Authors: Lena Black
“You talked to her? You have her number?” he asks with a stunned look.
“Yes, I like her. She’s really nice and intelligent, and she hates Olivia, which is a plus in my book.”
“Since when do you hate Olivia? You used to worship the ground she walked on, lapping up every word that came out of her mouth.”
“Things have changed. Again, long story.”
“You used to tell me everything,” he mumbles to himself, agitated.
“I’m sorry. I have a lot on my mind I need to work out. I can tell you one thing, I’m not in denial about Nicholas anymore. I realized I have a lot of healing I still need to do. I was thinking about having a session with Dr. White.”
“That’s great, kid. You should talk to him. I’m sure he’ll have plenty to say on Hunt.”
“Why would I talk to him about Hunt?”
“I figured you would. You said he’s complicated. From what I’ve seen, you aren’t lying. Plus, you guys are moving quickly, and I think you should find out what Doc thinks about it.”
“You don’t know the half of it. We already said the L word, and he’s asked me to move-in. He’s even talking marriage.”
“Gabrielle.” He never calls me by my full name.
“I know. I’m just as nervous about it as you are, but I like the idea of sleeping with him, coming home to him, waking up to him. I want to be with him.”
“I would ask Dr. White before making any hasty decisions.”
I sigh. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I need to make an appointment ASAP. I’m giving Hunt my answer tomorrow.”
“Are you going to Olivia’s party tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow evening?”
“No, tomorrow morning.” He gives me a no-duh look. “Yes, tomorrow evening.”
“I didn’t know it was tomorrow. We hadn’t really talked about it.”
“You better go shopping because there’s a dress code and theme.”
“What is it?”
“It’s black and white, sexy but semiformal. The theme is carnal carnival or some crap like that.”
“Shit. I better ask Damian.”
“Yeah, probably…Is there anything else going on with you besides Mr. Boss Man?”
“Yeah, actually, I got a call from Walker.”
“Really? What did he want?” He only seems slightly fazed by Walker’s sudden reappearance.
“He invited me to a showing of his latest work. We’re getting together for lunch tomorrow to talk and catch up. Shoot the shit. He said he missed me.”
“How do you think Hunt will react to lunch with an ex?”
“I know where he stands on lunches with ex’s. I’m not living my life based on what he wants, at least when it comes to friends.”
“Walker was more than a friend. You dated for two years. That changes things.”
“Then you could say the same about us.”
“We are not you and him. We’ve something much deeper than that.”
“You’re right. We’re soul mates, two peas in a pod, thick as…”
He throws his hand into the air, halting me. “I get it. We’re close.”
“Anyway, I’m having lunch with him. Maybe you could come along to keep it casual.”
He laughs lazily.
“Oh yeah, he’ll be thrilled at the idea of you out to lunch with two exes.” He pauses. “I’m in.”
“I figured you would be. I’ll stop by your office before noon, and we’ll head down to the lobby together.”
“Cool. I’ll be waiting with bells on.”
“Please don’t. I don’t want any extra attention thrown my way.” I giggle.
“Yeah, I’ve seen the pictures and gossip online. How are you dealing?”
“I fucking hate it, but it comes with the territory, and I’m no stranger to it. I just need to lay low and try not bringing any focus onto myself.”
“I better get back to work. Do you need a ride home?”
“No, I’m good.”
“Ok. I’ll call you tonight.”
“I’ll answer tonight.” I smirk up at him.
“Hilarious. Love you, kid,” he says, heading out.
“Love you,” I call back.
A
t four thirty, while I’m hustling to get the final details of my day finished up, Hunt sends a text.
From:
Hunt
To
: Elle
CAN’T TAKE YOU HOME. EMERGENCY.
CALL WHEN POSSIBLE.
Received:
Thurs Jan 31, 2014 4:34 PM
He referred to me as an emergency yesterday in his office. I wonder whom the emergency is today. I hope it isn’t the succubus.
From:
Elle
To:
Hunt
OK. GOOD LUCK. TALK TO YOU LATER.
LOVE YOU, SLICK
Sent:
Thurs Jan 31, 2014 4:35 PM
I wait to hear back, but after fifteen minutes of silence, I head over to Chase’s office.
“Hey.”
He glimpses up from his work and shoots me a wary smile. “Hey.”
“Looks like I’ll need that ride after all. Is the invitation still open?”
“Of course. I’ll be ready in ten.”
“Great. I’ll be back then.”
I head back to my office and finish my work. At five, I arrive at his office, and he’s waiting for me outside.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Yep.”
I link my arm with his, and we head down to the main lobby. We stride out onto the sidewalk, and Chase whistles in the direction of the street.
