She snatches her wrist from my grip and slams her fists on my chest again. “That’s what I thought.”
Her scathing remark is like a slap in the face and rage ignites like fire inside me. I grip her chin, forcing her eyes level with mine. They’re hot and angry and full of something other than hate. They dart to my mouth a second before her hand slips through my hair and her lips collide with mine. She kisses me. Hard. Forcing her way through the divide of my lips and into my mouth where our tongues meet in a furious dance. The more she pushes into me, the more I want her. My hands close around her hips, gripping her tight body, drawing her in. I need her closer. Her hands run up my back and her fingers dig into my shoulders, finding purchase. She tastes so fucking good, better than I remember. She’s so fucking hot pinned against me, and I push harder into her tight, little body.
My hands slide to her ass and she comes up, wrapping her long legs around me like a belt. My hard cock grinds against her and I swallow her moan, making it mine, making her mine. I want to own every fucking inch of her. Her hands rush up into my hair and tug as our mouths remain locked in a frenzied kiss.
I spin and stumble towards the bed while she clings to me. I need her body even closer; I need to feel her warmth. I fall onto the bed, grinding into her while my hand slips under her shirt and I find a bare breast. She moans when I roll the nipple between my thumb and finger but it’s not enough. I want to see them, feel them, taste them. Taste her.
I rip the shirt from her and my gaze falls onto her perfect tits. They rise and fall with her breath, her nipples like a dark red wine I just have to taste. My mouth closes around one and she arches her back for me, her nails scratch my back and I bite down. She moans as I graze it with my teeth, pulling and tugging—and still, she presses herself into me, into my mouth.
Fuck. My hand trails along her abdomen and I slide into her underwear. She’s fucking soaked. I groan at the feel of her while she grinds into my fingers. I’m so fucking hard. I need more and she needs to learn. I rip her underwear off, stand and pull down my pants and boxers, freeing my cock. I don’t wait for her to admire me; cause I don't give a shit. I need to be inside her, to fucking show her. My mouth finds hers again and I kiss her as I line myself up, her heat sending the tip of my cock reeling.
I don't wait, I can’t. My mouth falls open as I slam into her and feel her closing around me. Her nails claw at me as I start to pump. Hard. So fucking hard, she throws her head back and makes a sweet little sound I’m going to remember forever. Her hips roll against mine and our bodies smash into each other as I pound into her at a battering pace. I’m lost inside her as I chase my release. Zero control, zero cares, zero fucks—just the feel of her, just proving to her. Fuck her, fuck Emily. And as I think of her name, my body shudders and the orgasm tears through me in a violent thrill that has me seeing stars and groaning hard into her neck.
I remain above her, panting, smelling her skin, her sweet fruity scent and salty sweat. I draw in a shaky breath and pull myself out and away from her. Her eyes are large and round and her mouth slightly open, sucking in small harsh breaths. She looks shell shocked.
Shit.
I feel lost, navigating uncharted territory. I’ve never lost control like this before, never allowed myself to get totally lost inside another person; but the rage and lust smashed inside me rendering me rampant. I don’t even think she came. I pull up my pants, my gaze locked on her face, which remains dismayed. She doesn't move or speak, just breathes, slow shallow breaths that make her stunning little tits move up and down.
I nod like a fucking idiot and slink out of her room like a fucking coward. I close the door and am instantly immersed in the darkness of the hall. My back hits the wall, my eyes squeeze shut.
“Fuck.” I hiss through ground teeth.
I sure fucking showed her.
Emily
The door clicks shut. I stare at the ceiling wondering what the fuck just happened. My body burns anywhere he’d touched but my mind is frayed, swinging back and forth like a pendulum. I saw how he looked at me at that party—the jealous undertone of his stance and voice, the way his fists clenched by his side and his eyes burned into me. Pounding at my door, relief flooding his face when he found me alone before he fucked me and left me behind like an afterthought.
I slide off my bed and make my way to the shower where I let the hot water wash away traces of Hunter Evans. I shake my head as the water pelts my scalp and runs down my body.
A wicked tremble sweeps over me as I think about how much I wanted him. I wanted him to fuck me just as he did. But maybe, despite myself, I wanted more, wanted to enjoy it—enjoy him—be with the man who could please three women at once and have them call out his name. Or maybe they were all faking, maybe he’s nothing more than a brute and a thug that only cares about himself. A fucking coward. But I’ve glimpsed another side of him, I know there is so much more hiding behind all the muscle and arrogant facade. I shake my head, confusion settling inside me. I shut the water off and dry myself before sliding into my messy bed. Apart from my crumpled shirt still on the floor and ruined underwear, there’s no evidence of him ever being here. I close my eyes and inhale deeply before falling into a restless sleep.
10
Emily
He walks into the kitchen looking fresh and pristine as always. I hate that he can do that. My stomach tightens as he approaches then stops. Our eyes lock and he offers me a whispered hello. I look away and keep my gaze trained on my computer screen. I’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes looking at the contract but my mind doesn't want to absorb any of the information. All I see are squiggly black lines and Hunter’s face a second before he kissed me. I shudder.
