by Shandi Boyes
His eyes snap to me, confusion marring his face. Ignoring his odd expression, the owner directs me to a large section of romance books near the front window of the bookstore. An upwelling of tears form in my eyes when I see over two dozen books with the familiar coastal cover located in a prime position on the middle shelf of the romance section. Even decades after it was released, it continues to be a favorite amongst readers.
My hand rattles when I remove the first book off the shelf and crack open the pristine condition hardcover. Failing to locate any type of inscription inside, I put it back on the shelf before pulling down the one next to it.
After my third removal and replacement, Hunter mutters, “You’re looking for a particular signed copy.”
I bite on the inside of my cheek, giving it my best shot to hold in my tears as I nod. "My mom wrote a message inside a first edition copy. I didn't realize its importance until it was too late. During a move from college to my family home, it became lost in transit."
Hunter moves to the other end of the bookshelf housing first edition copies of The Weekend Romance and pulls down a copy.
“What did the inscription say?” he asks as he cracks open the spine of a book to check the inside cover.
A flush of heat creeps across my cheeks, closely followed by a large grin.
"Be yourself. No matter what. Some will adore you, and some will hate everything about you, but who cares? It's your life. Make the most of it. I love you, Pookie Bear," I quote, my voice crammed with sentiment.
Hunter places the book back onto the shelf and moves to stand next to me. His eyes shift between my tear-welling ones. “You’ll find it one day, Paige.” He draws me into his chest.
Twenty minutes later, we've checked every copy of The Weekend Romance on the shelves. Unfortunately, none had the inscription I was searching for. Feeling slightly deflated, I nuzzle in closer to Hunter’s side as we recommence our original journey.
Music blasts into my eardrums when we enter the head office of Destiny Records in Hopeton half an hour later than planned after our impromptu stop at the bookstore. Compared to the gala, this event has a relaxed, cheerful vibe. The women are still dressed elegantly, but their hemlines are a little riskier, and instead of wearing tuxedos, the men are wearing suits, some with jackets, some without.
Slinging off my coat, I offer it to the attendant standing by the door as my eyes scan the room. Hunter’s brows furrow when he witnesses an exchange between the tall brute of a man I saw at his house weeks ago and a gorgeous African American man in the middle of the drink serving area.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” he advises, placing a quick kiss on the edge of my cheek before he paces closer to the heated exchange between the two men.
He doesn’t interrupt them; he just stands to the side, carefully scrutinizing their confrontation. After a minor bout, the African American man puts on his suit jacket and strides to the door, tipping his chin in greeting to me on the way by.
“Everything okay?” I query when Hunter returns by my side.
His brows slant. “Maybe ask me in a year or two, because with all the shit that’s been happening the past two months, I honestly don’t know how to answer.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, vying to hide my delight that he believes I'll be around in a year or two to ask.
My brow bows when Hunter runs his shaky hand along the scruff of his beard. This is the first time I’ve ever seen him genuinely nervous. A grin curls on my lips as the reasoning for his nerves is revealed when he asks, “Do you want to dance?”
There's no chance of hiding the huge grin stretching across my face, so I just let it go before nodding. My smile sags when Hunter directs me away from the dance floor. I shoot my eyes between Hunter and an office door marked Boardroom when he swings open the door and gestures for me to enter.
"There's no chance in hell I'm going to make a fool out of myself. So we either dance in here, or we don't dance," he mutters to my silent interrogation.
“Here is great.” I wrap my arms around his shoulders.
I inhale a large breath of air through my nose, drinking in his delicious scent. “Million by Paco Rabanne.”
Hunter smirks and shakes his head. Darn it! One day I’ll guess his scent.
“You ready?” He asks, curling his arms around my waist.
I smile and nod, hoping to ease the tension fettering his face. We are dancing, not swimming with sharks.
Smiling, I hide the cringe attempting to cross my face when Hunter stomps on my foot for the third time the past ten minutes. I’ll be honest: he has two left feet and absolutely no dancing abilities. He's stiff, robotic, and the look on his face is anything but pleasant. But I appreciate that he has gone to the effort of attempting to dance with me.
