covered in a large, fluffy comforter and millions of pillows. There’s a small sitting area with a sofa that matches the colors of the comforter. The room’s large, but still a little stifling for what its purpose is for.
A sliding glass door opens onto a small balcony that overlooks the boardwalk and beach. At this floor level, the wind blows warm, fanning my hair around my face. The sun hangs close to the water, its hues of orange and pink streaking the sky. People walk the edge of the waves. Seagulls fly overhead. Everything is perfect for a romantic night. Sadness squeezes my stomach and taints the beauty surrounding me.
I feel him before he walks up behind me. His body presses into my back, and brushes hair away from my neck, giving him access. He plants small kisses up and down my sensitive skin. Shivers run down my spine, chasing away my melancholy moment.
“You look absolutely beautiful tonight.” His free hand splays across my hip.
I sigh and take a small sip of the cold champagne. “This is a great room, Hunter.” If we have to say goodbye, at least he picked an impressive place to do it.
We stand still, listening to the ambient noises and the crash of waves. The heaviness of his leaving weighs on both of us. He’d thought that if we really made it an event, then maybe some of the misery might be dampened. But I feel as if I’ve dressed up for a funeral for something that’s barely had a chance to exist.
He takes the glass from my hand and puts both of them down on a nearby table. Facing me, he draws me in close. His hand cups my chin. “Hey. We’ve got all night.”
Instead of kissing him, I preserve my lip-gloss and my hurting heart, and place my head on his shoulders. If he kisses me, it’ll unlock the closet I’ve stuffed all my emotions in. And I hate crying. I refuse to cry tonight.
He rocks me back and forth as if we’re dancing, the waves our soundtrack. For a second, my eyes close, and I allow myself to pretend that I’ll get to do this whenever I want, as often as I want.
“Can’t believe I’m saying this, but we’ve got reservations downstairs at Catch in 15 minutes.”
“Can’t we order room service and stay here?” I murmur into his chest.
His chuckle rumbles under my ear through his chest. “If I don’t get you out of this room soon, I’m not going to be able to stop myself from getting you in bed. And I want to enjoy all of you, including when you’re dressed, as long as possible.”
I sigh and back away. Picking up my champagne, I down it fast. “Then I’d better make a last trip to the restroom.”
When I come out, he waits for me, phone in his hand. He types something and puts it in his suit pocket. “Come here.”
Taking his hand, he spins me around to face the room mirror.
“Look how spectacular you are right now.”
His hand travels from the back of my neck down my curves, brushing past the edge of my breast and over my hip. He rubs me all the way down my body to the bottom of my dress.
Eyes wide, he checks with his fingers again. “Holy Hell! Are you wearing…?” Both his hands move to my hem and lift it up to reveal the garter and stockings. He fingers the top of the silk and follows the path of the strap up my thigh. My breath catches from the light contact alone.
He licks his lips. “I’m going to have to send Bethany the highest quality of chocolate for this.”
“Hey, she just picked it out. I’m the one wearing it.” My hand reaches behind me to run my fingers through his hair. “Seriously, you can get a more detailed look if we stay here.” My hips sway to grind my ass against his front, his hard cock my reward.
He growls, and his fingers travel to the steaming core between my legs. I step one of my long legs wider, giving him access. One of his fingers strokes the length of me. I lean back into his chest with a moan.
“Fuck, you’re so wet for me.”
“You could make me your meal.” Desperation stirs my impatience.
He shakes his head, but doesn’t take his eyes off his hands on me reflected in the mirror. “No time. If I eat you, I need time.” He shifts my underwear out of the way and dips a finger inside of me. My knees buckle, but he holds me up.
“Baby, I can’t resist, but you need to be fast. Put your hands on the mirror because I’m going to need both of mine.”
I obey, and he lifts my dress up until it bunches around my waist. With a quick pull, he rips off the black and red silk and lace panties. He shoves two fingers inside me and circles my clit with his other hand. His fingers move in and out with purpose, pressing in as far as possible and hitting my g-spot.
