by Nora Flite
Nodding nervously, she watched me with heat crackling in her pupils. The pull between us was too much, if someone had come along and told us to stop or they'd drag us to jail, I would have kept going. It was worth the rap sheet.
Teasing her ass, I kissed her mouth and drank her soft whimpers. The pressure in my balls was growing. I was going to finish, she was too fucking hot for me to hold back.
Pressing softly on her rear entrance, I rubbed my pelvis down, grazing her clit with my body weight at the same time. Jo tensed, trembling and exploding like a water balloon. "Dirty girl," I growled, her pussy wrapping around me as she came. "And you thought you didn't—ah! Didn't like having your ass toyed with!"
Unable to speak, she bit her lip and moaned.
With her wet pussy crushing my cock, I gave up. Holding her close, I sank to my root and languished in the sensation of her still rippling walls as my seed poured into her. I came hard, fast, and felt the aftershock for a full minute.
Looking down on Jo, I wiped sweat from her nose with two fingers. "Okay. Now can we go inside? I need a drink. Bad."
Flushing, she smiled in disbelief. "We really are doing this backwards."
Reaching down, I squeezed her ass cheek so that she jumped. "You like it backwards, though."
"Hunter!" Wrinkling her forehead, she pulled her dress back on. It was a chore, the two of us trying to redress in her car. "I hope my neighbor didn't see us," she mumbled.
I pointed out the windshield. "Guy with the pug, right?"
Her mouth fell open. "Oh. Fuck." She wasn't laughing, but I couldn't stop myself. The guy was standing on the sidewalk, gawking at us with blatant surprise.
"At least he didn't call the cops," I mused. "I don't think, anyway."
Pulling at her cheeks, she groaned dramatically. "We should have done this inside."
"My thoughts, exactly."
Together we left the car, Jo shielding herself behind me as I waved at her neighbor with a big, stupid, giant grin. She was humiliated . . .
But I'd never felt better.
11
Jo
I was hoping that wedding dress shopping would be just Lanie and me, but Victoria had other plans. First, she wanted to take me to Haven Oaks Country Club for a “luncheon” with her society friends, and then she said that we would travel into the city to go to an exclusive wedding gown boutique.
I considered protesting, but I knew I would be better off with at least one of Hunter’s parents on my side. So, I went into the SportsFire offices early that morning to work on my ClimbTime pitch. I was almost ready to schedule a presentation with the CEO.
I was trying to focus on work, but I was worried what the afternoon would have in store for me. I wasn't excited about spending it with society folk, but Victoria didn't seem so terrible. Sure, she was stiff and snobby, but she seemed to actually care about Hunter, whereas her husband delighted in pointing out his shortcomings.
At Victoria’s request, I arrived at the club a half hour before the luncheon was scheduled. She greeted me in the foyer, pink and white silks hanging off of her long and elegant dress. Who wore that kind of thing in public? “Come, dear, let’s grab a cup of tea out here on the patio.”
I much preferred the outside of the Club to its stuffy interior. We settled at a silver table beneath the canopy of a dark blue umbrella. “Thanks for inviting me here, Victoria,” I said.
“You’re quite welcome. I’m sure this situation isn't a walk in the park.”
Brushing my stomach, I tried to smile. “Hardly."
“Well, I just wanted you to know that I’m on your side. I had Hunter Junior when I was a few years younger than you, actually.”
I sucked too hard on my water's straw, choking. “I had no idea." Mrs. Daniels looked young, but I thought it was just good genes or an even better plastic surgeon.
Looking out over the green club grass at the people milling below, her voice was wistful. “I learned how to fit in rather quickly. You will, too.”
I wasn't so sure.
Her eyes closed, like she wanted to see something else besides the perfect and bland socialite landscape. "Honestly," she said, turning back to me, "I never thought I’d get a grandbaby out of Hunter. Don’t tell his father, but the truth is that I am quite pleased with this whole situation.”
"Your secret is safe with me," I said, deciding to take her at her word. I was growing more fond of the situation, too. Especially after Hunter had laid his feelings out openly for me. Maybe having a baby with him and tying the knot might turn out alright.
