by Black, Lena
“Because whatever this is,” I rapidly motion my pointer finger between him and I, “whatever world we are in now is anything but real. It’s a fantasy.”
The amused look on his face falls away and it’s replaced with a sorrowful frown. “I’m not a fantasy, angel, I’m real.”
I place my hand on his chest, attempting to comfort him. “It doesn’t feel that way sometimes. It always feels like I’m about to wake from some fantastic dream, drifting between awake and asleep.”
“I can assure you, you are very much awake, and I’m most certainly real.” He sweeps his thumb across my cheek, wiping away splattered, soapy suds.
“Speaking of unbelievable realities,” I perk up, wrapping my arms about his neck, “in less than a week, I’m going to be Mrs. Gabrielle Hunt.”
“You aren’t afraid, are you?” He has that panicked look in his eyes, like the night I left.
I shake my head quickly and smile broadly. “No, I’m impatient and excited. It’s a big change, but I want it…What about you?”
He places his large hand on the back of my head and grasps onto the wet, tangled strands, staring intensely into my eyes. “I’m ready for this. I can’t wait for you to be my bride, my wife. I just get nervous about your reaction to all of it. I couldn’t stand it if you…”
My grip about his neck tightens and I stare him square in the eyes. “Damian, I’m not going anywhere. I’ve told you this over and over. I only left because I thought I had to. Come Saturday evening, I will be Mrs. Damian Nathaniel Hunt.”
I turn around, facing away from him, and shimmy my way back between his legs. He wraps his arms about me and squeezes, burying his face into my neck.
“I love you, Elle,” he mumbles from my crook.
“I love you, Hunt.” I place my hands over his wrists and breathe out a long, relaxing breath.
After Hunt pampers me, he puts me to bed and tickles every inch of my body until I pass out cold.
The next morning I got a call from Sloan, asking me to meet her and Jules for lunch. After the final fitting of my dress, I arrive at the Italian restaurant, and they are already seated in a booth toward the back. I wave when they spot me and head over, greeting them with a huge smile. They return the gesture, but Sloan’s doesn’t seem genuine, as if something is weighing on her.
I take a seat and order a tropical ice tea when the waiter notices me and stops by our table. When he leaves to give us a moment to figure out our order, I ask, “So, what’s up?”
Jules smirks at me and replies, “Not much. I’m just wondering why Sloan called this lunch meeting. You’ve been acting weird lately.”
“Yeah, I was wondering that myself. What’s been going on with you, sweetie?”
“What? Can’t a girl just want to have lunch with her friends without something being up?”
We both stare at her with our cough-it-up looks, and she blushes as red as her hair. She simply shakes her head nervously and glances at her menu.
“Fine,” I say. “Let’s order lunch first and then Sloan will tell us her big secret…I’m starved. What’s good here?”
We head to a small park around the corner and try to walk off our very filling lunch, talking about the latest details of our misadventures. Sloan acted strange all through the meal, and she doesn’t appear much better during our walk.
“Alright,” I finally say as we come to a fountain and take a seat. “Are you going to stop bullshitting and tell us what the hell is going on with you?”
She nervously tucks her cherry red hair behind her ear and stares down at her restless leg, which is bouncing fiercely. Jules puts a supportive hand on her back and rubs it. “You know you can tell us anything, hun.”
“I know, but that’s not why it’s so hard to tell you…I just have a hard time saying it out loud.”
I scoot closer to her and wrap an arm around her shoulder. “Oh, Sloan, it isn’t anything…terminal, is it?”
“No, it isn’t. It feels more like I just received a life sentence.” She takes a deep breath and shuts her eyes. “I’m pregnant.”
“Awww, Sloan, that’s…that’s wonderful,” Jules congratulates her, but you can see on her face, just hearing the word preggers is overwhelming.
“Is it?” Sloan asks, understandably unsure of what she will do.
“Yes,” I reply, “of course it is…But, what do you think, sweetie?”
