Authors: Lena Black
When the door opens for their floor, they rush off swiftly, trying to avoid eye contact. Hunt chortles lightly as the doors shut, and we continue in heated silence.
I glance at him, and he’s watching me intently, boring his piercing eyes into the side of my face. I turn toward him, tilting my head back, lifting my face to his. I want him to kiss me
badly
.
He gazes down at me with despera
te longing and begins to lean in, slowly creeping closer to my waiting, swollen lips. His smoldering eyes burn into mine. All of a sudden, the doors slide open, seemingly snapping him out of his captivated state. He halts and jerks back as apprehension darts across his entrancing face.
Damn it!
He snatches up my trembling hand, encasing it in his, and yanks me out, hauling me toward my apartment. Skipping behind him, I become excited, nervous, and ready for whatever awaits.
I snag my key out of my purse, fumbling with them as I take a step toward the door and shakily unlock it. I sense him, his intense eyes on my back, watching, wanting, waiting. I take a deep breath as I open the door and step through into the uncertainty of our future together.
Possibilities?
W
e enter the apartment to a flood of warm, inviting light from the living room window. The view never ceases to amaze me. I glance up at Hunt, noticing his hair has hints of gold, drawn out by the sunlight, almost giving it a caramel hue. I watch him appraisingly scan my home, with a raised speculative eyebrow.
“This isn’t the type of place an assistant can afford. Do you have a roommate?”
“No. The folks purchased this place for me when I moved back from college. I didn’t want it at first, but they insisted. I try to pay them rent each month, but they put it in an account for me. I’ve actually grown to love this place. It’s my home.”
“That was a generous thing of them to do. You lived a comfortable life.”
I roll my eyes.
Comfortable is not the word I would use.
“Is that a question or a statement?”
“Statement. Your father is Marshall Hyde, correct?”
“You’ve met my father?” I ask, confounded.
“Your father’s a business associate of mine.”
My jaw is dragging on the floor. “Come again?”
“I would love to, but I need a first in order to do it again.”
Did I hear him right?
I’m shocked for a moment but pull myself together. “Oh, don’t do that. I’m serious. Explain yourself.”
“It’s actually quite simple. He came to me with a few ventu
res, I trust his business sense and invested. We have an excellent work relationship and strong personal. I play tennis with him, and we see each other at functions and such. I really should thank him for having such a stunning daughter.”
“How is it we haven’t met? I’ve attended many of those functions.”
“Do you want to talk about why we never met, or would you prefer to get on with the reason we came here? I personally would prefer to eat and discuss a proposition I have for you. Time is of the essence. We only have thirty minutes to hash out the details.”
“Why are you making this sound like a merger?”
“It is a merger in a way. Please, let’s sit.”
I feel like a stranger in my own home. He seems to dominate any environment he’s in, making it his own. We walk into my kitchen, taking a seat at the granite island/kitchen table, on bar height chairs. I love my kitchen, especially when I’m cooking at night with the view and a tasty glass of wine.
“I’m going to be frank…”
“Oh! Can I be someone else, too?”
He cocks a brow, shooting me that lopsided smile that could melt the panties right off me.
“It’s excell
ent to know you participate in role-play…I was going to say, I want to propose you and I enter into a mutually exclusive…”
This is it. He’s going to ask me to be his girlfriend.
“sexual relationship.”
My heart stops, and I feel the horror rush to my face.
“You want me to be your…fuck buddy?” I ask, disappointed.
“It’s not quite that simple, and I didn’t want to be crude, but yes.”
“Why would…why would you ask me…I’m not looking for a relationship of that nature. You are crude for bringing it up in such an uncouth manner. No intimacy.”
“Are you upset I asked, or I didn’t do it on my knee? Were you expecting moonlight, roses, romance? I’m not interested in intimacy, more like fucking you till we both collapse into a sweaty heap.”
My breathing quickens, and my cleft tingles. I’m frozen, watching him silently, trying to figure out what I could possibly say to him.
