by Black, Lena
“Like hurt me?” I inquire with a befuddled look wrenching my face.
“God, no,” He appears disgusted by my question, “I could never hurt you, but I wanted to do things that would have taken you far past your boundaries, further than you were ready to go…We’ll talk more about this later. Right now, I’m going to make you cum.”
“Yes, sir,” I reply with an excited tremble.
He places his hand on my legs. “I’m going to need you to remain as still as possible.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s my girl,” he praises.
His hands begin their ascent, kneading at my tender skin, feeling every inch of my body. He presses his thumbs into the delicate flesh of my inner thigh until he reaches my wanting cleft, sliding a finger inside. Sluggishly fucking me with one hand, the other continues up over my hips and torso to my breasts. He pinches the hardening nipples with his fingers and sharply yanks them, snapping them back. My back arcs as he works me over.
His hand slithers up to my neck and clasps on firmly, putting enough pressure to remind me of his presence. His thumb finds my clit as his skilled finger, working my G spot, becomes two, and he quickens the pace. He goes fucking wild, fingering me hard and deep. My back bows and my whole body trembles. With his hand still holding onto my neck, he finger fucks me into submission.
The rapid attack on my tensing cunt causes rowdy, pleasure-induced cries to pour from my lips. I scream and beg for more, calling out his name over and over as my fingers claw urgently at the comforter. I feel myself building higher, forced closer to the edge of that beautiful abyss I crave.
He fucks me ruthlessly, his breath is stressed, and the veins in his forearms and brow are bulging from exertion. He bites down on his lip as he pummels my throbbing slit, his grasp becoming only slightly tighter about my neck. I can’t hold on much longer. I feel nothing but his hands on and in me, all my attention focused on these two areas of my body.
“I feel it, angel. Come for me. Show daddy how much you love when I please this perfect little cunt.”
That’s it! I give up fighting these sensations overwhelming my body, and I explode in a carnal exhibition of writhing delight. I scream and twist as my orgasm overpowers, taking complete control of me. My toes curl, and my muscles release with tremoring jerks while the warm waves of pleasure wash over me. I’m in a sexual haze that causes me to lose track of time and myself.
I slowly come back down, occasionally twitching, and realize I’m straddling Hunt’s lap, with his consoling arms wrapped tightly about me. My head slumps from weakness, resting heavily on his shoulder while I gasp for air, and my arms hang lazily at my sides. I want to fling them about his neck and hold him close, but I can barely move.
“Did that hit the spot, angel?” he asks, shifting hair out of my face.
“Yes,” I mumble, too tired to even speak.
He fists a handful of hair and hauls my head back to look into my sleepy eyes. “You need to rest, and I need to make us dinner. You must be famished.”
“Are we going to fuck?” I ask meekly.
“Ah, there’s my delicate little angel,” he softly teases and leans in to kiss me on the tip of my nose. “No, we aren’t going to fuck. This was about pleasing you.”
I don’t hate that.
“You know, I never claimed to be an angel, slick.”
He traces his finger down my nose and over my lips, staring deeply into my eyes. “You’re my angel, my filthy, defiant angel. And, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Glutton
It was a long day at work. With Olivia gone, everyone was scrambling to keep things running smoothly, but as the day wore on, things started to settle into place. There was a memo stating that a new Editor-in-Chief would be announced soon. Eliza Prescott, Olivia’s second-in-command, took over her position for now. She seems to have a pretty good handle on things, so we all assume it will be her. However, knowing Hunt, he’ll want someone who has experience leading a magazine.
At five, I head down to the lobby alone, ready to go straight home as I’d promised Hunt I would this morning. Hunt had to work late and he’s been on high alert lately with the wedding just on the horizon. He thinks Dante may attempt something.
I asked Chase to hang with me, but he had plans with Maya, so he left work early. They’ve been seeing a lot of each other lately. It shouldn’t be long before he asks her to go steady.
I’m exiting the building when I receive a text. I grab my cell from my purse and check the screen. It’s from Walker.