“Nice fucking wheels,” he comments.
I look where he’s gawking and sitting in the street is Scarlett. Liam is standing beside her.
“Would you like me to introduce you?” I walk over to Liam, and he hands me the keys. “Chase Cahill, this is Liam Banks. Liam, Chase.” They shake hands, his eyes still plastered to the car. “Chase, meet Scarlett.”
“This is yours?”
“No, I’m just so pretty I can walk up to perfect strangers and they give me their car keys. What do you think genius?”
“Can we take her?”
“Why not.” I turn to Liam. “Will you bring Mr. Cahill’s car to my building, please? I would appreciate it.”
“I’m at your service. Anything you need, Gabrielle.”
“Hey! You did it,” I reply enthusiastically.
“Yes, but let’s keep it between you and me. When Mr. Hunt is around, we’ll stick with the other.”
“I’m going to talk to him about it. Thanks for the help. I guess you can leave the keys with the doorman and bring Scar back to Artemis.”
“No need. I have a ride back. You keep it in case you need it.”
I turn to Chase. “Toss me your car keys.” He chucks them, and Liam reaches in front of me, snagging them. “Where are you parked?” I call out to Chase.
“The employee parking structure,” he replies with his eyes still glued to my baby.
“It’s a black BMW,” I add.
“I won’t be far behind,” Liam informs me then turns, heading for the car, and I head for mine. I hop in, unlock the passenger door, and buckle up. Chase clambers in and fastens his seat belt quickly. His golden eyes scan the black leather interior as he fondles the dashboard.
Wow. This gives a completely new meaning to autoerotism.
“This is amazing. I’m guessing Richie Rich got it for you.”
“It would be a good guess.” I slide the key into the ignition and start her up. She purrs for me.
Chase relaxes back into the seat.
“Wanna see what this baby can do?” he asks with a ridiculously huge grin on his face. “Let’s take her out of the city for a quick joyride. We don’t have to be at your place when his butler drops off the car.”
“He isn’t a butler, and his name is Liam.” I pause and think about it for a second. “I really want to, but I’m worried about Damian, and I’d rather hang at home until I hear from him. Would you like to come bac
k to my place? We can do dinner and a movie.”
“Sounds great. Let’s bounce.”
I put her in gear and merge into rush hour traffic.
Midnight Rider
W
e make shrimp spaghetti with olive oil and garlic dressing and settle in on the couch to watch, The Godfather. I’m glad we decided not to go with tomato sauce and meatballs. I dig in and make it through about half the movie before checking my cell for a return text to the three I’d sent Hunt since I got home, but there’s still no reply.
My stomach churns at the flurry of thoughts that whirl through my head. Then I realize I have Liam’s number. He left it with the keys. I leave the den and head into my room to call him. He picks up on the first ring.
“Banks.”
“Hey, it’s me. I was calling about Hunt. I haven’t heard from him, and I’m worried. Have you?”
“Everything is fine. He’s in a meeting with someone, and he left his cell with me, asking not to be disturbed.”
Someone? Who is this mystery person? I want to ask, but I decide against it. I don’t want to be one of those girls.
“Well…as long as he’s alright.” I murmur with trepidation.
“Yes, fine…I’m glad you called. I have a message for you. There’s a package waiting for you at your door.”
“Really? Thanks, Liam. See you later. Bye.” I rush off the phone and run to the front door. I find two large white boxes stacked on my welcome mat. I pick them up and bring them inside, setting them on the coffee table.
“What’s that?” Chase asks, leaning forward to admire the loot.
“Your guess is as good as mine.” I open the first box to find a black leather jacket and calf-height biker boots. I look at Chase with a confused expression, and he shrugs. I open the taller, square package, and my eyes burst open, my mouth goes slack. I reach in and pull out a sleek, black biker helmet.
“What the fuck?” I blurt.
I notice a note taped to the side of the second box, pluck it off and read.
Wear the boots and jacket with a pair of jeans. Be ready when I text you, and meet me downstairs.
Love,
Slick
Just as I finish reading the note, Maya walks in.
“Hey, guys.” She tosses her purse and coat on the table near the front door. “How was your day?”
“Good,” Chase replies, and I follow with. “Fine.”
“Don’t get too excited,” she says. “I wouldn’t want you to strain yourselves.”
“Nothing to report on,” I comment.
“I have to disagree,” Chase chimes in.
“Well, tell her yourself while I jump in the shower.” I leap up with the boots in hand and head into my bedroom.
