Stocky & Sumptuous

by Mary E Thompson

  “Thanks,” he breathed, sounding relieved.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, wondering if it was too early in our relationship to ask about his day.

  “Yeah, just stressed. When I don’t have a place to work, it gets to me. With the guys there all day, I’m feeling a little lost.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I haven’t really been working. I’m living with a friend and can’t work there. I can’t go to my studio and work there. I’m sort of floating, waiting for all this to be done.”

  And just like that, I knew there was a workaholic in there.

  Chapter 13

  “Do you normally work a lot?”

  He shrugged. “I guess. I love what I do and consider myself lucky to have a great job. I feel like I’m off-balance when I don’t get to paint or draw every day.”

  “Can’t you draw at your friend’s house?”

  He nodded. “I do, but a lot of my stuff is at the studio. I have a cabinet there with most of my supplies. I don’t like to carry everything with me.”

  “Drew mentioned upstairs. I didn’t realize there was an upstairs to the studio.”

  “Yeah, that’s where I’m going to live. When everything is done, I’ll work and live under one roof.”

  If that didn’t scream workaholic, I didn’t know what did. “Won’t you feel isolated?”

  He shook his head and pulled into a spot at Nicolino’s. I grinned, catching his eye. “Is this okay? I figured we both obviously enjoyed it Friday. Almost as much as our dessert.”

  He leaned in as he spoke. The word ‘dessert’ came out sounding like the dirtiest of words and I had to clench my thighs together.

  “I think dessert was better, but yes, this is perfect for dinner.”

  He kissed me roughly, pushing his tongue past my lips with very little resistance from me. I reached up to hold on to him, pulling him closer. His hand landed on my hip and tugged me until I hit the center console. I broke our kiss on a yelp.

  “Ouch.”

  “Sorry,” he said, studying me carefully. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  I smiled. “I know. It’s fine.”

  His eyes told me he didn’t believe my words. He got out and met me at the front, reaching for my hand as we walked toward the door. We sat toward the back at a tiny table for two. He kept my hand in his, his thumb caressing my wrist, as we studied the menu.

  “Welcome to Nicolino’s,” Amy said when she walked over. “I’m Amy and will be your server tonight. What can I get you to drink?”

  While Hunter was still looking down, Amy pointedly looked at our joined hands. I shrugged and she winked at me.

  “Do you want a bottle of wine?” Hunter asked.

  I nodded. “Sounds good. What kind do you like?”

  “Red? Always goes well with Italian.”

  “I like it all.”

  He smiled and looked to Amy. “How about a Cabernet?”

  Amy nodded and wrote it down. “We have a great one. I’ll open it up while you look over the menu.”

  “Thank you.”

  Amy walked away behind Hunter and mouthed ‘he’s cute’ when he couldn’t see her. I stifled a grin and had to look away before I laughed at her pretending to faint.

  “Well, I already know the ravioli is good. And the scampi pasta. Any other favorites?”

  I looked at the menu quickly, my eyes going to my favorites. “I like pretty much everything. Lasagna is good. Baked penne. Spaghetti and meatballs. Pesto linguine. I haven’t had anything here that wasn’t amazing.”

  “Want to try a few new things tonight and share?”

  I nodded. “Sounds good. I want to try the stuffed chicken.”

  “I was looking at that, too. I was thinking about the pesto linguine.”

  “Perfect.”

  “And we have to have dessert,” he said, flipping to the last page. His thumb slid over my wrist again, brushing my pulse and ramping it up.

  “Here or after we leave.”

  He looked up and met my eyes. His were blazing, navy eyes scorching me with one look. “Both.”

  I fanned myself with the menu, hoping I could wait that long. He was potent, and so damn sexy. I wasn’t sure I’d survive the night.

  Amy brought our wine and took our order. She delivered a basket of bread to us and then our salads.

  “You know a place is good when you want to lick your salad plate clean,” he commented.

  “That’s the best use for bread,” I teased, swiping my slice of bread through a smear of dressing on my plate.

  He laughed and did the same.

  “Do you have any ideas for your next painting?” I asked when Amy brought our dinners out.

  I cut my chicken in half and put one piece on his plate. He scooped half his pasta over to my plate, and we started eating.

  “I have a few ideas.”

  “Do you talk about your work before you do it, or do you keep it to yourself until it’s done?”

  He smiled. “My mom always hid her work. I don’t know if it was because she worked out of the basement and it was only her down there, or something else, but she was very careful with sharing her work. I’m the opposite. I’ve taught art classes in senior centers and painted in front of an audience. I think art should be shared.”

  “I agree. I didn’t know you taught classes.”

  He nodded, tasting the chicken. “This is delicious,” he groaned. He finished chewing while I tried his pasta. It was just as good. Then he continued, “When I first moved here I didn’t know what I was going to do. I was always a decent artist so when I saw an ad for an art teacher, without the need for a teaching certificate, I called. I loved working there.”

  “Why did you leave?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I picked up a few more jobs so I could make ends meet and eventually had to say no. I only taught there a couple days a week and my other jobs paid more and demanded more of my time.”

  “What jobs did you do?”