Our chat was interrupted by a group of older women. They paraded onto the balcony, their outfits as garish—and expensive—as Victoria's.
"Cerene!" she cried, standing to meet the group. "This is Joanne."
I stumbled upwards, banging the chair loudly. "Uh, nice to meet you all." I wanted to dig up my P.R. skills and fake my comfort, but my head was foggy—was I already getting what I'd been told was the dreaded "baby brain?"
They all smiled and shook my hand, some of them doing air kisses that I copied as quickly as I could. Wishing I had a notepad, I worked to remember their names. Besides Cerene—an octogenarian hoot who didn't seem to give a damn about anything, at one point I caught her pinching the waiter’s butt—there was Lorena and Kitty.
I watched the women as they interacted. I was afraid they would be stiff and proper the entire time, but the conversation turned to gossip at the same time the appetizers arrived.
“Did you hear about Courtland, the golf pro?” Cerene asked the table.
“That he’s having an affair with Miranda Kennedy?” Lorena delicately bit into a toasted brioche covered in crème fraiche and caviar.
“He wouldn’t do that, not Courtland,” Kitty said. “I always thought he was flirting with me.”
“Oh, Kitty,” Victoria interjected. “He’s much too old for you.”
“So what?” Kitty asked, laughing. “I like an older man.”
Cerene smirked behind her glass. “You like all men, Kitty.” The entire table laughed; I joined in, easing up with their casual attitude.
Right as I shoved a forkful of Cobb salad into my mouth, Cerene asked me, “So! How did you meet our dear Hunter Junior?”
Ah, shit. This was a delicate subject. Luckily, I'd been practicing with Lanie. She'd insisted I stay honest, and of course, not expand on the night at the Standard.
Easy.
I chewed as quickly as I could, dabbing my mouth with my fancy cloth napkin and said, “It’s a funny story. We met through work. I’m his public relations representative.”
“Scandal!” Cerene shrieked before clapping her hands together. “I love it. Work romance is always so exciting. Good for you, Jo. Good. For. You.”
I finally relaxed and realized that maybe these society ladies were more normal than I’d thought. At least, Cerene and Victoria were on my side. Kitty might have been giving me weird looks, but that was probably because I was studying her fork usage for my own edification.
After lunch, we traveled in a stretch limo into New York City. We arrived at Gowns on Main and were buzzed into the store by a woman who looked like she was a former model—or maybe a current one.
She greeted everyone with kisses on both cheeks and had her assistant, an eccentrically dressed man in his thirties named Benji, pass out champagne. The ladies sucked it down and had another round.
After Benji shoved me into a dressing room with an armful of gowns he'd picked out for me, I could hear Lorena say, “So, Victoria, do you think that Hunter will be able to restrain himself so that maybe this engagement lasts?”
In all the propulsive ruckus, I'd actually forgotten about Hunter's ex, Poppy. Right, they were engaged before. My ears strained, eager for details—for a response.
Victoria's voice had a curt edge. “We don't know what happened the last time. Hunter never admitted to cheating on the Van Hausen girl.”
Laughing for far too long, Kitty said, “You
don't know? Poppy told me everything. She said that he, along with those rapscallion Kings Club boys, had competitions to see how many girls’ numbers they could get.”
Weeks ago, I would have heard it and believed it. Now, my insides contorted from how much I didn't want to believe. I put my ear to the fitting room door to listen better.
Cerene scoffed. “Sometimes lads do such things. It’s harmless fun. After all, telephone numbers in one’s Rolodex are not the same as notches on one’s bedpost.”
Cerene was quickly becoming my hero.
“Poppy swore to me that she saw him leave a bar with some skank," Kitty snapped, her voice rising. "She swore it to me.”
Cerene made a rude noise, but Victoria was the one who answered. “Poppy was always blowing things out of proportion. She didn't think the ring was big enough to show true love or some nonsense. She made him get a bigger one. She was always trouble, that Van Hausen girl.”