I
head back out to the living room, dressed in a white long sleeve tee and dark skinny jeans tucked into the boots. I take a seat next to Chase who appears uneasy, nervous, and Maya is nowhere to be found.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing…I better go.” He practically leaps off the couch and hauls ass for the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Chase, wait, what…” The door slams hastily behind him. “…happened?”
I jump up and head for Maya’s room.
Holy hell! Can’t I have five minutes of peace? I haven’t had a real moment to breathe since I met Damian, not that all of it is his doing, but I’m exhausted, and I feel overly stressed as of late.
I knock on her door.
“Go away!” she shouts, muffled by her tears.
“Maya, it’s me. Can I come in?”
“No! I want to be left alone!”
“Baby, what happened? Are you alright?”
No reply.
I stomp into the living room to search for my phone then back to the end of the hall to my room, slamming the door shut and plopping onto the bed. I fling my arm over my eyes, and before I know it, my phone goes off. I check the message.
From:
Hunt
To:
Elle
I’LL BE THERE IN FIVE.
Received:
Fri Feb 1, 2014 12:31 AM
I blink at the date and time
.
I must have passed out. I shake off the last of the sleep and slide out of bed. I grab my cell and wallet and totter off to the living room. I throw on the jacket and shove my stuff into the pockets. I snatch the sleek, black helmet and lock the door on my way out.
I anxiously head down to the lobby and out the entrance. When I exit, I find a mysterious helmeted rider on a lustrous, black sports bike. He’s wearing a leather jacket, worn-out jeans, and leather boots, very Marlon Brando.
I slip on the helmet and stride over to my midnight rider, taking his offered hand and flinging my leg over the bike. I straddle the seat and Hunt between my thighs, hugging him into me.
Suddenly, his voice comes over a speaker in the helmet.
“Hold on tight and don’t let go.”
“Never,” I reply, and I can almost sense his smile.
I hear a light click and a sultry tune begins to play, ‘Burning Desire’ by Ms. Del Rey. As always, she sets a sensual mood to play into our darkest desires. Her lilting, dreamy voice crooning artfully.
Hunt turns the bike on, doing the same to me in the process, as the seat wedged between my thighs begins to vibrate. We take off, shooting down Green. I clasp onto his waist tighter as we turn and zip down Hyde St. toward downtown. I rest my head on his wide back and shut my eyes.
Images of Chase’s anxious face and Maya’s locked door flood into my head. I hear her voice yelling for me to go away, and I become annoyed by the fact no one would talk to me, but I know what went down, at least the gist of it.
I open my eyes, snapping out of my reveries. I focus on Hunt and the wind whipping about the ends of my hair, rushing over me. I focus on the way the gentle hum of the motor and texture of the road causes my seat to vibrate between my legs, and I moan. It’s exhilarating.
We make it downtown in no time and fly through the oddly deserted streets. I glance up and get flashes of the tall buildings watching over us. I scan the roads and sidewalks, but we’re alone. Only the late night glow of offices, closed storefronts, and antique street lamps surround us. I take in the city as it speeds past us, observing the old and new styles of the architecture, mingling like relatives at a family reunion
.
If the older structures could talk, I wonder what they would tell us. What stories would they share with me? No pun intended. What secrets do they keep?
I get glimpses of Hunt, a turn of his head, a leather clad shoulder, his broad back, and I dig into him, breathing a sigh of relief, happy that he’s back in my arms.
We cut through the city and head back north toward the Golden Gate. Once we begin to cross over the midnight bay, I realize how chilly the air really is. The salty ocean breeze washes over my back in icy, whirling gusts, causing me to shiver violently. I try to ignore it and focus on the warmth of Hunt’s body against mine.
I look back at the shimmering city reflecting proudly off the dark waters, growing smaller in the distance, and I smile fondly on the home I hold so dear. I stare up at the lit towering Art Deco pillars of brilliant red as we pass under them. They’re so tall, they make me dizzy. They look like frozen giants as we speed between their legs. I turn my attention to the black bay, Alcatraz eerily floating in the middle like a ghostly, stranded ship. A moderate fog rolls in off the water, giving everything a supernatural glow.
I clasp onto his jacket and rub my helmeted head against his back. He places a bare hand over mine, and the contact causes goose bumps to spread along my skin, the only area where flesh touches flesh. He puts his arm at his side, over mine, and clasps onto my thigh, running his tightly gripped hand up and down the length.
I return the favor and reach forward, grasping his semi-erect cock into my palm. It becomes hard instantly. I feel the rush of blood filling him up, making him firm and ready to fuck. He rips his hand away abruptly and grips back onto the handle bar.
