by Virna DePaul
“What?”
“Take him, please.”
He takes the baby boy back into his hands and I swipe quickly at my eyes.
“Dani, what—”
“I have to go. Can you make sure Chad gets a ride home?”
“What the hell is going on? Dani!”
I rush away from him. From the party. From the knowledge that no matter how much I’ve enjoyed getting to know Hunter lately, he’s the type of man I can never have.
The type of man who deserves a whole woman, and that’s something I’m not.
14
Hunter
What the hell just happened?
Had she been pissed by me saying I’ve never been able to picture my life with only one woman? Because if I’m being honest, I’m not sure that’s true anymore. It’s not something I can explain to myself, much less her, but there’s something changing inside me.
The baby—Patrick—begins to fuss, so I cradle him against my chest and rock him, but it’s not enough to settle him. He begins to scream. I wince and bow my head to him. “It’s okay, Patrick. Your mom’s going to be back soon.”
I continue rocking him until Mary returns to relieve me from babysitting duty.
“I’m sorry about that,” she says as she scoops him out of my arms. “He’s a lot more fussy than Hunter ever was.”
“It’s okay,” I assure her.
“Where is your friend?” she questions innocently.
I force a smile and lie, “She had to go to work.”
“Such a shame,” she laments as she manages to quiet Patrick almost immediately; that’s the touch of a mother’s love. “Nobody should have to work on a day as beautiful as this.”
I pound a shot of tequila at the bar by the pool and order another round. My mind is spinning, and I’m replaying our conversation trying to figure out what exactly caused Dani to bolt.
Chad takes the open stool beside me and leans against the top of the bar. “Have you seen my sister?”
“She left. Asked me to make sure you found a ride home.”
“What the hell did you do?”
I try for an outraged expression but can’t manage it. I shrug. “To be honest, I’m still trying to figure it out. You pissed she took your car?”
Chad shakes his head. “How can I be. Even as she was leaving, she was still looking out for me.”
“You almost say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s not bad. It’s just a lot to deal with. The knowledge that she’s always looking out for me, yet she doesn’t let me or anyone else help her out nearly as much as she should.”
“Your sister is strong. Independent. Those are admirable traits.”
“Sure. But the reason she was forced to be those things so young? Not so much.”
“What do you mean?”
Chad spins on the stool so that he’s facing me completely. “Our father wasn’t exactly around growing up. He was constantly leaving to be with other women, and occasionally would come back to shack up with our mom, who took whatever she could get from him because for whatever reason, she could never stop loving him. Eventually, Mom died, forcing Dani to fend for the both of us, and we never saw our father again.”
Shit, that sucks. I hate that she had to deal with that. But maybe that's it. Maybe me talking about my slightly absentee father and being a father one day reminded her of her own dad, a man who could never settle down with just one woman. Honestly, I never even thought about it, but what if I did end up being like that, like Chad's useless excuse for a father?
“I’m sorry, man.”
Chad shrugs. “It’s a part of who we are, and it changed us, but luckily I was young and didn’t have to do the things she had to do. We ended up couch surfing for a while and even stayed in a few shelters. Now and again, I would watch helplessly as Dani got into relationships with men who promised to help but basically just took advantage of her. There was this one guy, and she loved him so damn much and she really thought he was the one until she found him cheating on her.”
“Taylor?”
“She told you about him?” Chad looks surprised.
“He was hanging around her place the other day. Drunk. She says he stops by a lot.”
Chad cringes. “What did he do?”
“Nothing until he took a swing at me. Then I knocked that motherfucker on his ass. Twice.”
Laughing, Chad just shakes his head. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”
“Yeah, well sometimes I’m not sure your sister does. Or that she trusts me yet.”
“You want her to trust you? To allow me to sign with you, right?”
I lie, because I don't want to mention that I'm sleeping with his sister. “I want her to feel good about you signing with me. Even if she says it's okay to do what you want, I'd like your family to be on board with the decision - and to trust me to do right by you.”
Chad nods, taking a drink. “I know how you can get her to trust you. I know my sister better than anyone else, after all.”
I look over at him, almost afraid to ask. “How?”
He shrugs. “Simple. Be the kind of man she can trust.”
15
Hunter
Two nights after Thomas’s barbecue, I don’t walk into Skyn Ink via the front door. Instead, I try the rear door, which is fortunately unlocked. It feels a little weird just walking in like I own the place, but I’ve rarely let convention hold me back from going after what I want. Right now, I want to talk to Dani and for some reason, I feel like I need the upper hand. In some ways, I’ve felt that way from the moment we’ve met. She certainly threw me when she left the barbecue so abruptly. With any other woman, I’d let her keep her distance, yet I can’t seem to get enough of her.
There’s nobody in their work spaces, nobody piercing holes into flesh or drawing fantastical designs on skin. It’s quiet and eerie. Someone must be out front, I think to myself. The other option is that the shop is closed and somebody forgot to lock up.