Shit.
I open it and my eyes fly open.
From: Walker
To: Ellie
Look up.
Received:
Wed July 23rd, 2014 5:07 PM
I hesitantly glance up, finding him standing beside Scarlett, my baby. He’s in a plain black tee, faded jeans, and worn leather boots, his uniform. He looks really good, and I know once he opens his mouth, I’ll end up doing whatever he asks of me.
I slowly walk up to him and say with a bit of a tone, “Why are you here, Walk?”
He cocks his head.
“Is dat any way to greet an old mate?” He asks with that delicious fucking brogue.
“Hello, Walker.”
“Much better. Now, how ‘bout a hug?”
“How about a friendly handshake?”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “Same ol’ feisty Gigi. Why don’t you and I go grab us a drink at the pub?”
“Alcohol and you?” I cross my arms and shake my head. “Not a smart mix.”
He smirks at me with his sexy, playful grin. “Afraid I’ll steal ye from yer little boyfriend?”
Apparently, he hasn’t heard the news, or he’s choosing to ignore it. It hasn’t exactly been a secret. The newspapers and blogs have been all over the wedding, when it’s happening, where it’s happening, who I’m wearing. It’s been exhausting having them at our every move and doesn’t help to keep us well hidden from Dante.
“Actually…”
I try to get the words out, but he cuts me off. “Come on, love, come have a little drink with me.”
Well, I do need to talk to him, and if I only have one drink, I can keep a sober eye on him.
“Fine, one drink,” I state, holding up a finger to drive the point home. “We have to talk anyway, and now’s as good a time as any.”
“Great,” he replies, grabbing the keys out of my hand. “I’ll drive.”
“I don’t think that’s a wise decision.”
He ignores me and opens the passenger door for me. “Get in, Gigi. I’ll take good care of her, I promise.”
“Hmmm,” I contemplate. “Fine, but I still don’t like it.”
I wonder how Hunt would react if he saw me with Walker, with him driving Scar. He would have a fucking aneurysm, punish me, and kill Walk. I shake the thought.
When I come out of my head, we’re headed up Hyde St. to my ex-watering hole, in my ex-neighborhood, around the corner from my ex-apartment, with my ex-boyfriend. This brings back memories of our glory days.
Before long, we are parking outside McClain’s Pub and heading inside. We find a booth in the front, near the stunning stained glass window, and Walker goes to the bar to order our poisons. I wait anxiously, ready to get this awful talk out of the way. He really was there for me when I needed him, but he needs to understand that we truly will never be.
When he arrives back at the table, he sets my whiskey neat in front of me.
“Dat’s a strong drink for a bitty thin’ such as yourself.”
Besides wine and champagne, this is Hunt’s favorite drink. It’s stupid, but I feel better holding it in my hands, as if, in some weird way, it’s him holding my hand.
“Yeah, Hunt turned me onto it,” I reply honestly, taking the slightest of sips.
“Oh, I see,” he murmurs, twirling the contents of his drink with a few twists of his wrist. “Well, it’s good
to see ye, love. It’s been a minute.”
He takes a swig, inhaling half the contents of his amber-hued liquor.
“Yes,” I nod my head in agreement, “it has. A lot has happened since I last saw you.”
“Aye, the boyfriend,” he says into his glass. His brow pops up when he says the word, ‘Boyfriend’.
“Actually, he’s…”
“How’s work treatin’ ye?” he asks, interrupting my attempt.
“Work is work. I enjoy it, but it’s been hectic the past few days. How’s the painting going? Hopefully, you’ve found yourself a new muse.”
He lets out a quick, ha, and answers, “Aye, it’s goin’ really well…I have another show comin’ up in a few months.”
“That’s great, Walk. I’m happy for you…Speaking of being happy…”
I really want to tell him, but he keeps deflecting the topic. “How’ve ye been since yer da’s passing?”
Great, this is just what I wanted to talk about.
