Chapter 16 Artist’s Choice #2
“You taught her a lesson she never wanted to learn, but was eventually going to, that her beauty didn’t make her omnipotent.
Although I’d never want you to go through that, ever, because that had to suck huge, it’s good she learned it now.
She won’t always be beautiful. It’s better she knows that now before she hits forty, forty-five, and starts becoming invisible, as women often do.
If she settles that deep into thinking her walking into a room will mean the world will be laid at her feet, bones get brittle with age, and it would crush her when she takes that fall. ”
“Not exactly glad to be of service, but you’re right,” he replied.
“I’m just going to say, I had a really bad breakup before I came to Misted Pines.” She put that right out there too. “I’m not looking for a relationship. You’re interesting.” She smiled. “You can be grouchy, but even that’s interesting.”
He frowned at her out of habit.
She smiled bigger.
And kept talking.
“What I’m saying is, I’d like to get to know you better. As a friend. Not a fuck buddy, something more, but I’m not looking for that.” A ghost of dejection chased itself over her face before it vanished. “I don’t know if I’ll ever look for it again, my breakup was so…drama.”
She didn’t know it, but he knew it was.
Her voice dropped. “But we’re good together in that way. I’m not an idiot. I know feelings can change. But you aren’t looking for it. I’m not looking for it. We know the score before we’ve entered the game, and we both win. So, why not?”
Oh yeah.
Why the fuck not?
You know why not, asshole, his brain fired at him.
Her gaze went back to the fireplace, and she mumbled, “Okay, I kinda can’t believe I’m sitting here trying to talk a guy into fucking me.”
“Babe,” he called.
She looked to him.
“I want you in my life,” he told her, and he watched the warmth hit her eyes and could actually see her holding her breath. “So you gotta agree to one rule.”
She nodded.
“Shit starts turning for you, you tell me, same my way, then we back off and protect,”—now it was him waving his hand between them—“this.”
“I can agree to that,” she said softly.
Her voice, face, hair…that dress.
Her.
“One more rule,” he said.
“What?”
“I agree friends with benefits, not fuck buddies, but it’s exclusive. You find someone else, you cut me loose.”
The ghost of something else moved over her face, he read it, but he refused to categorize it.
“I can do that too,” she agreed.
They sat there and stared at each other.
Moxie, smart cat that she was, felt the vibe and jumped from his lap.
Hutch broke their staring to put his glass down.
When he sat back, he’d barely locked eyes with her again before they were across the couch, in each other’s arms, and attacking each other’s mouths.
Having had her, knowing how much there was to have, and spending so much time wanting her and thinking he’d never get this again, Hutch had no hope of finessing this.
So it was good to learn she’d been experiencing the same thing.
The foreplay started on the couch, lasted across the floor, where her dress and his shirt were discarded.
It wound up the stairs, where their boots and socks were left.
It continued across her bedroom, where she lost her bra, and he shucked his jeans.
And it fell across her bed.
They barely landed before he hiked her up so her head was hanging over the opposite side, he grasped her behind her knees, pushing them up and out, and he buried his face in her pretty, wet pussy.
Her hand fisted in his hair, her legs tensed in his hold, using it to rock herself up to force him deeper.
He didn’t need the invitation, but he took the opportunity.
He had his tongue buried inside her when she panted, “You, you, you.”
He left her to reach his jeans, dragged them to him, pulled out his wallet, the strip of condoms, tore one off and then opened it, rolled it on, and turned to her.
He was inside her before his weight fully hit her.
Oh yeah.
Zero finesse.
She didn’t mind in the slightest.
He watched her neck arch and felt her back do it as her pussy clutched his dick.
He clamped an arm around her hips to hold her steady, rested a forearm on the bed so he wouldn’t crush her, and Hutch rode her, hard and rough, never taking his eyes from her face, or eventually her eyes when she latched onto his hair with a death grip and her gaze egged him to fuck her faster, rougher, harder.
He gave it to her, and to him.
He shifted his hips to find the right spot, drove hard, and her mouth opened in a silent moan as she took one fist out of his hair to embed her nails into his back, and he felt her cunt convulse around his driving cock.
She got hers, thank fuck, he let go and took his on a heavy grunt and a long groan.
Good Christ, even off the hook, no skill, no control, she was the best fuck he’d ever had.
Or maybe it was because of all of that.
He kissed her neck, her chest, pulled out and rolled to his back, digging an arm under her to curl her to his side.
They were both breathing heavily.
Even so, she pushed out, “I approve of the mustache.”
Hutch’s lips hitched with amusement. “Good to know.”
“You give great head.”
“Not sure how you’d know. I was only goin’ down on you for ten second before you demanded my cock.”
“Excuse me, it was more like fifteen seconds,” she disputed.
He was in too good of a mood to argue, even if he knew she was joking. “Okay, fifteen.”
“And you didn’t at all avoid that area the last time,’ she pointed out.
No, he hadn’t.
Not at all.
She pushed up, resting a hand on his chest, and looked down on him.
“Admit it, Hutch. I’m a genius.”
“I’ll admit it, even if I don’t know what you’re genius at.”
She grinned big.
Her hair a mess from sex, her lips swollen, her eyes bright.
She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“This friends with benefits thing is gonna rock,” she decreed.
It was going to be a disaster.
But taking in her shining, sated eyes, feeling her happy vibe, he knew, if she wanted him, he was going to give himself to her, give this feeling to her, taking her in return, for as long as it took for it to blow up in both of their faces.
Because Ranger Emmett “Hutch” Hutchison could no sooner stop himself from spreading harm and misery to the people he cared about than he could quit breathing.
It was in the genes.