He downed his next drink. I watched him for a moment, and then went to the door. “I should go.”
He didn’t try to stop me. “Let me walk you to your car.”
“No. That’s okay.” I opened the door and looked back at him. His expression appeared torn. Like he felt he should walk me out, but wanted to take me up on my offer to go alone. “Really, it’s okay Hunter.”
He let out a long sigh. “I like the painting outfit.” His lips twitched up briefly and while it wasn’t a smile, it felt like the old Hunter was back.
That night when I got back to my place, I wasn't quite ready to go to bed. I went to my easel, pulled out a blank canvas, and began to sketch. At first, I wasn't quite sure what I was doing, but before long, I could see the strong lines of Hunter's jaw and the fierceness yet vulnerability in his eyes that I’d seen tonight.
Soon I was sketching all of him by memory. But instead drawing the normal broody sadness of his mouth that I usually saw, I drew in the cocky, arrogant one. The one that made him so sexy.
I stood back, feeling satisfied that I’d caught the essence of Hunter. If I focused on it, maybe it could get it completed in time for the gallery showing that he was setting up for me. I wondered what he'd think if I used it as a showpiece.
15
Hunter
My first experience with the total devastation at losing a loved one could bring, was when my mother died. My brothers and I were all in agreement that dad had never ever fully recovered from that loss, and while he came around and began to live again, he still wasn’t over losing her, and he’d never let another woman in.
There are many ways to experience loss, and my mother’s death wasn't the only time I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest. The day of my father's accident, I was reminded of that. I was also reminded that it was something that I needed to avoid. It was one of the reasons I lived my life the way I did.
That evening after my father's accident, when I saw Natalie in the hotel, I couldn't get a grip on all the emotions that were swirling through me. The only thing I knew was I needed help in corralling it all back together, and it seemed like the best way to do that was by drowning myself in Natalie. I wanted to escape the feelings, and instead immerse myself in touch and taste, and sexual satisfaction.
It had been working, until I got the feeling that she was being compassionate with me. She was trying to help me soothe my soul, and there was something about that that I couldn't endure. Being with her was all about the sex. That was all it could be about.
By the time we were done, I felt like I had achieved my goal, and at the same time still felt completely unsettled. Because it was important for me to maintain some distance between us, I negotiated an agreement whereby we would only see each other in hotel rooms. I wouldn't go to her
place, and she wouldn't come to mine. I also made sure that there would be no overnights. I wouldn't take her out for a meal. There would be nothing about this arrangement that might feel like a date or a growing relationship.
On the one hand, it made me feel like a complete asshole to set things up like that. Not only was it a jerk thing to do to make sure that this was only just a physical relationship, but I knew Natalie well enough now to know that she deserved better than me. Natalie was filled with light and effervescence. She was sweet and smart and creative. She was the opposite of everything that I was, and there was a part of me that worried that I would dim the light in her by being around her. Of course, that concern didn't stop me from engaging in our friends with benefits relationship.
As the weeks went by, we settled into a regular routine. At work we were able to maintain a professional distance, and as I watched her work, I acknowledged that she was very good at her job. I also realized that perhaps I'd been too focused on my own ideas and not being open to the ideas of others of my team. I'd always prided myself in not being a micromanager. I felt like I hired the top-notch people and let them do what they did best. But in watching her work, and then seeing the materials she and the team were sending my way, I realized that the team always worked within the confines of the boundaries I set for them. I had given them a free reign within the bumper rails.
Natalie managed them quite differently. She encouraged all ideas, even bad ones, some of which were tweaked into good ones. The work she and her team were producing was showing that I hadn't maximized all the talent that I had with the people I hired.
When we weren't working, we would steal an hour or two sometimes during the day, sometimes in the evening, at a hotel not far from the office. I always looked forward to these interludes. In fact, I eagerly anticipated them, and it dawned on me that it felt a little too much like an addiction. I liked sex, and I liked the semi-state of arousal in anticipation of seeing her. But after a while it didn't just feel like in anticipation of sex. It felt headier than that. More needy. More important than that. The idea that I might be getting addicted to her scared the shit out of me. So much so that I tried to take a break from seeing her, and of course, that was impossible. So, I tried to reduce the amount of time I spent with her, but that was impossible too.
If it was only sex that I was craving, I’d probably be okay with this insatiable need for her. But it wasn't just the sex. I enjoyed spending time with Natalie. Yes, most the time we were together, it didn’t involve too much talking, unless it was related to fucking. But more and more, when the deed was done, as we caught our breaths, we'd lay together and chat, and I was growing more and more attached to those moments with her.
Natalie had a body to die for and a wild spirit that made her exciting in the bedroom. That same spirit was how she lived her life, which was inspiring to watch. But at the same time there was a vulnerability about her that seemed to bring out a protective instinct in me. For a woman who seemed to glide to the world with copious amounts of self-confidence, she had moments of self-doubt that often would surprise me. I found myself looking forward to the gallery event and boosting her feelings of self-worth and confidence in her work.
But alone at night in my own bed, all these thoughts and feelings scared the hell out of me. It felt too much like I was growing attached to her and that could not happen. Not at all. Not ever. Life had given me several hard lessons on how dangerous it could be to love somebody. So no, I couldn't grow attached to her.
I was reminding myself of all of this as I stepped up to the door of the suite at the hotel where Natalie and I were scheduled to meet. Like a mantra, I reminded myself; go in, give her a couple orgasms, come myself, and then leave. Go in, give her a couple orgasms, come myself, and then leave.
I knocked on the door, and when it opened my mantra along with every single other thought, except for the one that said I needed to fuck her, left my brain. She stood there in sexy lingerie that my dick responded to full tilt. I wouldn’t be surprised if the head was pushing out of the waistband of my pants, I was so hard.
She swung the door open and stepped aside giving me room to come into the space. I let out a low growl as my hand slid low around her back and I tugged her hard against me. There would be no wine and roses or romance, no sweet words of seduction. No, we were here for one thing and one thing only; to give and get orgasms.
Thinking about that made me feel like a douchebag as Natalie deserved more than these clandestine moments. But I pushed that away as I crushed my lips against hers, feeding the sexual fuel firing in my blood.
"You are so fucking sexy," I murmured as my lips trailed along her jaw and then lightly tugged on her earlobe making her shiver.
We shouldn’t work. In most situations we didn’t. We butted heads. But when we stopped talking and instead started touching, it was perfection.
"Is this new?" I asked, my voice husky as I ran my fingers under the strap of the hot teddy she wore. I pulled the skimpy string strap down over her shoulder. I lowered my head trailing soft kisses from her neck along her shoulder, loving the soft moans she’d make, and the way her body would shudder against mine.
"Yes. I know how sometimes you need some extra help to get it up."