She shrugs her shoulders with a vacant look in her eyes. “I’m not sure what I think or feel or want. I just know I’m scared and uncertain.”
“What made you…When did you…How did you find out?” Jules finally manages to get her question out.
“I’ve never been very regular, and I hadn’t really noticed that I’d been gaining weight. I’d been so busy with my job and Shane, I hadn’t really noticed anything was different,” she confesses with a shrug.
“So, when did you notice…What made you take a pregnancy test?”
“I was wearing my favorite pair of jeans, which felt pretty tight, but I didn’t think anything of it until I went to sit down for lunch with a potential client and the button of my jeans went bursting off. It hit her dead center in the forehead and left a nasty bruise. I was mortified!” She places her hands over her face and shakes her head
Jules and I glance past her at one another and breakout into a knee-slapping fit of laughter. Sloan rolls her eyes and fights a smirk, struggling to creep across her paler-than-usual face until she can’t hold back, joining us. She shoves us in the arms and giggles, “You assholes.”
Our hysterics finally begin to subside and reality sets back in, interrupting our moment of blissful ignorance.
“Well, anyway, when I started to think about it, I realized that my eating habits had changed, I’d missed a few monthly visits, and I was always tired.” She runs her fingers through her long, cherry red hair, shifting it over her shoulder and crossing her legs. “I guess it all clicked and I took a test.”
“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” I ask, placing my hand on her back and rubbing it in a soothing rhythm. “We could have been there for you while you were going through this.”
“I had a hard time admitting it to myself, let alone anyone else.”
“Have you seen a doctor yet?” Jules asks.
“Yeah, I wasn’t going to say anything until I was totally sure…He said I’m too far along to…take care of it. I have only two choices and neither are easy to make.”
“How does Shane feel about your…?” I attempt to ask.
“Condition?” she chimes in.
“Yes,” I murmur, nodding my head gently.
“I haven’t told him yet…You two are the first to know. I don’t know if I can tell him.”
“Look, I won’t pretend to know what you’re going through, but I know one thing, you need to talk to Shane about this. He has a right to know.”
“What if he leaves once he does?” she inquires weakly and tilts her face down, her Kool-Aid red hair falling about it, acting as a curtain to hide her sorrow.
“Then, he’s a fucking bastard,” Jules states, tucking Sloan’s ruby red hair behind her ear, revealing the silent tears trickling down her cheeks and chin, “and you will have nothing to do with such a low creature.”
I take her hand into mine and say, “Whatever you decide, whether to raise it or give it up, we will be here for you.”
“I know,” she says raising her face and smiling softly at us as the occasional tear drips from her gentle amber eyes. “Thank you, both. I don’t know what I would do without either of you.”
She slinks an arm over both of our shoulders and squeezes us close.
When I make it back to the penthouse, I head upstairs to undress and shower. I’m striding past Hunt’s study when I hear his deep voice speaking to someone. He doesn’t sound happy, in fact, he sounds quite upset.
“When was this…? I don’t need maybe or possibly. I need a straight answer…Was he alone…? Is this the first time y
ou’ve spotted them together…? I want you to watch her place. If he’s working with her, that would be the first place he goes…Yes, keep me posted.”
He hangs up the phone and depresses in his chair, sighing softly. When he looks up at me, his eyes tell of the stress he’s under. The normally brilliant green is a pale, milky green, almost jade. I walk over to him, kicking off my heels, and curl up in his lap. I wrap my arms about his neck and play with the ends of his hair.
“What’s the matter, slick?” He just stares off into nothingness, shaking his head slowly. “Was that about Dante?”
“Yes,” he answers simply.
“What about him?” I ask, gesturing my hand for him to continue explaining.
“One of my guys spotted him,” he states and sighs, placing his head in my neck. “He wasn’t alone.”
“Who was he with? Was it Olivia?” I adjust myself, finding a more comfortable position.
“No, it wasn’t.”
“Well, then who the hell was it, Damian?” I ask with an eager edginess to my voice.