I peel back the curtains that separate the work space from the lobby, and see Dani standing behind the counter with her head tilted down going over some kind of documents. I watch her intently, my eyes shifting from the curves of her hips to the punk-rock aesthetics of her pink highlights.
“You really shouldn’t sneak up on a woman,” she says suddenly. “How do you know we don’t keep a gun behind the counter?”
So much for having the upper hand. “Do you?”
She just turns and looks at me, crossing her arms over her chest. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to take you on a date.”
For a moment, she looks startled. And pleased? But then she seems to gather her armor.
“Maybe I’m busy.”
“Are you?”
“Depends on what you have in mind.”
“I was thinking dinner and a movie.”
She bursts out laughing.
“What?”
“That just doesn’t seem very Hunter Kiss-ish.”
“That’s not what I’m trying to be.”
“What do you mean?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Just, it’s obvious you have some preconceived notions about Hunter Kiss. Just like I have them about you. I’m wondering if we can start fresh. Get to know each other without assumptions getting in the way. Dinner and a movie sounds like a pretty safe way to start, don’t you think?”
She stares at me, movement behind her eyes, and I’d love to know what she’s thinking, but I already put myself out there and don’t want to push my luck.
“Fine,” she finally huffs. “But I’m not watching a chick flick.”
She almost looks uncomfortable, her eyes shifting, searching the fine establishment that is Burger Shack, a retro throwback to diners of the long-forgotten past.
“Do you want to go somewhere else?” I question, sensing that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. It seemed like the perfect date in my head, but maybe I’m w
rong about her. Maybe she was expecting to be wined and dined.
“No.” She shakes her head. “I just… I’m a little surprised you’d come here.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not fancy. It’s—”
“Hey, I love luxury, but I also love a simple burger, thin cut fries, an occasional Rocky Road Milkshake, and the ambience of chill music.”
“You keep on surprising me, Mr. Kiss.” She picks up the tall menu and looks it over, all the while hiding her face behind the plastic brochure. In seconds, she places the menu flat against the table. “I’m definitely getting the Guacamole Burger.”
“Great choice.” I stack my menu on top of hers. “I think I’ll have the same.”
“You’re so original.”
“Hey, my date has good taste.” I suddenly stand and slide into the seat beside her.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re on a date, right? I like the idea of sitting next to my date rather than across from her.”
“Hmmm. You just don’t seem like the dating type to me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s not forget that the first time I met you, you had sent a young Amy into a fit of crying rage.”
“Ah-ha.” I nod. “I knew you’d throw that in my face again eventually.”
“It’s not throwing it in your face to point out that you have a history of being a dick.”
“Touché. You’re not like Amy, you know.”
“Oh, I know that. Believe me.” She slaps her hip, obviously referencing their width.
I frown. “Knock it off.”
Her eyes widen and she blushes. “Sorry. Habit.”
And I’m determined to break her of the habit.
“So why am I not like Amy?” she asks.
“Because this thing between us—whatever it is between us—is not casual. Not to me.”
Even I’m surprised by my words, but the amazing thing is, I don’t feel the need to take them back. Instead, I reach out and take her hand in mine. She cocks her head then smiles warmly, the kind of smile that launches my cock into a jean-clad erection.
I shift against the leather bench seating and try to adjust myself without making too much of a scene. I clear my throat as I offer her a simple smile right back, but my imagination betrays me. I imagine having my way with her right here in the middle of this busy diner, or perhaps somewhere a little more private, like a bathroom in the back.
I drop her hand and place my hand on her inner thigh. She moans softly as I inch toward her pussy, but then she lays her hand over mine.
Her hand is saying stop, but her eyes are screaming, fuck me.
From behind me, I hear the clattering of plates and out of the corner of my eye, I see our server carrying our food to our table.
“Food’s here.” I pull away from her and turn my attention to the middle-aged server with glasses and stringy black hair. “Thank you,” I say as she slides the two plated meals onto the table with guacamole dripping from the sides of the hamburger. “Now, Dani Cross, prepare for your life to change.”
The lights darken, bass thumps from the speakers adorning the walls on either side of us, and the crowd grows silent as the film begins. Some stupid horror film about a man killing kids in their dreams, sounds kind of familiar but there’s not exactly an original thought left in Hollywood these days.
Lightning flashes across the screen, illuminating the theater, illuminating Dani’s pale, beautiful face. There’s something so maddening about being in a theater with a sexy ass woman in the dark, surrounded by people. It’s the sense of voyeurism; you go to the theater to watch movies, but also to watch people.
It’s one of my favorite hobbies in my spare time.
Right now, all I can focus on is Dani and how badly I want her.
Fuck, I think to myself, my erection pulsing against my jeans. I’m not going to be able to wait until the end of the date, the end of the night. I need Dani, and I need her now.
I pull up the cup holder between Dani and myself. She eyes me curiously for a moment before turning her attention back to the screen. I throw one arm around her shoulder, which she doesn’t fight, and pull her closer to me.
We stay this way for the first third of the movie, but my cock won’t rest at ease. At one point, she accidentally nudges my erection with her elbow, pulls away from me, and shakes her head with a gentle smile. “Seriously?” She scolds me in a hushed whisper. “You are embarrassing.”