“Um, much better, thank you. But, I mean, it still hurts. I’ve been taking it one day at a time.” This is it, now or never. I’m going to get this out if it kills us both, and it just may. “Honestly, I’ve been so busy these past few months I haven’t really had time to think about it. The reason I’ve been so busy is…”
“I’m sorry you’ve had to…”
“Walker, will you please let me talk?” I snap. “I’m trying to tell you something.”
“You mean that yer gettin’ hitched,” he says with a blasé tone.
“How did you find out?” I inquire; though, I know it’s a stupid question.
He points to my hand. “The ring on yer finger was a pretty big clue.”
I glimpse down at the rock on my hand and blush from embarrassment. I can’t believe I’ve been sitting here like a fool, trying to tell him something that was right in his face the whole time, gleaming proudly on that most significant finger.
“Ya’d have to be fuckin’ blind not to see that thin’. Plus, the fact dat it’s been absolutely everywhere I go.”
“So, you understand, then?”
“I understand,” he replies, nodding his head and taking the last sip from his glass. “How much time do I have to convince ye, yer makin’ a huge fuckin’ mistake?”
“It’s this Saturday, and I wouldn’t push it, Walk.”
“Ah, I don’t have much time, then.”
He reaches across the table for my hand, but I pull it away quickly, foiling his attempt to woo and seduce.
“It doesn’t matter how much time you have, you will never convince me that I’m making the wrong choice,” I state with concrete conviction.
“That’s a matter of opinion.” He leans back in his seat, tossing an arm along the back of the booth, and stares with a cocky, raised brow. And, it infuriates me.
“You are the cockiest bastard I have ever met!” I grab my purse and slide out of the booth. “I don’t have to take this from you. I’m out.”
“Gigi, wait, don’t go.” He tries to grab for my hand again as I walk past him, but I rip it away and turn on him.
“No! No, don’t tell me what to do. You have some nerve coming into my life to mess with things when I’m starting to find my way. I’m happy, but you’re more concerned with some dick measuring contest with Hunt.”
“Ellie, love, I…”
“No, Walker, it’s my turn to talk…You show up at my office building with your worn boots, cocky smile, and Irish accent, and think you can convince me to what, runaway with you? Get real, McQueen, we ain’t gonna happen!”
“Gabri…”
I turn, waving him off. “Goodbye, Walker.”
“How am I gonna get home?” he calls after me.
“Not my problem, Walk…FYI, he’s bigger,” I wickedly call back.
I break free out the door and take a deep breath, relieved that the whole awful ordeal is over with, but it’s short-lived. I glance up toward the street, and standing where my car was parked is Hunt with an angry scowl on his face.
“What are you doing here?” I inquire, wide-eyed.
“I’d like to know the exact same thing…Where is he?” he asks with a calm, cold manner.
“Where’s who, Damian?” I try to feign stupid, but I know who he’s referring to, and he knows I know.
“Don’t play games with me, Gabrielle.” I hear the irritation in his voice. “Banks followed you two here.”
“He’s still inside,” I nod toward the bar. “But, there’s no need to confront him.”
“Why was he driving your car, the car I bought for you?”
“I, um…” Shit! Mayday, mayday! “I let him drive.”
“Unacceptable,” he says with a forbidding tone and turns around to the Land Rover behind him, opening the door for me. I want to stomp my feet and tell him what’s what, but I know that would only upset him more. So, I walk over to the car and hop in, buckling up and waiting for him to enter the car, but he doesn’t. Instead, he walks toward the bar, and when I try to get out to argue with him, he shoots me a cool glare over his shoulder before entering. I clamber back into the car and shut the door, staring with terrified fascination.
I wait impatiently, twiddling my fingers and uncontrollably shaking my leg. My eyes bore into the door. Every time it opens, I became alert, stiffening and sitting up at attention. But, with each person to emerge, I find myself disappointed and sink back into my seat. I find it harder and harder to just sit here like some dog ordered to heel.