“No! I didn’t expect a grand gesture, but I certainly wasn’t expecting this
, either,” I reply, aggravated.
How could he not want intimate, when he does
such thoughtful things for me, like send my favorite flowers with poetic notes, or holding my hand in public.
Then it hits me.
He wasn’t being sweet by holding my hand, he was staking his claim, letting everyone know I belong to him.
“You only held my hand to ward off other men, to let them know I’m not available. I am not fucking prope
rty, Damian. I’m a damn human being with feelings and emotional needs. I’m not a fuck machine!”
My past was problematical to say the least, and fixing how I handled it was harder. I’m not going back to that type of lifestyle. Hunt stares at me as if he doesn’t know what to say.
Good!
After a few moments, he finally speaks, “I’ve never met anyone like you before. No one speaks to me the way you do. On the street, when you clutched my hand and led me down the sidewalk, I wouldn’t have allowed any other woman to do that. Yes, I was st
aking my claim. I won’t deny it. However, I was also trying to get near you. You do things to me, Gabrielle.”
He pauses, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath before continuing, “I don’t do intimate because I don’t know how.”
I’m not expecting his response or confession. I find myself drawn to the part of him that’s dark and broken, a kindred spirit. I want to know the part of him that hides from the rest of the world.
I take a long
, deep breath and ask the only thing I want to know, “Why didn’t you kiss me in the car or the elevator? Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”
His pie
rcing green eyes spring to mine. He straightens up and says, in a matter of fact way, “If I kiss you, I won’t be able to stop myself from taking it further. I want to fuck you, Gabrielle, the way you need it, I need it. I don’t want to rush. I want to take my time to explore and savor you.”
“Oh? What makes you think I would let you?”
“Angel, I would do
everything
in my power to make you beg for my cock. I’ll make you hungry for me.”
Angel? I’m hardly an angel, but I like it.
I am hungry for him. Truth is, I want him anyway I can get him, but I want respect as well. I need that for and from a man before I go to bed with him.
“I can
’t just fuck. I need possibilities, to know more than your name and financial status. In addition, you’re my boss, which makes boning you kind of complicated…Why didn’t you tell me your last name? Why didn’t you tell me who you were? How old are you? Why didn’t…”
“
Gabrielle, you have to slow down. Please, one question at a time…To answer your name query, check received calls. Did you even look at my number?”
“No…”
He gestures to my purse and waits while I dig out my cell and check. It’s there, listed under the name Hunt. I glance up at him, and he has a grin from ear-to-ear, lighting up his eyes.
“You’re peculiar.” I blurt out. My eyes shoot open, and my hand flies over my mouth.
He shrugs with his omniscient smirk. “I knew you were a smart girl.”
“I’m sorry.
I…I don’t know where that came from. I didn’t mean it.”
“Yes, you did. Don’t apologize for telling the truth. I am peculiar, more than you know.”
“There’s a lot I don’t know about you.”
“Yes, this is true and a discussion for another time.”
I think for a few moments then finally settle on a topic.
“How do you see me?” I inquire.
He pauses as he’s about to take a bite of his burger.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you see me as a conquest, as your prey?”
“Yes, and you’re making the chase a lot of fun.”
“How old are you?”
“I’m thirty.”
“Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”
“I’
m a private person with a very public life. It’s not often I meet a woman who doesn’t know who I am. I understand that sounds arrogant, but it’s the truth. When I realized you didn’t recognize me, I took the rare opportunity. I knew if you contacted me, it was because you genuinely wanted me, not who I am and what I can give you.”
“What about my previous statements? About your position over me and the possibility
of furthering our…whatever you want to call it.”
He reaches across the table and takes
my shaky palm into his large hand, tracing my knuckles with his thumb.
“Please,
Gabrielle, don’t think of me just as your boss. I want to be more than that, so much more. I’m not saying we can’t attend functions or have a better understanding of one another. There has to be trust when you do what I do. However, I can’t give you the fairytale. I am
not
Prince Charming, and I don’t ride off into the sunset with the fair damsel. I fuck her. I want a sex-based relationship, preferably with you.”