When the song booming out of the speakers in the ceiling changes to a faster beat, I unwrap my arms from Hunter's broad shoulders and take a step backward.
“Moving out of the danger zone?” he jests.
“Something like that,” I gabble.
Remembering Hunter guiding me weeks ago, I interlock our hands and move them into a wavy pattern.
“If you start doing the sprinkler, I’m fucking out,” he warns, chuckling.
Smiling, I spin around, plaster my back to his torso and curl his arms around the front of me. I move my body in beat to the music but in a slower, more sensual pace to ensure Hunter can keep up.
“Dancing is just like sex, remember. I’ve experienced your moves; I know you have no problems swinging your hips,” I say, swaying my hips in a more sexual manner.
A blast of citrus-scented breath hits my neckline when he laughs. As the song progresses, the stiffness in Hunter’s hips smooths. He bends his knees, aligning our bodies together before swinging his hips. Although his feet remain planted on the ground like concrete, his hips, torso, and hands loosen up. One hand lingers on my hip, pulling me firmly to him while the other conducts an in-depth frisk of my body. Even with our bodies flushed and warm, my nipples tighten painfully like there's a chilly wind blowing into the enclosed room.
Allowing the music to overtake me, I lean deeper into Hunter, molding my body as close to his as possible, loving the feeling of his sweat-slicked skin wrapped around mine. We dance so close, not even air exists between us. Sweat dampens my body from head to toe, clinging the material of my dress to my flushed skin, but nothing can dull the excitement thickening my blood.
My dance moves become more sensual, almost sultry when Hunter mutters, “God, Paige. Will I ever get enough of you? I just had you before we left, and I already want you again. I want to feel you, taste you, devour you.”
He grinds up against me, ensuring I can feel his thick, hot rod.
“Here?” My breathy voice divulges my excitement at his inability to reel in his eagerness in my presence.
“Would you let me, Paige?” His beard scrapes down the side of my cheek before stopping at the base of my throat. “Would you let me fuck you here?”
The warmth of his breath on my neck and the roughness of his beard as he nibbles on my skin heightens my excitement, dampening my already slicked panties. When I try to spin around to face him, he firms his grip on my hips, keeping me facing the front and denying me access to his truth-revealing eyes.
“Answer me, Paige. Would you let me fuck you here, where you could get caught with my cock between your legs, pounding your sweet, tight little pussy? Would you let me scandalize you that much?”
My eyes missile to the frosted glass wall sheltering us from the other partygoers. Although no one has disturbed us in here, I have heard numerous muffled voices walking by the past thirty minutes, and considering the glass door doesn’t have a lock, the possibility of getting caught is credible.
When Hunter leans in closer to me, a vicious shudder racks through my body. “Yes,” I murmur, allowing my body to overrule my astute brain.
When he releases my hips from his rigid grip, I spin around to face him. My mov
ements are slow and unbalanced, wobbling on a pair of shaky legs. The quiver of my legs intensifies when my eyes lock with Hunter’s. His gaze is sparked with hankering, brightening his eyes so they’re not as murky as normal.
I peer into his eyes while declaring, "I'll take you any way I can get you."
The music playing dulls to a hum when I'm overwhelmed by hands, teeth, salivating lips, and the roughness of a beard. Just like every other kiss we've shared, his kiss is dominating and skilled. The wildness of it makes me completely forget we are in a glass box surrounded by partygoers, proving I made the right choice with my decision.
A soft moan of disappointment spills from my lips when Hunter pulls his talented mouth away from mine. I’m panting, dying to secure a full breath, and every nerve in my body is sparked. His eyes flick between mine, his face a cross between confused and aroused.
“Not here.” His voice is strained. “I don’t want anyone to see you.”
My eyes drift between his, utterly shocked. He never voiced a single qualm about having spectators at the sexual exchanges he hosted at his glass house. So what has changed now?