“Fuck. Hunter,” I cry out.
“Open your eyes. I want you to watch how fucking stunning you are when you come.” He bites my earlobe. “Hurry up, Mel.”
He presses on my clit, and my muscles clamp down on his fingers. He works me to the edge of a climax, making it difficult to keep my eyes open. The sexy woman in the mirror calls out her man’s name, telling him she’s going to come. Her cheeks flush pink, and her eyes flash with lust. Her chest heaves with halting breaths.
“That’s it. Come on, Mel. Give it to me. Come now.”
Hunter’s growl and demand do the trick. As my orgasm breaks in waves, my body shakes. The woman in the mirror screams of pure, unadulterated sex. It looks fucking fantastic on her.
He pants in my ear, pressing his erection into me. Once I regain my balance, I turn around and cup him through his pants.
“Your turn?” My hand strokes his hard length.
He takes his fingers and sucks them clean of my juices. Gripping my hand in his, he kisses my palm. “No,” he sighs. “Go take care of yourself. We’re now down to 5 minutes. I’ll simply enjoy the anticipation of knowing you’re mine all night.”
In the bathroom, I reapply my lip-gloss after doing some necessary clean up. When I emerge, Hunter offers me his arm. A look mixed of pride and satisfaction covers his face.
“Hey, cocky man. Remember, you’re the one that did this to yourself.” My arm links through his.
He opens the door for us. “What do you mean?”
We walk down the hall to the elevator. He presses the button, and waits for me to answer.
When the elevator arrives and the doors slide open, I step in on my own, turning to smirk at him.
“You’re going to have to eat dinner tonight knowing that I’m sitting across from you looking thoroughly sated and being completely panties-free.”
The doors start to close with him standing in the hallway, and he stops them with his hand at the last second. He glimpses me up and down with an open mouth, and steps in next to me. The doors close, and a vague image of the two of us standing next to each other reflects off the shiny metal.
“Fuck. Me.”
28
Hunter
I think I hate myself. She’s right. I made this hell I’m living in. We’re not even past appetizers, and my cock can’t stop reminding me that her bare pussy sits right across from me. My fingers rub my lips under my nose, and I can fucking smell her on them. Damn, she was right. We should have stayed upstairs so I could feast on her.
The phone in my suit pocket vibrates. It’s been blowing up for days, but I’ve done my best to hide it from her. Every single one of the guys texts me multiple times. The label has put pressure on them, and they need me to get there. I’ve been doing what I can to stall.
Slipping the phone back in my pocket, I take the chance to memorize as much as I can about how she looks right now. Her cheeks glow rosy from her recent pleasure brought to her courtesy of my own hands. Something’s different about her eyes, allowing them to stand out more, shine brighter. Her dark hair cascades down her shoulders, drawing my gaze to her fleshy mounds and curves.
A small lau
gh interrupts my sexual observations. My eyes pop up to hers. I’ve missed something.
“What did you ask?”
Mel smiles, the corners of her mouth turned up. “How are the guys settling in to your new place?”
“I thought we weren’t going to talk about Nashville.” Whenever I’d brought up the move in the past few days, she’d get pissed. So we stopped talking about it.
“Mac says they’ve all picked out their rooms and unpacked what they brought with them. So far, they’ve let him work with the label’s people to order other furniture. Not that any of them care that much. Although EJ insisted we have a pool table. Guess he likes getting his ass whooped by all of us.”
She takes a bite of her salad. “And what else?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been texting on your phone when you think I’m not looking. Something must be up. You wouldn’t bother with it if it weren’t important. Spill, Cowboy.”
I pick at the toppings to my bruschetta. “Sounds like the label’s anxious for us to write some new material and get into the studio as quickly as possible. I was hoping that we could debut some of our existing songs at first. You know, ease into things.”