I looked down at the ring on my finger. Out of everything going on, not once had I thought the diamond mattered. It was Hunter's feelings . . . his determination to show me he cared . . . that had me second guessing my wedding fears.
Something scraped over the floor—a chair? Kitty said, “All she wanted was for him to set a date. Instead of that, he screwed a bartender from the Clubhouse.”
I couldn't take much more of this, so I zipped up the dress I was struggling with and threw the door open. “I’ve been going through all the press coverage of Hunter for the last two years, and there is no evidence of him going home with anyone while he was with Poppy, as far as the paparazzi could tell. And you know them, they don't miss much.”
My righteous fury gave me the power to stand there with my dress half-hanging off my chest, one hand squeezing the back of it to keep it in place, while giant fluffy frosting-rolls of lace dwarfed me. Kitty was standing in front of the others, her eyes fixed on mine as she sized me up.
I had the feeling people rarely called her out.
“Poppy is my best friend," she said firmly. "She wouldn't lie. You know what, I need to get some air.” She gave me a nasty look before disappearing past a display of veils. I wasn't sad to get a breather from her.
I knew by now that Hunter was many things—a playboy, a bad boy, a lady’s man, a guy who was really good in bed—but cheater didn't fit his personality. He might have been reckless with his own life, but he wouldn't hurt anyone on purpose.
Victoria was the first to break the icy air. “Jo, I don't know if this is quite the look for you, my dear.”
Cerene added bluntly, “No, it certainly isn’t it. You’re too pretty to look like a puffer fish, dearie.”
I was about to turn and shuffle back inside the safety of my dressing room to peel the dress off. Then I saw her.
Poppy.
She was in a bright yellow sundress with a white cardigan. She was perfectly coiffed, like she’d just stepped out of a magazine. What the hell was she doing here? Before I could flee back inside my dressing room, the only safe space I had, Poppy was right there. Right in my space.
Breathing hard, Kitty bounded in view behind the woman. “Poppy! I can’t believe you just happened to show up here, what a coincidence! I think Jo needs some help in the dressing room getting that gown unzipped, maybe you should go help her.”
In my over-sized white wedding dress, I eyeballed Hunter's ex nervously. She wore a tight smile, the kind meant for people you didn't like in the slightest. I said, “I’ve got it, no thanks.” I went to pull the door shut, but Poppy slipped in with me.
“No, no, let me help a fellow woman out!" she declared, clicking the door closed. We were pushed together in the tiny closet-sized room, and outside, I could hear the worried mutters of Victoria and the others.
I cringed as Poppy reached for my zipper, blocking her hands. "Don't touch me, I don't even know you."
Acid entered her wide eyes, they looked like they could melt me if she focused hard enough. "Yes, you do. You definitely know who I am, little Miss Future Hunter Daniels."
Eyeing the door over her shoulder, I thought about shouldering my way through. Maybe I could pull off one of Hunter's field moves. "Poppy, right? Yeah. I know of you, but—"
"Let me tell you something." Poppy spread her feet, one arm sliding over the doorknob. “I can see that you’re under his spell. It’s those eyes of his and all that confidence. Trust me, I know what it’s like. I fell for him, and it took me forever to find out who he truly is.”
His warm lips and serious words slammed into my brain. I love this. The ring, the baby, us . . . And me.
I said, "I know who he is."
“Oh, is that right?” Poppy asked. “Just how long have you two been together?”
The elephant in the room said She knows they split only six months ago. I can't pretend we dated longer than after their split. “A few months,” I lied through my teeth. “It was love at first sight.” It was something else at first sight, but I didn't feel the need to tell her that.
Poppy's lip curled. "Oh. Okay, I think I just figured it out. You don’t come from this walk of life, do you? Your parents probably told you to find a guy who could keep you comfy, and here comes Hunter, so you spread your legs and win him over, thinking how great it is you landed a guy like him so you can manipulate your way into the high life and—”
“Stop." I didn't need to shout; there was ice in my voice and Poppy heard it. "You're right. I don't have rich parents who paid for everything. I don’t have parents at all. I got where I am because I worked hard, and I still work hard."