“They weren’t you, Paige,” he replies to my quiet ramblings. “I didn’t care who saw them. But I don’t want anyone to see you.”
Even though my bitchy spikes should be hackled from his comment, they aren’t. The fact he isn’t treating me as if I am just one of the numerous notches on his bedpost keeps my anger at bay.
I lean up on my tippy toes and press my lips to the shell of his ear. “Then take me home.”
Smiling, Hunter encloses his hand over mine and guides me back out of the boardroom. Even though we only arrived at the party forty minutes ago, and I haven’t been introduced to any of his friends or work associates, I'm too horny to care. There will be plenty of time to mingle with Hunter’s friends at a later date.
The suspicious eyes of the young lady who housed my coat earlier bounce between Hunter and me when I hand her my ticket. Clearly, we haven’t done a good job at concealing the excited look on our faces. With the feverish heat of our kiss still warming my body, I don’t bother putting on my coat when she hands it back to me.
I'm still trying to reel in some sense of normality when Hunter pulls his Hellcat away from the curb and commences our thirty-minute trip home. I lean over and switch on the radio, hoping some music will distract my lust-riddled mind long enough to rein in my unbridled horniness. Nothing works. I can smell his delicious scent; I can taste his tangy flavor on my lips, and I can feel the slickness between my legs.
When Hunter slows his speed for some pedestrians crossing the road, he shifts his gaze to me. His eyes show he's fighting the same struggle, walking down the same beaten track. His grip on the steering wheel tightens when I unlatch my belt and reposition myself, so I'm kneeling on the seat instead of sitting.
His hold becomes even firmer when I say, “I can’t wait any longer. I want you now.”
I nibble on the edge of his hairy jaw as my hand slithers down to the crotch of his trousers. A spiral of desire twists in my stomach when I discover he's already hard, heavy, and thick. The excitement heating my skin intensifies when Hunter pulls down a deserted side alley, yanks his seat back and pulls me into his lap. The hem of my dress bunches around my waist as my knees wrap around his hips.
He steals the breathy moan escaping my mouth when he seals his lips over mine, engulfing my senses with his delicious taste, smell, and touch in one quick movement. He rocks his hips, rubbing the girth of his cock against my aching pussy in a rhythm to match the pace of his tongue in my mouth. An intriguing mix of speed and skill builds the tension in my womb at a rapid pace.
One of his hands fists my hair, holding it to his mouth while the other gropes my breast, pinching and stimulating my nipple to a firm, hardened bud. Keeping my mouth arrested on his, I fumble with the buttons on his shirt, dying to feel his firm, tattooed skin against mine again.
By the time I have the buttons of his shirt undone, my dress is bunched in the middle of my waist since Hunter yanked down the front. My mouth absorbs his rough groan when he realizes I'm not wearing a bra. Tearing his mouth away from mine, his eyes lower to my chest. His cock twitches as his voracious eyes absorb my small, fully exposed breasts.
The dampness of my silk panties increases when he mutters, "Fuck you're beautiful. I still shouldn't be allowed to touch you."
“You’re not too bad yourself,” I say as my eyes engage in another long, lingering stare of his panty-wetting body.
He flashes a charismatic grin when I rock my hips along the length of his thickened girth, going extra slow to ensure he can feel the effect he has on me.
“If we weren’t trapped in the confines of my car, I'd be laying you out, devouring that sweet pussy of yours until you begged me to stop.”
I thrust my hips against him harder. “You make me want to whip out my notepad and take notes. My readers will love this scene.”
He laughs, not at all shocked by my comment. Lucky, as I wasn’t joking. Many of the bedroom scenes I’ve written the past few weeks are strongly based on my interactions with Hunter.
“Then we better make sure it’s a good one.” He slips my panties to the side and strokes his finger through the folds of my drenched pussy. “As I know how much those romance readers love a good mommy porn book.”