I clasp my hand onto the door handle, about to pull on it, when Damian comes out in a huff. I guess Walker got to him again, which I empathize with, as it’s impossible to keep your cool with him. He has a way of being able to push just the right buttons to set you over the edge.
Hunt walks about the front of the SUV and slides inside. He doesn’t say a word or even look at me.
We make it back to Artemis twenty minutes later, but it feels like forever. Hunt hasn’t spoken a word to me since he ordered me into the car. I don’t think he so much as glanced at me.
We’re standing in the elevator, silently riding it up, but there’s a tension in the air, making it impossible to breathe. I’m becoming antsy. I can’t stand this torturous waiting. I know he will punish me, but when, how? I actually feel myself becoming angry that he’s putting me through this.
I mean, what did I do wrong? I let Walker drive my car. Not the worst thing ever. I had a drink with him, a drink I didn’t even finish. That’s not the smartest thing I’ve done lately, but I was in no real danger with him. It’s Walker. Sure, he can be flirtatious but he’s no real threat.
Finally, the doors open, and I’m able to make my escape for my bedroom. I practically bolt for the stairs. But, just as I’m about to put my foot on the first step, he says, “Gabrielle, just where is it you think you’re going?”
“To my room,” I reply with a slight tone.
“No, you are not,” he states, with a few shakes of the head and his hands placed behind his back. His stance is wide and stiff. It’s Hunt. But, I’m in no mood to do this now.
“Yes, I am.”
I rush up the stairs as quickly as my feet will carry me. I’m about to make it to my door when Hunt’s large hand scoops about my stomach and pulls me into him. I fight and struggle with him, but he simply holds onto me.
“Get off me, Hunt, now!” I push at his chest, but it’s useless.
“Do you promise to be a good girl and behave yourself? Are you going to try to run away again?” he asks in an almost condescending voice.
“Fine, yes, whatever,” I spout out.
“Fine, yes, whatever?” he inquires with a disapproving look in his intense, green eyes.
“Yes, sir,” I practically spit out at him. He releases me and, does something I’m not expecting, he smirks down at me.
“There’s my feisty little Elle. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her.”
“Well, I didn’t really do anything wrong an
d don’t feel I should be punished. I barely had a drink and I had everything under control.”
“Gabrielle, I’m disappointed in your actions with Mr. McQueen, but this is not why I’m upset with you.”
“Well, then, what are you…” I remember my promise to him, my promise to come straight home after work.
Shit!
“There it is,” he says as clarity washes over my face.
“I know I promised, but…”
“But? There should be no ‘but’ in that sentence. You promised me that you would come back home after work, but, instead, you go traipsing about town with Mr. McQueen, and to a bar of all places. You broke three rules in one swoop, which are not following directions, making an unwise decision when I’m not present, and not admitting your misbehaviors.
“Then, on top of all of your indiscretions, you put yourself in harm’s way. What would I do if anything happened to you? Really, Gabrielle, tsk, tsk,” he reprimands with a few shakes of his head. His eerily calm voice and manner chill me to the bone.
“What are you going to do to me?” I ask with a noticeable tremble in my voice.
I know that I’ve done wrong, and Damian doesn’t punish unless he feels I’ve truly overstepped a line, but this doesn’t give me much solace.
“You will go into your room, shut the door, and undress. Once you’ve stripped down, you will kneel in front of the bed and wait for my arrival, with your head down, arms behind your back, and legs spread open for me. Is this understood, Miss Hyde?”
I want to dispute him and stomp away, but I know that I must obey or my punishment will only worsen.
“Yes, Mr. Hunt,” I answer weakly.
“Good. Now, go.” He nods his head toward my door, dismissing me.
I turn to open the door and step inside my bedroom in double time, quickly shutting the door behind me. I kick off my shoes and strip down on my way to the bed, carelessly tossing my clothes in every which direction, allowing them to land where they may. Once I’m bare, I drop to the floor and kneel as he instructed. My legs are wide open, revealing myself to him as soon as he walks through the door.