Mel’s eyes narrow in concentration. “So that means you’re gonna have to hit the ground running once you’re there.”
Good, she gets a part of it. But she doesn’t guess that they’ve wanted me there for days. “Mm-hmm. In fact, Mac and I have already been working on lyrics back and forth. They’re not screwing around. Our A&R rep made it quite clear that a lot rides on how fast we can produce a hit record.”
She swirls the wine in her glass and stares at it. Drinking some, she holds the glass in her hand. “If I’m understanding things, that means you’re not going to have a lot of time to spend on other activities.”
I shake my head. She gets that part of things. And it sucks telling her. But really, she should know what I’m headed into before she thinks that my lack of time for her doesn’t mean I don’t give a shit.
“What about ‘Wind Blows West’? Is that dead in the water?”
Even if all the executives at every single one of the labels there told me to drop it, I wouldn’t stop working my plan for that song. Not until I get what I want.
“No, actually. It’s still in play. One of the few back catalogue pieces they’re considering letting us put on the new album.”
The waitress delivers our food to us and clears the plates from the first course. Mel ignores the piece of blackened ahi tuna on a bed of wilted greens as she holds my gaze. My nose fills with the aroma of a perfectly seared steak, but my stomach rolls from our conversation.
“We’re at a restaurant known for its seafood, and you pick steak.” She tries to let me off the hook. The piece of fish she flakes off with her fork never makes it to her mouth. “Jesus, Hunter. This is your career we’re talking about. You should already be there with them. Instead, you’re here with me because of some inane attempt to stay as long as possible. This is what I meant by not a good idea.”
Fuck, we’re here again. My blood pumps annoyance and anger through me. Haven’t I done enough to prove to her that I give enough of a shit about her that I’ll do anything? That I’ll try my best not to hurt her? Why, especially on this night, does she have to doubt what we have another fucking time?
I lean into the table and talk as low as I’m able to without making a scene. “If you even think about breaking things off right now, I swear I will throw you over my shoulder, carry you upstairs, and lock the door. Dammit, woman. When will you get it through your head that I love you?” The few heads that turn our way mock my failure at maintaining my composure.
She wipes her mouth on her napkin and stands up. Like a good gentleman, I do, too. My stomach tightens. “Where are you going?”
“I need a minute. And so do you. I’m going to the restroom.” She grabs her clutch. “I’ll be back,” she shoots at me over her shoulder as she stalks away.
Every damn male head turns in her direction as she disappears around the corner. More than one turn to his buddy to discuss how they would “hit that” I’m sure. Thanks to me, her bare pussy’s one good bend at the waist away from being seen. She’s pissed. And I’m a total dickhead.
Did I just tell her the most important thing I wanted to say in the most romantic way tonight while yelling at her? We’re in this expensive restaurant downstairs from a fantastic room with a view. She couldn’t be more dazzling if she tried. That red dress will forever make me have to adjust myself every time I think about it.
Signaling for a nearby waiter, I slip him a fifty to box up our meal as fast as possible. By the time she returns looking refreshed but still angry, our food sits in containers in a bag.
“Let’s go back upstairs.” I leave no room to comment or argue.
The quiet ride in the elevator agitates me. She gets under my skin more than any other person on the planet. One second, she drives me crazy with her stubborn ways. The next second, she drives me insane with her body. And I keep coming back to her again and again. Now all I have to do is convince her that it’s what she wants, too.
It takes three tries for the damn card to open our hotel room. She pushes past me and stomps inside. I don’t know which one of us is more pissed off at this point.
The door closes behind me, and I toss the food on the top of a dresser. She paces the short space in the room, her hands on her hips. I shrug off my jacket, throwing it over a chair. My heart races from the adrenaline of anger mixed with regret and nerves. I just said I love her, and she’s pissed. At the same time, I just said I love her while arguing.
“Shit. I fucked up.” My hands rub my stubble.
She walks over to the sliding glass doors and looks out into the night on the other side of them.