“Please,” I scoff lowly and lean into her to whisper in her ear. “Don’t pretend like you don’t get off on the thought of people watching.”
She rolls her eyes, but I know on some level that I’m right. As soon as her eyes are back on the screen, I drop my hand against her inner thigh and I caress a path up her thigh until I’m palming her pussy through her jeans with one hand.
She lets out a hot exhale, her chest heaving ever so slightly. In seconds, she places her hand on my cock. For the next few minutes, she continues to watch the movie, all the while slowly pumping my cock through my jeans. I continue to tease her with my hand, creeping slowly to the button of her jeans and popping it with ease.
She swallows a nervous breath, cranes her head slightly to the couple five seats down. They’re not paying attention, they’re too lost in what’s happening on the screen.
It’s a tight fit, but I push my hand into her jeans and underneath her panties. Her feet dig into the floor as I caress my palm against her pussy, hot and ready. I want to pull her onto my lap and fuck her right here.
“Fuck,” I groan in her ear. “We should have watched that chick flick. Nobody would be in there watching that shit.”
“Shut up,” she says in a low, breathless whisper, and tilts her head back gently against the back of the seat. I curl my middle finger and push into her opening.
She lets out a low, but embarrassing squeal.
She freezes in place.
I freeze in place.
She cocks her eyes to me, fire and hunger swirling in their dark depths. “We should go,” she whispers.
16
Hunter
My shirt is on the floor as soon as we burst into my penthouse suite, undressing each other without even caring that the front door is still open. She makes quick work of her jeans, pushing them to the floor in a rushed hurry and immediately rips her shirt over her head before reaching behind her back and disposing of a pink bra that matches her panties.
I’m left standing in nothing but tight boxer briefs.
She races toward me.
I race toward her.
Our bodies meet somewhere between the door and the marble pillar that separates the living area from the kitchen. My momentum is too great, my lust for her out of this world. When our bodies hit, I continue pushing her backward until her body lands against the cool marble pillar.
My lips fall to her collarbone where I kiss a path up to her neck before nibbling on her ear. I leave a trail of hot wetness on her flesh until finally cradling her face on either side with my hands while I stare into the deep abyss of her eyes.
And I kiss her.
Really fucking kiss her.
Devour her lips first, and then her tongue. My cock pushes hard against the thin fabric of my underwear, threatening to tear a hole in them. I drop a hand low to her pussy and palm her through her pink panties.
She moans, groans, so I press my lips against hers to steal her breath as I continue to taunt her. She’s wet now, warm juices leaking through the thin fabric and I want nothing more than to fuck her brains out against this pillar, against the floor-to-ceiling windows, in my bedroom, in the shower. At this very moment, I think I could spend the rest of my life buried deep inside her hot, tight pussy.
I kiss her once more, nibble against her neck.
When I take a step back, I just about lose my shit. This is an image I want to remember. This is an image I can’t forget. It’s like an old school Playboy photo opportunity.
Her body, so fucking curvy and beautiful standing in nothing but bright pink panties complementing the pink locks of hair that fall over her shoulder and against the top of her taut breasts.
She spins in a half-circle, pulls her hair above her head in a pony tail and cranes her head over her shoulder with the sexiest fucking smirk I’ve ever seen. My eyes shift to the tattoo sleeve on her right arm first, and then the inked, watercolor sun permanently etched into her back.
This girl really has no idea what she’s capable of doing to me, but she’s much more confident than ever before, and that just about makes me lose my nut right about now.
She drops her hands to her panties, her golden hair with pink highlights falling against her back and dipping over the watercolor ink. She forces me to watch her as she drops her panties down her curves, down her legs until they pool on the floor. She steps out of them and before I know it, I’m back at her, dropping to my knees and forcing her to turn to me.
She combs her fingers through my hair as I flick my tongue against her wet opening. Her knees threaten to buckle. It’s as if she’s holding onto me for dear life, and I’m not about to complain.
“Ah, fuck,” she moans, her fingers tracing impossible paths in my tousled hair. “Shit.”
My fingers dig into her hips as I try to pull her against my mouth, so that I can taste her harder and deeper, but I’m at my limit. She tastes of heaven and perfection, her pussy the best I’ve ever had.
“I’m going to fuck you now, if that’s all right with you.” I rise to my feet, push my underwear to the floor, and throw a hand against the pillar on either side of her head. She pants, breasts heaving. She nods. I reach down and stroke my cock, then slap it against her pussy. “Go to my room, now.”
She moans and bites her lip, and I almost spill my seed against her bare inner thigh, where my cock caresses her silky smooth flesh.
She breaks away from me, rushes into the bedroom. Just as I’m about to give chase, I remember the front door is still open. I rush to the front door, trudging through two piles of clothes, and slam the door shut with one swing of my hand against the door, and immediately rush into the bedroom. She’s sprawled out on the bed with her legs spread, pressing her fingers against her wet pussy.