Poppy smiled broadly, the light shining off her perfect teeth. “Whatever, honey. You must have worked so hard to get him to fuck you. Or was it him? Did he trick you into bed and now you're too blinded by his cock to see he'll use you and forget you?"
"Quit talking about him like he's so awful," I demanded, letting the dress go—letting it fall to my ankles. I was in my underwear and I didn't care, I'd face this terrible woman down naked if I had to.
Poppy said sweetly, "Maybe you should ask Hunter about what happened in the Bahamas. See what you think of him then.”
I’d had enough. I opened the door and kicked Poppy out; she tripped, and lucky for her, Kitty was there to catch her. The pair of them scowled viciously at me, and all the while, I stood proud in my near-nudity.
I could tell by the look on everyone’s faces that they’d overheard our conversation.
Cerene coughed into her fist, eyeballing me. “Well, I do quite like that minimalist look.”
It took a great effort not to slam the door. I sat down inside, hugging my knees and trying to process everything that Poppy had said. What nerve she had.
Wait. If she came all the way here just to mess with me, it's possible she's not over Hunter. What if she gets nosy enough to keep digging and finds out about the baby, about our hook up?
And what had she meant about the Bahamas?
Why should it even bother me? I'd planned to end the relationship once we were out of the limelight, anyway. I couldn't be developing feelings for him, not actual feelings.
He said he loved me.
No. He hadn't said that exactly. But was it worth splitting hairs? I never said it back to him. It was hormones, it wasn't . . . real.
I didn't have a clue what my reality was anymore.
12
Hunter
For the fifth time, I glared down at my phone and read the message.
Jo: I ran into Poppy today. Or she ran into me, rather.
The device squeaked under the pressure of my fist. Poppy went too far. What the hell was she thinking? This Poppy problem had to end.
I hadn't responded to the text. Instead, I'd called Jo and asked her to meet me at my private penthouse for dinner. I actually enjoyed cooking; it relaxed me. But I’d gotten so used to having a personal chef making me meals that fit my training regime, I’d gotten out of the habit.
Just in case I was rusty I decided to make one of my go-to dish
es. Tonight, I’d serve Jo Chicken Picatta a la Hunter over a bed of spring risotto. I especially liked the fact that the dish had the word "bed" in it.
I was in the middle of frying capers when the doorbell rang. Wiping my hands on a towel, I shouted, "Coming!" My voice echoed, my sneakers scuffing the floors as I ran to the front door.
When I opened it, Jo flashed me a half-smile that said a million things. I tried to read all of them: I've picked out a wedding dress for our fake marriage, I had to hang out with your mom and it was awkward, oh, and your ex assaulted me.
It was all awful shit. But faced with Jo wearing a blue button-down and jeans that hugged her curves in all the right places, I could only think of peeling her pants to her ankles and kissing her thighs.
My cock sprang to life; I squeezed the door harder. "Jo, you look great." I'd gotten so used to her suits and dresses that this casual style struck me as amazingly sexy.
"Shush," she laughed, reaching in to hug me awkwardly. "It's just laundry day stuff." I doubted that, but I didn't comment. I was enjoying the warmth and pressure of her body. My gut said there was no way she didn't feel my massive hard-on between us.
Closing my eyes, I hugged her even tighter.
“Are you going to let me in?” she asked, breaking out of my arms. The blush on her cheeks and the way she didn't meet my eyes made it clear—she'd definitely felt my eager cock trying to reach her through my jeans.
Grinning, I motioned for her to come in. "I hope you have a reservation, Ma'am."
Jo rolled her eyes, then she hesitated, inhaling to full capacity. “Wow. That smells amazing.”
I flushed with joy. It was almost as good as hugging her.
Most people ogle my home like it's some busty model at a car show. I had a top designer come in and make it look swanky with Scandinavian furniture, custom glass fixtures, and a killer bedroom. I wanted it to look classy and plush, but not like that decadent and outdated monstrosity where my folks lived.