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“By the way,” I reach into my tote. “I wanted to ask you for something.”
He immediately sits up, intrigued. “You want me to take you shopping?”
I run my tongue over my teeth before saying carefully, “No.”
I walk over to him and hand him one of the tickets that I received for the exhibition. My voice is a little awkward, but I say the words anyway.
“Since we’re dating now, I thought I would invite you on our official first date.”
“Our first date was in Paris.”
“That was not a first date,” I tell him. “That was a seduction.”
“And a damn good one,” he agrees, smiling devilishly.
God, he’s so handsome.
“So, now you want me to accompany you to the exhibition?” He questions. “I thought you were dead set against the idea.”
“Well,” I answer, fidgeting with my blouse. “This event is important to me, and you said we’re dating.“
“Wearedating,” Hunter confirms. “In public and in private, you are mine, Megan.”
“Okay.” I blush at the possessive look in his eyes. “Well, as I said, it’s an important night for me, and I want you there, but only as my date. You’re not coming as Hunter Middleton, the businessman or patron of the arts. No making deals on my behalf with rich people over drinks or anything. I can do that on my own. I just want you to be there next to me. You know… like arm candy,” I tease.
“I see.” He takes the ticket from me, and I see a strange emotion cloud his eyes, one I can’t define.
“It’ll be boring,” I warn him, but he stands up, bowing his head to kiss me, almost achingly gentle.
“No, it won’t. Thank you for the invitation.”
I’m so used to his dominating behavior that this kind of gentle treatment flusters me.
“Don’t make a big deal about it,” I mumble, and he lets out a light chuckle.
“I’m not, but it’s a first for me.”
“To be invited to an exhibition?” I ask, unclear of what he means.
“No,” He looks down at the ticket in his hands. “To be invited somewhere not because of what I can do for you, but because you simply want my company.”
It never dawned on me that Hunter was wary of relationships with women for those reasons, but now that he mentions it, it makes sense that women probably try to use him for his money, especially the kinds of women that frequent the Blue Whiskey.
I find myself standing on my tiptoes to press a kiss on his cheek. “You’d better dress nice. Remember, you’re my arm candy for the night and a reflection of me.”
The next thing I know, I’m laying supine on the couch with a large hand under my blouse, freeing one of my breasts from my bra.
“You’re going to be the death of me, Megan,” he growls deliciously.
“That’s Miss Taylor when we’re in the office,” I say as wetness quickly dampens my panties.
“Get on your knees and lean over the back of the couch, Miss Taylor,” he growls possessively. “And spread those thighs wide.”
I know we shouldn’t do this. It’s too early in the evening. Anyone could walk in and catch us, but I don’t seem to care as I do what I’m told, anxiously awaiting the bliss that is about to push its way inside of me.
As I grip the edge of the sofa, Hunter pushes my skirt up to my waist, slides the crotch of my panties to the side, and enters me swiftly. The sudden feeling of fullness leaves me utterly breathless.
“Your pussy is as dangerous as you are.” He says as he strokes deeper inside of me.