He rolls his head against the back of his chair, looking up at the ceiling and avoiding eye contact with me. He lets out a breath and finally answers with a growl in his voice, “Vanessa.”
“Are you fucking with me?” I ask, almost stunned stupid.
He lifts his head, and the sorrowful haze over his eyes is heartbreaking. “I wish I were, but sadly I’m not. They were coming out of a hotel, hugging and kissing.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, I don’t think there’s a single girlfriend he hasn’t fucked.”
“That isn’t entirely true,” I remark, rubbing his hard chest.
He smiles weakly. “No, not you, not my everything.”
He leans in, placing his hand on the nape of my neck, and kisses my forehead with his soft yet firm lips.
“Did your guy follow them?”
“Yes, but they may have noticed someone following them. He lost them.” He lets out a harsh sigh and rubs his hands over his face. “To be totally honest, I really don’t feel like going over this right now.”
“I understand, slick.” I pat his chest lightly.
“How was your day, angel?” he asks, sweeping some hair out of my face. “Did you get more wedding plans taken care of?”
“Yes, I did...Actually, I’m done with everything…But, that’s not all that happened.”
“What happened, Elle?” He looks concerned, a bit edgy.
“Sloan, um, she’s preg…pregnant.”
“Really?” he asks, relaxing, seemingly pleased by the news. “Does she know what she’s having yet?”
“No, or she didn’t tell us, but she is, and now she has to figure out what she wants to do. The doctor told her it’s too late for the abortion option, so it’s between having it and keeping it or having it and giving it up.
“Either way, she will have a hard road to tow with whatever she chooses.”
“Yes, this is true,” he affirms. “I hope she can come to an arrangement that will suit her.”
“I’m sure she will. She’s a tough girl, but I just don’t want her to feel that she’s alone. I’m going to be there for her, so I hope you understand.”
“Of course, I understand completely. Anything she needs from us, she need only ask.”
“You’re truly incredible. I’m so lucky to have you.”
“Believe me, angel, the feeling’s most certainly mutual.”
I smile at him, placing my hand on his face, and then sigh, dropping it back down.
“What’s wrong, angel, stressed out?”
I nod my head.
“Me, too,” he agrees, and then a look creeps onto his face, as if a light bulb just went off in his head, and a wicked smirk kinks his supple lips. “I feel like going for a ride. How about you?”
“On your bike?” I ask, perking up.
“Or me, whichever you prefer.” He has a devilish gleam in his eyes.
“Why can’t I do both?” I ask, running my finger over his chest with a flirtatious grin playing across my lips.
“That’s my naughty girl,” he commends, returning my impish smile.
We whiz down the highway while listening to a haunting ballad of sticking with the one you love when everything goes up in flames around you. I believe it’s called ‘Dark Doo Wop’ by MS MR and very fitting per usual.
I escape into the music, in Hunt, in the night as the cool air whips past me, carrying all the stress and strife away with it. I let the vibration of the jet-black bike sooth me, resting my head on Hunt’s back and grasping tighter to his waist as he zips us back toward the city. He places his hand over mine, fingers laced together, holding onto him for dear life. My jean-clad thighs tighten about his and my fingers grip firmly onto the leather of his jacket. I don’t know what sends more adrenaline pumping through my veins, the rush of the motorcycle or the touch of his hand on mine.
Once I’ve had a chance to shower and unwind, I decide to go in search of Hunt and find out what we’re doing for dinner. I hunt high and low, but he’s nowhere to be found. I call Banks to check if he left, and he informs me that he saw Hunt going into his studio.
When I arrive at the studio door, I grasp onto the handle and jiggle, finding it’s unlocked. I enter and scan the open-floor plan, but it’s extremely dark and I can’t see two feet in front of me. I walk inside to locate a light switch and happen to look to my right, noticing a red light seeping from under a door. I cautiously move toward it, making sure I don’t bump into anything.
