Overlooked

by Lulu Pratt

  “Is that what this painting is about?”

  “Yeah. It’s a break from my usual style. Do you get any sense of emotion from this?”

  “It’s not very cheery.” Not very cheery? That’s an understatement.

  “Do you get heartache? Anguish?”

  “Yes, I’m absolutely feeling those things.”

  “The feeling of being used?”

  “No, there’s none of that. That situation definitely doesn’t exist.” He squeezes my hand to emphasis his point. I want to lean into him, to let him hold me while I digest everything that’s happened.

  “I thought this was an interview for the article.”

  Lawson smirks. “Don’t give me your sarcasm.”

  Our eyes lock, and I don’t respond. I can’t. Not now that his eyes are holding me, their warmth comforting me so completely.

  “Fine. How does it make you feel to see your creations displayed in our hotel lobby?”

  “Shocked. It shocked me to see them.”

  “But it must make you happy, or proud, or something?”

  “All of that. But the real thing that makes me happy and proud is hearing about all the hotel customers who stop to admire them.”

  “And try to buy them.”

  “Yes, that too. Especially that.” That makes me more than happy. It makes my insides do backflips with relief and elation. People notice me. I am good. I must be, or my paintings would simply fade into the background. Chasing my dream might’ve been the right decision after all.

  “You’re smiling, sunshine.”

  “It’s a relief. Like a confirmation that I’m an okay artist.”

  “You’re not an okay artist, you’re an amazing artist. You must see that now.”

  “I used to think I was good, but it took so long for anybody to notice me. And when I finally did get noticed, it was for the wrong reason.”

  “Wrong reason?” he asks, his eyebrow arched.

  “Not for my art.”

  “More for your ass in that tight waitress uniform, but followed quickly by both your personality and that picture you drew.”

  “You found that sexy?”

  “I thought that talent was pretty damn sexy. I’m still eagerly anticipating the self portrait of your sexy tits.”

  An easy laugh flows from me. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to hear that laugh.”

  “Like keep getting me fired?”

  “Fucking hell, I thought we got past that.” The breeziness vanished from his voice. Instead there’s anger. I don’t want to push him away — the thought scares me. But he hasn’t given me time, and I need to decompress. Now I’m scared I’ll push him away just to get the time I need.

  “I don’t want to have this conversation now.”

  He closes his eyes and says, “Then let’s talk about something else. Let’s talk about the Dodgers, or the latest Marvel movie, or the fucking weather, but for God’s sake, let’s keep talking.”

  Lawson runs his fingers over my palm, and a tear trickles down my cheek.

  Going to Voicemail

  (Lawson)

  Fucking hell. Time. Why does Skye need time? Isn’t it obvious to her how much I care about her? How much I need her in my life?

  Doesn’t she see she didn’t need the job with Kelso?

  I want to touch more than her hand. Can I? Or will that just piss her off?

  It’s killing me having her this close to me, close enough I can smell her flowery shampoo. I want to pull her into me and bury my face in her hair.

  Maybe if I kiss her, she’ll understand how I feel. I don’t know how to make her understand the way I feel about her. But it’s a risk too big even for me, if it pissed her off, I’d lose her for good. Whereas right now, it seems like I have a chance.

  I just have to keep her from leaving. To keep her talking. And I’m not letting go of her hand for anything.

  It seems like she’s shut down. I stop talking, ready to start again if she makes a motion to leave. Her face isn’t giving away any hints of what she’s thinking. I’d hate to play a game of poker against her. Although whatever it is we’re doing now has higher stakes than any poker game I’ve ever played.

  “I know your head’s swimming right now, but I really am running that article.”

  Skye’s eyes widen.

  “You are?” Her voice is dull, its normal spark missing.

  “I am. But I think I’ll run it in the magazine for my new company instead of this one.”

  “New company?”