I release him, spreading my arms out shoulder height and shut my eyes. I’m flying. I’m soaring through the air, and I never want to come back down.
“Gabrielle,” he reprimands over the speakers, and I return my arms to his waist and clench my thighs about his. He shudders slightly, and I smile to myself, nestling my head into his solid, wide back.
This is my favorite mode of transportation.
We head up US-1 about half a mile and then turn off toward the huge hill running alongside the highway. We cut through it using a long tunnel and breakout the other side, past fields, houses, and old batteries hidden in the hillside. They’re cement structures used during WWII for storing weapons and military equipment, or looking out toward the sea for oncoming enemies. These forts are hidden all throughout San Francisco, including Angel Island.
We ride the semi-curvy, dark roads. When we turn off, I know exactly where we are. We come to a stop and park atop the famous lookout facing the Golden Gate and just beyond it, our city by the bay. It’s truly the most romantic view in the whole city. We have the ocean to our right, flowing into the bay on our left. The city is alive with twinkling distant lights, and the bridge is aglow, it’s vibrant red shade displayed under the scrutiny of the bright lights shooting up the length of the behemoth columns. The fog is now blanketing the city and monstrous landmark giving it a haunting, misty radiance. We sit there for a moment, gazing out at our city, admiring the beauty of our home.
He rubs my hand and yanks off his helmet. His deliciously messy hair blows in a light breeze, and I thrust my hand into it, brushing my fingers through. He tilts his head back and moans.
“I missed you, angel,” he says in a trance, and I rustle my hand in his hair. I pop off my helmet and the thick, mist of ocean air hits my face.
“I missed you, too, slick.” I hand it to him over his shoulder, and he takes it, hanging it on a handlebar. I dismount the bike and stretch, every tense muscle loosening, and I groan happily. I love a good stretch.
“What did you think?” he asks, flinging his leg over the seat and climbing off the sleek bike.
“That was incredible. I always wanted to do that.”
He opens a side compartment, grabbing a blanket and basket out, smiling at me seductively. I shoot him a huge, enthusiastic grin.
He places the basket on a small flat rock and lies the blanket out on the ground beside it. He gestures a hand to have a seat, and I comply. I unzip my jacket and slide off my boots. He does the same, except he takes his jacket off and sets it on the blanket next to him. I place my arms behind me and lean back, gazing out at the ocean and the moonlight playing off the gentle waves.
“I have a gift for you.”
I turn and stare at him with a cocked brow.
“You aren’t giving me the motorcycle, are you?” I ask dispassionately, my head tilted to the side. He chortles and reaches into the basket, pulling out a single red rose with a white satin ribbon tied about the stem. He hands it to me, and I take it appreciatively. I think the simplicity of the gift is what makes it special, endearing.
“It’s perfect, all of it, the moonlight, the rose, the romance, everything. Thank you, Damian”
I lean over and kiss his defined cheek. He slinks an arm about my waist and hauls me into him, whispering in my ear, “It’s my promise to you. One I couldn’t make when we first met, but I love you, and I want to give you everything I never thought I could.”
I place my head against his while he covers the side of my face in chaste, sweet kisses. I shut my eyes and soak in the beautiful tenderness of this broken man’s love for me. He cups a hand around the back of my head, holding me to him. “Are you hungry? Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Yes to both.”
He releases me and turns back to his treasure trove of goodies. He pulls out a wine bottle, two glasses, and an assortment of treats, setting them out, displaying the spread prepared for us. There’s a jar of beluga caviar and an array of cheeses, grapes, and other fruit.
He grabs a corkscrew and opens the bottle with a skilled touch. I pick up our glasses and hold them up. He pours half a glass in each, twisting the bottle at the end to ensure there’s no spillage. I hand him a glass, and we toast, staring deep into one another’s eyes.
“To us,” I say, and he nods his head, gently swirling the glass and fragrant wine in the cup. He sips on it, letting out a gratified moan as it slides down his throat. I taste mine and realize it’s from my family’s vineyard. I would know it anywhere. “How did you get a bottle of my father’s private reserve?”
“I have my ways,” he replies, clinking his glass with mine and taking another delicate sip.
“Slick,” I reply, puckering my lips.
He smiles his wicked grin and pinches my chin between his pointer finger and thumb, bringing my lips to his for a passionate kiss. His tongue invades my mouth with a forceful thrust, and I welcome it with a quick flick of my own. He moans and snatches it between his sculpted lips, suckling ever so gently. I whimper, and he ravages my mouth, fucking it sensually with his tasty pink tongue. His arms clasp greedily about my torso, his large hand splayed on the back of my head, smashing me against him.