Chapter Twenty-One
I lift my arms out of the duvet cover of my bed and have a long, leisurely stretch. My muscles are delightfully tight, sore from hours of lovemaking that went well into the wee hours of this morning. Christmas mornings will never be viewed in the same light again after my night with Hunter. Lowering my arms, the crinkling of paper catches my attention. A grin curves onto my mouth when I discover a handwritten note sitting on the spare pillow next to me.
My grin enlarges to a full-toothed smile when I read the note.
Call me.
Hunter
Hunter is understandably spending the day with his mother and sister two towns over. Most of my adult life I've returned home for Christmas. But it doesn't feel right this year with a failed relationship under my belt. I also agreed to go to the Christmas Eve party with Hunter last month, and I planned on keeping my word. My dad and I will have a belated Christmas celebration when I return home mid-January. Although he was disappointed I decided not to come home; he also said he understood.
Placing the note on the bedside table, I scoot up the bed to rest my back on the headboard. The happiness twisting my stomach increases as I dial Hunter’s number and lift my phone to my ear.
A large smile tugs my lips high when his rich, chocolatey voice sounds down the line. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”
“Good morning, Hunter. Merry Christmas.” My voice is husky, still raw from the erotic screams torn from my throat last night.
“Merry Christmas, Paige.”
A small stretch of silence extends between us as his hand scrubbing across his beard sounds through my cell.
“Umm…”
My heart rate climbs astronomically, unable to miss the nervousness in Hunter’s voice from that one little word.
“My mom wants me to invite you to her place for dinner tonight. I told her you might have plans, but she made me promise I'd ask, so I’m asking. There, I asked.” His words come out in a frenzied hurry.
A giggle spills from my lips when a soft, young female voice says, "She won’t come if you ask her like that." When she makes a tsking noise, I can imagine the image of his sister from the photo on his mantelpiece crossing her arms in front of her chest and tapping her foot. "Ask her again and do it properly."
My cheeks burn from the size of the smile etching onto my face.
“Will you please come to my mother’s house for dinner tonight, Paige?” Hunter asks, his voice the smoothest I’ve ever heard it. “My mom and my little brat of a sister would love to meet you.”
I laugh when a rough groan sounds down the line, closely followed by, “I’ll get you
back for that squirt.”
The stomping of Hunter’s feet sounds down the line before quiet encroaches. “She kicks harder than you.” Hunter’s voice has a hint of laughter behind it.
He coughs, clearing his throat. “I understand if you don’t want to come, Paige, I know it’s ear—”
“I'd love to come,” I interrupt, my smile radiating through my voice.
“Okay.” His voice is deeper than normal. “I’ll pick you up in a couple of hours?”
I smile larger. “Alright. I’ll see you then.”
“Bye, Paige.”
“Bye, Hunter.”
Just as I’m pulling the phone away from my ear, I hear Hunter call my name.
“Yes.” I push my cell in close to my ear.
“Stop biting your lip. My teeth are getting jealous.”
He disconnects the call, not giving me the opportunity to reply. I stare at my phone, blinking and confused. My eyes snap open and rocket around my room when the meaning of his statement crashes into me.
When I fail to locate any type of device from my location, I scoot across my bed, wanting to complete a more avid inspection. The sun beaming in the open curtains warms my chilled skin as I pad around the room, seeking anything that could house a small camera device.
It's only on my third trip passing by the large window stretching across an entire wall of the bedroom do I catch the quickest glimmer of brightness reflecting from the corner of Hunter’s property. Raising my hand to shelter my face from the blinding rays of sunlight, I adjust my eyes. My heart beats triple time when I spot a small black security dome mounted on the corner wall of Hunter’s house.
I jump out of my skin when my cell phone unexpectedly vibrates in my hand, scaring the living daylights out of me. Peering down at the screen, the insane beat of my heart climbs even more.
Hunter: Bingo.
Screwing up my nose, I turn to face the camera. Instead of the camera lens facing Hunter’s property, it's facing directly into my bedroom window. My mouth gapes when the camera swivels, like it's being controlled remotely. After playfully sticking out my tongue, I grasp the thick curtain material and yank them shut. My phone dings not even two seconds later.