  “Oh, man, let’s see. I was a waiter for a while, I sold insurance, I had a few painful months as a telemarketer. I had a good job with a manufacturing company, but I had to work nights and that was tough. I’ve done a lot of things.”

  “But artist is the one that stuck.”

  He nodded. “Definitely.”

  “What does your dad do?”

  “He’s a college professor.”

  “Really?”

  Hunter nodded, laughing a little. “Yeah. They’re as opposite as you can get. He’s a history professor. As boring and uptight as possible. I have no idea how they got together. He always told me she was the brightness in his life.”

  “Like your painting.”

  He finished chewing and asked, “What?”

  “The painting I looked at when we were at your studio. You said it was one of the first ones you did. The blue was tears from your mom when you told her you were going to be an artist. The bright background is like your dad, brightness.”

  He nodded, examining me closely. “That’s exactly what it was. He always said she was the brightness in his life, but she said it was the opposite. He was the reason she came out of the basement. The reason she went toward the light.”

  “Wow. That’s beautiful.”

  He nodded again. “They love each other. I always felt a little like I was on the outside looking in.”

  “The window?” I guessed.

  He smiled. “Yep.”

  I laughed softly. “That’s both beautiful and sad.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  “And you said you’re an only child?”

  He shook his head. “My mom had really bad postpartum depression after I was born. Aside from her barely being able to take care of me, they didn’t want to risk it again.”

  “That makes sense. My sister has helped women with that. Of course, she refers them to someone, but she sees it. They always feel worse because they waited so long and went through so much to g
et pregnant, and then they end up depressed. It’s hard for people to understand it’s not a conscious thought, or something they can control.”

  “Yeah, my mom told me once it was the hardest thing she went through. She stopped painting, but my dad basically locked her in the basement one afternoon and told her she couldn’t come out until she painted something. She said it probably saved her life.”

  “And now you’re feeling the same way about painting,” I mused.

  Hunter shrugged. “Not entirely. I miss it, and feel like a part of me is missing, but I don’t feel like I won’t survive without it.”

  “What would you do if you weren’t a painter?”

  He laughed and shook his head. “I have no idea. I can’t even imagine doing something else.”

  I nodded. “I get it. I’m not in a creative field, but I love my job. Getting to work with so many different things is exciting for me. I get to put a piece of me in each of the projects we work on. I love managing them, keeping things organized, but also tracking the budgets and researching products we can use in each one. Drew and Xander both include me in a lot of aspects. They’re great to work for.”

  “They came very highly recommended. So far, I’m really happy with what Drew’s done. I can see the studio coming together. Same with my apartment. It’s small, but It’s going to be great.”

  “And you’ll have plenty of decorations to fix up the place.”

  He shook his head. “No. I never hang my own paintings in my home.”

  “Why not?”

  He shrugged. “Feels wrong. Like if I’m taking the time to make them, I should be selling them.”

  I took a breath. “So, my friends Googled you.”

  “Uh oh.”

  “No, nothing bad. It said you like to keep your art priced so it’s affordable for everyone.”

  “Yeah?” he said cautiously.

  “I think that’s really cool. It makes art more touchable. You don’t have to be wealthy to have a one of a kind piece of art.”

  He nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly. That’s what I want people to realize. Yeah, the famous artists charge a ridiculous amount of money for their work, but when I put together the supplies and time I spend on each piece, I charge what’s fair. I don’t need to make six figures when I sell something.”

  “That’s what Drew and Xander say about their work. They make enough on each project to pay their bills, including salary for all the employees, but they don’t overcharge just because they can.”

  “Drew and Xander could easily charge twice what they do and still have people knocking down their door.”

  “From what I saw of your work, you could, too.”

  He ducked his chin, but I saw his smile. “Thanks.”

  We finished eating, talking about everything from our families to our lack of time for hobbies. When Amy asked about dessert, we agreed on tiramisu and cheesecake, to share. The sweet scent of cocoa powder and cream cheese filled my nose and made my mouth water.

  “Open up,” Hunter said, his fork poised near my lips.

  I opened and he slid the bite of tiramisu into my mouth. The sweet, creamy flavor of the mascarpone wrapped up the cocoa powder and tempered the kick of the espresso soaked lady fingers. It was perfect, as always.

  I groaned, my eyes slipping closed. When I opened them again, a smile on my lips, I nearly choked. Hunter’s eyes were not bright and happy. Oh, no. All darkness and heat and desire stared back at me.

  He lifted another bite to my lips. I opened immediately for him, the flavor hitting me just as well. I groaned again, licking my lips and keeping my eyes on Hunter. His jaw ticked and his knuckles turned white.

  He could have slid into me right then and found me more than ready for him.

  Damn.

  I took a sliver of cheesecake and offered it to him. He grabbed my wrist, holding it where he wanted as he took the cheesecake. His groan was accompanied by a brush of his thumb over the pulse in my wrist.

  He was right. He was the best dessert.

  We tortured each other trading bites of our desserts. When we were halfway through each, we traded plates and fed each other the other one. Never had dessert in a restaurant been such an erotic experience.

  Amy came back smiling and said, “How was dessert?”