  “Yesterday I changed my mind about Kelso. I’m tired of fucking around with him. I’ve already instructed Julie to fuck him as long and as hard in the courts as we can. It’s going to take years. In the meantime I’m starting a separate company. It’ll be great. All boutique hotels, in business and exotic locations that’ll attract a fiercely loyal following.” My throat burns as I speak.

  I’m thinking on my feet here. She’d better not think I’m fucking babbling. “I’m going to feature you in that magazine. Hell, I’ll put you in both. Do you want to be in both? No, wait. The new hotels are going to need lots of original artwork in them.” I take a deep breath, hoping this works. I need it to sound professional for her. “The company would like to commission you to create artwork for each of the new hotels. And to make prints of the pieces to use in the bedrooms.”

  The color has returned to her face, the shine back in her eyes. It encourages me to continue. “We can negotiate the number and cost, you don’t even have to deal with me. Everything can go through my head of procurement.”

  Skye smiles. “Maybe I want to deal with you.”

  It’s music to my fucking ears. Do I consider that acceptance? Hell yes. I stand, ready to pull her into my arms until the end of time, when her phone rings.

  “You should get that,” I say. I take a quick glance at my watch and smile.

  By the time she roots around in her purse and pulls out the phone, the ringing had ended.

  “Missed it,” she says, shrugging.

  “Is there voicemail? It might be important,” I say.

  “I’ll check.”

  Watching the delicate way her fingers tap the screen makes me long for them to touch me.

  She holds the phone to her ear. As she listens, her hand flies to her mouth and tears wet her cheeks. Finally her hand moves from her ear and she lets the phone drop onto the table.

  “Everything okay?” I ask, moving to her side. From her reaction, I assume her mother has followed through on her promise to me.

  Skye looks up at me with fresh tears in her eyes, and says, “That was my mom. She said she was interviewed for an article this morning and that she’s proud of me.”

  As soon as the words are out, Skye bursts into tears. I purse my lips as I pull out of the chair and draw her tight against me, removing any air between us.

  “I, um.” I pause, suddenly worried that what I did might make her angry. “I phoned her this morning to get a quote to use in the article and might’ve suggested that she grovel for your forgiveness.”

  Her body shakes with her sobs, and I hold her tighter.

  “I can’t believe she called me. When I left, she said I was dead to her.”

  “Sometimes people say things they don’t mean.”

  “Thank you. I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Don’t. You know I’d do anything to give you your parents back, anything.”

  For the first time since the call, Skye looks up and makes eye contact with me. Her eyes are glassy from tears, but behind the tears, the spark is back. No, it’s not just back, it’s blazing brighter that it has since I met her.

  I palm her cheek, drying the tears with my thumb. Her lips curl into a smile, a slight part between them.

  Nothing’s stopping me now. I press my lips against hers, forcing them wider apart. Skye does nothing to resist me, and I deepen the kiss before breaking it.

 
With her cheek still cupped, I say, “I would do anything for you. Don’t ever doubt me or doubt my feelings about you again.”

  “Never. I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t need sorries.”

  Her soft lips quiver, and I give them a quick kiss.

  “You promise to stop resisting me?”

  “I promise.”

  “So you’ll do the tit drawing?”

  “Stop it,” she says, laughing.

  “Fine. I like them better in person anyhow.” I slide my hand from her back, up her side, between our bodies, and cup her breast.

  “I’m sorry I ever doubted you. I can’t believe everything you’ve done for me.”

  “What did I tell you about sorries?”

  “Okay, this isn’t a sorry but I need to say it out loud: You promoted my art, you’ve offered me the most amazing commission ever, and you’ve given me my parents back. Thank you. That’s what this is, a thank you.”

  “The only thanks I want is you.”

  Her eyes flitter around in exasperation, moving from her body to mine, my arm around her waist, my other hand on her breast.

  She smiles and says, “It looks like you have that, from where I’m standing.”

  “You don’t hate me because I’m rich?” I give her a quick kiss.