“Mel, will you look at me please.”
She refuses to turn. Her arms drop from her hips, and her head bends forward. Shit, how bad have I fucked up?
“Mel,” I plead.
Her body turns, and in a few steps she crushes her lips to mine. Anger flavors the intensity, but so do lust and other emotions. Her fingers thread through my hair. Desire replaces regret. Her tongue plunges in my mouth, and she takes what she wants from me.
“Unzip my dress.” Her tone leaves no room for negotiations.
She pivots, and my fingers fumble with the zipper as my body presses against her. My mouth skims down her neck, biting and licking. I succeed in pulling down the zipper, but the dress doesn’t fall off. I pull and yank on it, but it doesn’t budge. Concentrating, I discover some red fabric caught in the teeth of the zipper. After a few seconds of tugging, it’s clear it won’t budge.
“Fuck.” My body can’t stand the frustration.
She looks at me over her shoulder. “Rip it off of me,” she growls.
My hands tear the fabric in shreds until it loosens enough to come off. It slides down her body onto the floor. She steps out of it and turns to face me. My God, my girl is breathtaking. Cheeks flushed from hunger. Breasts heaving in that magnificent corset. Her legs spread open far enough I can smell how wet she is. Legs for days in those stockings down to her heels. She’s a gorgeous goddess.
Her hands grasp my shirt and buttons fly. She pushes it off my shoulders and yanks it down my arms. Her fingernails scrape against my chest and abs. She captures one of my nipples in her mouth and sucks it in, biting down on it. I yell and pull her head off me by her hair.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
She unbuckles my belt, fumbles with the button, and pulls down my fly. Her hand dives into my pants and grasps my aching cock.
“What does it feel like? Feels like you want to fuck me.”
My eyes close as breath hitches through my teeth. “You’re playing a dangerous game. In about two seconds, I’m not going to be responsible for what happens.”
She bends down and licks me from my belly button to my chest. With her eyes lifted toward mine
, she bites me. Pain radiates from the area, and my cock twitches with excitement.
She steps back, her eyes still trained on me, and unhooks her corset hook by hook until she frees her round breasts. But she leaves the garter belt, stockings and heels on. Turning around, she places her hands on the edge of the bed, spreads her legs wide, and presents herself to me.
All of her is on display, pink and moist. My pants, shoes, and socks come off in record time. I grip my dick and stroke it to ease some of its aching need. One tiny neuron in my brain tries to convince me to slow down and talk. But Mel slides her hand between her legs and rubs her fingers up and down her folds, her juices glistening over them. She circles her clit and moans.
All reason disappears. My cock replaces her fingers. I guide it up and down her soaked slit until she coats me. Without warning, my hips surge, and I slam inside. She gasps and bites her lip as I grasp her hips to steady myself.
“Fuck, you’re so tight.”
“You’re so deep. How the hell are you so deep?” she moans.
I pull out to my tip and drive in fast and hard. The pace steadies with each stroke. She makes me crazy. Pulling me into her, then pushing me away. Telling me she’s my girlfriend, then saying I should worry about my career. She needs to know, to feel what she means to me. I’ll fuck her so hard that she’ll feel it even when I’m all the way in Nashville.
The friction of us taking our frustrations out on each other heightens the pleasure. Too soon, tingles rush down my spine. With the greatest effort I can exert, I hold still, buried to my root in her, her muscles gripping me with short quivers.
“Don’t stop. Harder. Fuck me harder.” One of her hands rubs between her legs. Her fingers grasp the base of my cock, and then drift across her folds holding me to press on her clit. Watching her do that breaks my control.
One more time, I pull out slow and thrust back in with force. Thoughts fly in my head to keep me from coming too fast. The look of the room. The uneaten dinner. The reason it’s uneaten. My total fuck up. The guys who drooled after her. The lustful thoughts in their heads about her body. Her lack of panties while she walked by the fuckers.