“I think we should talk,” he says and brushes away invisible lint from his shirt.
I stare at his face—his perfect beautiful fucking face and the lips that kissed me last night—and my jaw clenches.
“Nothing to talk about.” I shrug and my stomach drops. He fucking walked out, pulled up his pants and left. I shake my head.
“Emily… look…”
“Don’t bother,” I say and slam my laptop shut, “I get it, you don't fraternise…”
“It’s not like—”
“Like I said last night, you’re a fucking coward and I’m just fine without you.” I step past him and he grabs my elbow, halting my exit.
“I’m trying to—”
“Morning.” Hunter’s hand drops from my elbow as Daryl walks into the kitchen. He’s in his boxers, his fading tattoos on display, his hair a wild mess on his head. His eyes fling from me to Hunter then back again, and a small smile plays on his lips. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No,” we say in unison, and I take the opportunity to take a few steps away from Hunter and towards the door.
Daryl’s grin spreads wider. “Right then, I’ll be ready in an hour. There’s a beautiful, young girl in my bed and I need to send her home smiling.”
I grimace at the thought and escape the kitchen. I’ll speak to Daryl later; I think I'd prefer it if his security detail remained outside the house.
We arrive at the studio and Daryl informs me he wants a closed session. I’ll have to stand outside the door and wait. I inhale through clenched teeth.
“If you wanted a closed session, why did you drag me here Daryl? I could be working back at the house; you know you have the upcoming tour—”
“You have a laptop, you can work anywhere, love. I wanted you here, so you're here.”
My ears burn red as I feel Hunter’s eyes on the back of my neck.
He turns to Hunter, “Be a good lad and grab her that coffee table from inside won’t you?”
The silence behind me tells me that Hunter has gone to do what he’d been asked. “Daryl—”
“No, love. No arguments today, just do the fucking job I pay you to do.” With that, he turns to leave and enters the studio slamming the door behind him.
Hunter is back a minute later
with the small coffee table. He sets it against the wall and leaves for a second time returning with a chair which he pushes under the table.
I look at the table then Hunter, “I’m going to go work in the car.”
“You can’t.” He blocks my way with his huge body as I try to walk off.
“Don't tell me what I can and can’t do.” I hiss at him trying to move by him.
“Ok.” He steps out of my way. and I smirk at my little victory.
I make my way to the parking garage and look around. Tom and the car are gone. Shit. I hold my hands over my eyes, my palms digging in, and I inhale deeply before turning back and making my way through the corridor.
Hunter doesn't say a word as I throw my laptop case onto the table and flop into the chair. I pull my laptop from its case and his shadow falls across the table.
“Can we talk?”
“No.” I flip the laptop so it faces me.
“Look,” he puts his hand over mine and I look up to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I try to rip my hand away but he tightens his grip.
“I don't know what came over me… I’m not usually so— “
“Angry? Selfish? Fast?”
His face falls a little, and I know I’ve hit him where it hurts.
He shrugs, “Ok, I deserve that, but I’m not that guy.” He releases my hand and takes a small step back. “You made me lose control.”
“So, it’s my fault?”
“Fuck.” He whispers and shakes his head, “That’s not what I mean. There’s just something about you that pisses me off.”
“Right.”
“No, in a good way.”
What the fuck does that mean? “Ok, if you say so.” My heart feels like a deflating balloon, the air painfully and slowly bleeding out till all that’s left is a hollow, limp sack.
“Emily—”
“Just forget about it, Hunter. Free pass—it never happened." I open my laptop and glue my eyes to the screen, clenching my jaw and praying the tears that flood my eyes won't spill onto my face.
Hunter
I stare at the mansion’s closed front door. I’ve felt on edge all morning and nothing, not my run, my workout, or a quick rub and tug has settled my mood. All I can think about is Emily’s face dropping when I told her she pisses me off and her tone when she accused me of being too selfish and too fast. I know it wasn’t my best performance, but I know she enjoyed it. Enjoyed me.
All I can do is breathe and wait. Emily has talked Daryl into keeping me outside like a dog. Tom kept his mouth shut despite the amusement etched across his face. Just three weeks to go and this nightmare will be over.
The door creaks open and Daryl steps out, unsurprising he’s not ready and his boxers hang loosely around his skinny frame. He pushes Emily forwards. She’s in one of her dark grey suits again. She looks like a tombstone.
“Morning.” He flashes his teeth and tucks his wild hair behind his ears. “Izabel has arrived, I need you to go pick her up for me. Guard her with your life.”
I look at the man as if he has lost his mind. He does know I’m not his errand boy. “I’m sorry sir, but my job is to protect you, I can’t leave the—”
“Your job today is to get Izabel home to me in one piece. Without her, I’m a dead man anyway.”
“Sir I—”
“No need to fret. I'm surrounded by a bunch of guys who look like they hunt and eat grizzly bears for breakfast, I'll be fine. I need you to make sure my Izabel gets to me safely.”