  “No chance.”

  “And you see how much you belong in my world?”

  “Uh-huh.” I give her another quick kiss.

  “Good, because you are my world.” It’s true. With Skye, I’ve felt complete for the first time in my life. Before her, I didn’t know what being in love was. When she turned on me, ripping that feeling away, it left me hurting more because I knew what I’ve been missing.

  Skye’s chin quivers, and for a moment I worry she’s going to start crying again.

  She swallows and says, “Do you know you’re the only thing ever that’s more powerful in my life than my paintings?”

  “What?”

  “I mean, normally I spend every waking second thinking about them, but now with you in my life, I spend a lot of time not thinking about them.”

  “Does that mean your quality’s going to drop? Because, as your client, I demand the best from you.”

  “Oh, you’ll get my best all right. But it might take longer if you keep distracting me.”

  “I can deal with that, distracting you is my favorite thing.”

  “Mine too.”

  Her phone rings again, but she ignores it. It might be her parents again, trying to speak to her instead of leaving another voicemail.

  “Do you want to call your mom back?”

  “Yes, but later. I’m not ready to talk to her just yet.”

  “Why? I kind of expected you to spend the rest of the day on the phone with your parents.”

  “I’d rather talk to you right now.”

  I raise my eyebrow. “Talk?”

  Skye’s head tilts back in a devilish laugh. “No, not talk.”

  Get a Room

  (Skye)

  The only thing I want to do right now is feel Lawson’s arms around me. I need to press my body against his and let his warmth fill my soul.

  There’s no need for me to sort out my thoughts, because everything is crystal clear. I can no longer suppress my desire to be in his arms, because in his arms is exactly where I belong.

  Just hearing my mother’s voice made me happy, but hearing her say my father and her are proud of me flooded me with joy. He gave me my parents’ approval.

  Lawson’s mouth crashes against mine, and the hand that’s been resting on my breast squeezes.

  Even as I kiss him back, I choke back tears. My emotions are still spinning at a high velocity, but this time there’s only two of them: lust and love. Yes, even though I’ve never experienced it before, this intense emotion that has crushed everything else can only be love.

  Not only will I never doubt Lawson again, I’ll never doubt myself again either.

  He’s proven to me that I am a good artist. A great one, even. I’d wanted to give up. I’d been on the verge of throwing away my dream and quitting to become a waitress.

  Now Lawson’s given me my dream back. And I have my dream man to go along with it.

  He presses against my back to hold me close. His dick is rock hard as he grinds it against me, I love what I do to him. I love what he does to me. I close my eyes and shiver at the thought.

  My heightened emotions have all morphed together into a raging ball of lust. As if a switch has been turned on, my panties are drenched already.

  I pull my lips from his and say, “Take me home.”

  “Can’t you feel how fucking hard you’ve made me? The only place I’m taking you is here.”

  He flips up the skirt of my dress and grabs my ass cheek. My eyes blaze in response to his words and touch.

  “We can’t. We’re in that guy’s office.” We can’t do this in here.

  “I don’t care.”

  “This is his hotel. Couldn’t we find a room or something?”

  “That would take too long.”

  I open my mouth to protest, but his lips are on mine so fast I can’t. I can’t believe we’re doing this in here. Or that we’re doing this at all. It’s definitely not the reason I came here for, but holy cow am I glad it turned out this way. To be honest, I don’t think I could wait to get a room anyway.

  Is the door locked? God, I hope the door’s locked.

  Lawson trails kisses down my neck, sending shivers over my skin.

  “Thanks for wearing such a little sundress today. When I saw you standing there in it, I was ready to pin you down in the middle of the lobby and fuck you until you screamed loud enough to wake everyone in the building,” he says into my ear.

  “You wouldn’t.” My heart pounds faster at his words, remembering how angry I was at him when I’d first arrived. And how that anger has vanished and been replaced with an intense need to feel him in me.