I blindly grasp onto the knob and crack open the door, allowing the scent of chemicals to waft out. It’s overwhelming, but I slip in quickly, shutting the door behind me. Hunt doesn’t hear me as he has music blasting. It’s one of his favorite bands, Nine Inch Nails’, ‘Every Day Is Exactly the Same’, a sensually dark song about the repetitiveness of an unfulfilling, loveless life.
I stand behind him, listening to the music, observing as he dips a sheet of paper from bucket to chemical-filled bucket, bathed in the brilliant red light. I look about the little room, which is only a tad bigger than a walk-in closet, and admire the recently developed photos hanging on thin lines of string. They’re mostly of San Fran and whatnot, but there’s a row of only me. After a few minutes, I don’t even notice the harsh smell that offended my nose when I first entered.
Suddenly, he turns to me, scanning me with curiosity and befuddlement.
“Gabrielle,” he murmurs.
“Hi,” I purr, moving toward him.
“What are you doing, angel?” He smirks at me with his head tilted to the side. How can he look so adorable and sexy as fuck at the same time?
“I missed you,” I reply, pressing my body into his. “I want you, Damian…Do you want me?”
“I always want you, gorgeous.”
“Then what the fuck are you waiting for...? Take me.”
He scoops me up into his arms and slams me against the wall, smashing his lips onto mine, hard. His tongue probes my mouth, fucking it roughly. He moves away from my lips, working down to my neck and chest then pulls away to look down at his oversized white dress shirt draping my small frame. He grasps onto it and rips it open, causing the buttons to fly off. He growls and comes back in for my chest, attacking with his lips and hands while I shimmy my way out of the torn shirt.
He grabs onto my wrists, pinning them to the wall above my head, and attacks me with his eager lips. His kisses sting as his delicious, abrasive stubble rubs my sensitive flesh raw. It’s divine. It’s just what I need…rough. His mouth trails back up to my lips, finding them with a desperate touch that melts my mind and weakens my body. I give into him completely.
He rips a hand from mine, still restrained above my head with the other, and shoves it in-between us, shifting my panties to the side. He slides his finger between my wet lips, locating my clit with effortlessness and strikes it with masterful flicks. He pulls me away from the wall and opens the door, walking us out into the st
udio and over to the bed. He never ceases his assault on the hypersensitive pink knot.
He stands at the end of the bed and tosses me onto the mattress. He watches me, scanning the outline of my body, highlighted by the city lights gently glowing through the floor to ceiling windows.
“I want you to take off your panties, Gabrielle, slowly, then spread your legs open wide for me.” His tone is staid yet soft, commanding my full attention without hesitation. His eyes are dark as he stares down upon me lying there for him, only him, scorching with the heat of a thousand suns.
I lace my fingers with the straps and remove them sluggishly, snaking my body as I take them down to my ankles. I push them off the rest of the way using my feet then spread myself open for him, revealing everything, including those tiny scars that decorate my inner thighs. They would’ve made me terribly uncomfortable when I first met Hunt, but not now. I know without a doubt, Hunt loves me, scars and all.
Then he confirms what I now know. “Look at you, Gabrielle. You’re fucking stunning…I will never have enough, ever.”
He walks about the bed, gently tracing his fingers along my aching, writhing body. He shifts himself onto the mattress, kneeling beside me with his hands placed on his thighs.
“Do you enjoy being choked, Gabrielle?”
What?!
“I’m not sure what you mean, Mr. Hunt.”
“When we were at the dungeon, that last night, you asked me to choke you while we fucked. Do you enjoy being choked, Gabrielle?”
Oh! The dungeon…I remember taking a lot of pleasure in his hands firmly wrapped about my neck, but I also remember his reaction afterwards.
“Yes, sir, I do…May I speak freely?” I ask with apprehension in my voice.
He appears pleasantly surprised by my asking permission, but regains control of himself. “Yes, you may.”
“I’m not sure you do. The way you reacted toward it in the dungeon scared me. I don’t want that to happen again.”
“I love grasping my hand about that little pretty neck of yours…It wasn’t completely about choking you, Gabrielle. It was everything I’d done to you, everything I wanted to do to you.”