He releases my hand with
a frown and continues, “I can’t give you all of me. Now, you understand why it will end in tears.” He pauses for a second and looks at me with narrow eyes and a smirk. “Did I hear you correctly? Did you say boning?”
“Yes, I thought fucking seemed worse, so I said…”
“Yes, I know, boning…I truly would enjoy boning you. I need to be inside you. I’ve needed it since I saw your curvy body swaying on the dance floor. I need you writhing above me.”
The image is a welcome one. I want his body mo
ving under me, over me, behind me. I’m aching to take him right here, right now.
“I hope you’ll consider my offer,” he comments, looking down at my untouched food. “Aren’t you going to eat your out-of-this-world burger?”
“I was.” I reply, picking up a fry and tossing it back on the table, with a disgusted look on my face.
“Are you alright, Gabrielle?”
“Yeah, I’m just not hungry after our conversation.”
“Would you take a few bites for me? Please?”
He looks at me with slight concern, and I reluctantly take a few bites of my bacon burger, a couple fries, and wash it down with root beer soda.
“That’s my girl,” he commends
in-between bites of the mushroom burger he’s working on, as if we aren’t talking about such a personal topic.
I am in a daze as his words reverberate in my mind.
How can three little words please me so much? I’ve never heard sweeter words spoken.
He glances down at his Cartier watch, gathers his trash and the rest of my food.
“It’s time to leave.”
He throws the trash away and pu
ts my leftovers into the fridge, as I gather my belongings and wait by the door. He’s standing at the island, throwing on his jacket, and I watch him silently, admiring how delicious he looks. Suddenly, I’m extremely hurt by the fact that he would propose a sexual relationship without even so much as kissing me first. As if I’m not worthy of more.
“What’s the matter, Gabrielle?” Hunt’s voice breaks my focus on the unsavory thought
. He’s staring at me with a concerned, tense look that wrenches his beautiful face.
“You haven’t kissed me yet.” I pout.
“Gabrielle, I…” He wants to. I can see it burning in his eyes. But he doesn’t move. He just stares at me with trepidation.
“Fine, whatever,” I
remark, wounded, turning toward the door. I have it about halfway open when he grips my hand and yanks me into his arms, holding me flush against him. He looks deep into my eyes, studying me, my soul.
Without warning,
he slams the door shut and smashes me against it, pressing me into the blockade with his firm body. My breathing is stressed, and my heart in pounding a million miles a minute. He takes in a sharp intake of air before his lips meet mine with a fiery passion that’s fucking mind-blowing. We hold each other tightly, as if we’re trying to meld our bodies together. His arm curls around my lower back, culling me into him with a hand firmly placed on my ass, grinding me into his hard cock.
My god, it’s…HUGE!
My hands grab at his thick hair
, holding his mouth to mine, deepening our delectable lip-lock. He moves his hand down the back of my thigh, lifting it to his hip so my skirt bunches up just under my rear, and I let out a whimpered moan through mashed lips. Hunt’s hand slithers up my skirt, and I try jerking back, but the door won’t allow me.
He says in a low, husky voice, “
It’s ok, angel. I just want to see your garter. It’s fucking hot.”
I go lax in his arms. His hand meets the top of my stocking where he slides his finger between silk and flesh, tenderly running it along the inside. He reaches the taut strap and glides the masterful finger to the top, meeting the lace of my garter belt.
“I want to see you in this, heels, and no panties.”
Oh god, I want him inside me, thrusting, pounding my yearning crease. I
want him to fuck me as he said ‘Till we collapse into a sweaty heap’.
“I’ll do it,” I murmur in a low voice, yanking my skirt down, but I am unsure I want him to hear me.
“You will?” He mashes me closer. “I don’t want you to feel you have to…”
I put my finger up to his lips.
“I want to make myself clear. I want you, but I want things to happen naturally. I will participate on one condition…Make an effort not to treat me as if I’m just something to get your tip wet. I’m not asking for happily ever after. I just need to be able to live with myself after this is over.”