  “You’re lucky I got you this far.” His mouth connects with mine again, our tongues frantic as he continues to grind against me.

  I’m lucky all right, lucky I’ve got him.

  He edges his hand up underneath the skirt of my dress and drags his fingers over my panties. They travel over the cotton fabric between my legs, and he groans in approval.

  “You’re as wet as I am hard.”

  “You have that effect on me.” The tingling between my legs is intense, and I straddle his leg in an attempt to get some relief. Being in his arms, tasting him, and feeling how hard I make him, has me on the brink of orgasm already.

  Between kisses he says, “I can’t wait to bury my cock in this white hot heat. Is that what you want, Skye? You want me to fill your tight pussy until it’s a quivering wreck?”

  “Please,” I beg, my voice breathy.

  “Please what?”

  “Please, sir,” I say, trying to contain my smile. He’s wearing a suit today. I’ve decided I love the suit, the prick, as much as I love the T-shirt.

  Lawson growls at my words and says, “I was going for ‘please fuck me’, but I’ll take that any day.”

  He pulls his head away and surveys the room. I don’t know where he thinks this is going to happen. There’s nothing in this room except the desk and the table.

  He grips my shoulder and leans me over the table.

  “Stay there,” he says, releasing his grip on my shoulders.

  His hands slide down over my back, following the curve of my waist. He flips up my dress and yanks away my panties, exposing me. My breath is fast with anticipation, and my eyes closed while I wait for whatever he’s going to do.

  I flinch as his fingers part me and roam through my slick folds. A moment later, his hot breath blows across my entrance.

  My body is prickling, wanting more, waiting impatiently for him to touch me deeper. To do the things to me he does.

  His tongue lashes against me before dipping in and out of my entrance. He’s full on tongue fucking me,
when he suddenly pinches my clit and rolls it between his fingers. I gasp and grip the edges of the table as the fervor in my body increases.

  I moan in protest when Lawson takes his tongue and fingers away. He licks through my folds until he reaches my swollen nub. Sucking it into his mouth, he flicks it with his tongue as his fingers push into my entrance.

  The sudden action forces a gasp from me. They move in a rhythm, pushing and tugging me until my hands are locked in a white-knuckled grip on the table.

  Lawson’s finger from his other hand moves in, and at the same time he takes his mouth away. His finger lightly presses on it and moves it in circles. I flinch as he bites down on my ass.

  “Stop fighting it, Skye, let yourself go and accept the way I make you feel.”

  His words are like a current of electricity over my body. All my muscles tighten then release in unison as a massive orgasm washes over me.

  I can’t control myself, a high-pitched noise escapes my lips. I’m still gripping the table tight, and I tip the whole thing up as I try to get his fingers deeper and deeper into me.

  “Fuck, yeah, that’s what I want,” he says.

  Lawson’s fingers don’t stop until I stop rocking the table. He slides his arm under my waist and pulls me up, spinning me until I’m facing him. Our mouths connect, my taste on his tongue arousing me all over again.

  “Sit on me,” he says, springing his dick free from his suit pants and boxers.

  He flops back into the chair, and urges my leg up. Straddling him, I hover over his dick. I wrap my arms around him, wanting to be as close to him as I can.

  I debate pulling off my dress and ripping his shirt open, but decide it’s not the best idea in this office. I settle for his kisses on my cleavage.

  Lawson grips my waist tight, guiding me into place. The tip of his dick is at my entrance, my pussy screaming out for more of it. I need all of him.

  My walls stretch as I sink myself onto him. I gasp as I let him take all of my weight. I’m stretched full of him, deeper than ever, and I fucking love it.

  Priceless

  (Lawson)

  Skye wraps her legs around me and the chair. Her hands fist my hair as we kiss, our tongues flick, exploring each other’s mouths. I kiss everywhere on her I can reach, wondering how pissed she’d be if I ripped her dress open so I can get at her tits.