“But sir—”
“Emily here has all the paperwork for her release,” he pats her on the shoulder, “don't you, love?”
She twists out of his grasp and nods stiffly.
“Can you take your car? I need Tom.”
“Sir—”
“Great.” He smiles at me, then gives me a long meaningful look “With. Your. Life.” He lets the words hang in the air for a second before he swivels back into the house shutting the door behind him.
Irritation crawls along my body and I press the unlock button a little more violently than necessary and get in slamming the door behind me. I grip my steering wheel and wait for Emily to get in. She leans against the window not looking at me like she’d rather be anywhere else in the world than here. The feeling is mutual.
I turn on the car and we sit, the engine idles, purring beneath us. I turn and look at her. When we haven’t moved for a few minutes, she turns and glares, “Can we go?” she bites out.
“I’m not leaving till I know who Izabel is, I’m not putting some random in my car and bringing her back here without doing background checks and getting them a security clearance.”
Emily’s face splits into a sardonic smile. “She’s his guitar.”
“A fucking guitar?” I hiss and my grip tightens on the steering wheel, painting my knuckles white.
She nods and turns back to the window, keeping her gaze firmly fixed on a cloud.
I grind my teeth and pull away, my tyres screech as I do, and I can hear the boys’ laughter in my mind’s eye. When Wolf gets wind of this I’ll never fucking live it down. I put my foot down tearing through the morning traffic.
Some city DJ rambles on, seems he’s excited about the "Drowning in Darkness" tour and Daryl’s new album. "Twisted Heartstrings" blares from the radio, his most famous song, the one that propelled him to the top of the charts and cemented him as a rock legend.
“Why the fuck is this guitar so important?” I snap at Emily and she jumps at the sound of my voice, irritated that she hasn’t said a word in almost twenty minutes, that I’m a fucking driver for the day and a fucking delivery boy. This isn’t in my fucking job description.
“It’s not just any guitar,” she says and sighs. She almost sounds nostalgic.
“Why is it so important to him?” For the first time since we left the house she faces me then settles into her seat, her head falling back, her eyes fixed on the ceiling.
“Izabel was the love of Daryl’s life.”
“Was?”
She gives me a small nod, “Before he was who he is today, before he was Daryl Dark and lost his soul, she was his everything.”
I wait because I want to know more and I know how people love to fill silences with words. They can’t help it. And right on cue, she does.
“He met her when he was eighteen, when he took a vacation to Mexico with some friends. I don't know the specifics but I know he went out dancing and spotted her from across the room. He said she was like a planet and he gravitated towards her. He couldn't help the pull she had on him. He said it felt like being lost but in the right direction. And once she fell into his arms, he couldn't let her go.” Her eyes glaze over like she is lost in the story.
“He spent his entire two weeks lost with her, in her. He said she was mysterious and mischievous and he’d wake up each morning wondering what was going to happen next.
If you ask him, he describes himself as stupidly naive. Like all eighteen-year-olds, he was so sure of himself. Careless. Arrogant. Believing himself to be indestructible, which is why falling in love with Izabel so crushingly and devastatingly was disturbing and maddening. It stripped away all his fake sense of security and left him vulnerable and exposed in a way he’d never imagined.
When his holiday was near its end, he said the mere thought of leaving her behind left him agonised. He needed her to soothe the ache he felt when she wasn’t near him. He could not bear to be without her, knowing all his days would be full of constant and relentless thoughts of her. And maybe it was selfish to pluck her from her world, the one that made her, the one which fed her spirit and creativity and desires, but he did.
He promised her the world. He brought her back to the UK. He was infatuated, mesmerized, besotted with her; and she inspired him. The few who knew her said she had the power to make him gravitate to her in a room full of people. She was the centre of his universe and he revolved around her.”
S
he stops for a minute and takes in a long breath as if the story is taking a toll on her, then continues. “It was about that time that he got picked up with his single "In the Dark." Many people think it’s a tragic song, but it’s a celebration of his love for her. He wrote it for her, she inspired him. In fact, his first album "Towards the Light" was all about them. If you listen to the lyrics, really listen, you can tell how much he loved her because after, nothing ever sounds the same.”
“After?” I can’t help myself; she’s drawn me into her story and now I need to know. The airport comes into view and I make a right towards the short-term parking.
“Daryl had a friend, the best of friends, and they grew up together. Their careers took off at the same time, and the three of them were inseparable until one night, Izabel chose his best friend’s bed over his.” Emily chews on her lower lip and clears her throat. “Everyone said that after that day, his heart stopped working properly. He's a fallen star with nothing to orbit around, fated to drift alone through space forever.”
“That’s a bit dramatic.”
She shrugs, the fog that covered her eyes fades as she comes back to the car, and I know I’ve ruined it for her. But fuck it, all this romance is making me a little queasy. “It’s what being in love feels like. It tears at your heart slowly and painfully until it either completes you or leaves a permanent hole.”
“Sounds painful.”
“It’s meant to be.”
“Really? That’s not what the books say.”
She scoffs, “You read?”
Hunter (The Fractured Fairytale Series) Page 9