  “Perfect,” Hunter said, his voice a husky growl and his eyes locked on mine. He still held my hand, his thumb rubbing my wrist like it was my clit. With the way I needed to clench my legs together, it could have been.

  “Everything was amazing, Amy. Thank you.”

  “Wonderful. I’ll leave this here for you. No rush, of course.”

  “Wait,” Hunter said before Amy got two steps away. He released my hand and dug out his wallet. He yanked out a card and shoved the envelope back at Amy.

  She nodded and shot me a look that said she understood exactly what was going on. I tried to play dumb, but she knew me too well. Plus, as a happily married mom, she understood exactly what desire looked like.

  She was back quickly with the receipt. Hunter signed and thanked her, then half dragged me out of there. In the parking lot, he pressed me against the side of his SUV, the side the was in the dark and out of view of the restaurant.

  He kissed me as he ground into me. He pulled my leg up, opening me up and hitting me just right. I was ready to come right there, just like that. I would have if he didn’t pull back.

  “I’m not going to fuck you in a parking lot, Vicki. I’ve been hard all night, but not like this. Not here.”

  “Where?” I breathed, knowing I wouldn’t last much longer.

  “Fuck,” he whispered. “I have no idea.”

  Chapter 14

  I was fairly certain I was going to spontaneously combust. Hunter ushered me into the SUV, but his hand was on my thigh as he drove. I wasn’t going to survive the night without having him. It just wasn’t possible.

  “Will your sister still be up?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Maybe not, but she’s a really light sleeper.”

  “That won’t do. I want to make you scream.”

  “What about your place?”

  He shook his head. “My buddy’s home. I sleep on the couch so there’s no privacy.”

  “Your studio?”

  He turned in that direction. “I doubt it, but we’ll check. Drew said something about a sixteen hour day.”

  “Shit.”

  We drove past and saw lights on and people still inside the studio. That wasn’t an option. We were running out of them. Quickly.

  “We just need to wait.”

  “I don’t want to, Hunter. This is so bad, but what about right here?”

  “Here? On the street?”

  I shook my head. “I meant in your SUV. It’s big. If we park somewhere that no one is…”

  I let my words trail off, feeling like a teenager sneaking around behind her parents’ back.

  “You deserve more than that, Vicki.”

  “I just want you. I don’t want to wait.”

  “Fuck,” he breathed, making a U-turn and going back in the other direction. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes as he navigated through town. He headed to the outskirts and pulled onto a dirt road near XD. At the end of the road, he turned off the lights and opened the moonroof. “No one will come down here, except you.”

  I grinned. “Hopefully you do, too.”

  “Oh, I plan to,” he growled, sliding his hand up under my skirt. He brushed over my panties and groaned. “You’re soaked.”

  “Dessert was really good.”

  “Not as good as this is going to be.”

  “You’re teasing me again,” I said softly, my breathing already getting shallow.

  “I’m definitely not teasing. I’m going to deliver. I need to be there though.”

  I gulped. “You want me on top?”

  “Fuck yeah. It’ll be easier.”

  I opened the door and slid out. Hunter came around the side, wrapping m
e in his arms when he got to me. He kissed me hard, his tongue telling me he was just as ready as I was. When he pulled back, he studied me. “You’re beautiful, Vicki.” He brushed my hair back. “Did I ever tell you I’m a sucker for redheads?”

  I shook my head and laughed. “I’ve heard that before.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, well, I’ve never wanted someone like I want you. I should probably tell you I’ve never had sex in a car before.”

  “We get to be each other’s firsts,” I teased.

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  He turned us and sat in the seat. Before I moved to get back in, I shimmied out of my panties. He reached for them, bringing them to his nose. “I want to bury my face in you. You smell amazing.” He hung my panties on his gearshift and reached between my legs. “I want to taste you. Bring you up to my lips and suck on you.” He sat up quickly and got out. “Sit. Face the side.”

  I did as he asked. He lifted my skirt and knelt on the ground. He tugged me forward until my ass was just barely on the seat, then pushed my thighs as wide as they would go. “A true redhead is even better,” he growled, then licked me.

  “Oh, fuck,” I moaned, trying to spread my legs even wider. I lifted one knee, anchoring my foot on the seat.

  “Don’t move,” he growled against me. “I need you to come because I’m about to come in my shorts, and I need to be inside you. This is gonna be fast, baby. I’m sorry.”

  “Please,” I moaned, not wanting to wait any longer than he did.

  He dove in, his fingers plunging deep inside as his lips closed over my clit. I held onto the car for support, wanting to grab his head and ride his face. His fingers curled and rubbed my g-spot and my vision blurred.

  “Hunter,” I moaned. My heart pounded and my core clenched. I was close, just that fast.

  He sucked harder, teasing me with his tongue, then sucking hard again. His fingers worked their magic inside me as his mouth made my head spin.

  “Hunter,” I whimpered, knowing I was seconds away and not going to last if he didn’t help me over the last edge.

  He got the message, pressing his tongue hard on my clit and his finger tight against my g-spot. I screamed, moaning his name and praising him all while holding him in place and praying he wouldn’t suffocate so he could do that again one day.