There is no hesitation in her actions. Bee grabs at the neckline of Hunter's shirt, pulling him closer to her, then nipping at his bottom lip. He growls in her mouth, enticing a deep tremor in her centre.
The calluses of his fingers rasp against the sensitive skin of her back, wet from the lines of water dripping down from her hair. The searing heat of his touch causes a shiver down her spine. He wants her, and it's all the aphrodisiac she needs.
Blanche closes her eyes and lets herself feel.
With trembling fingers, she traces the strong column of his neck, the curve of his collarbones, and the sculpt of his chest. Then she leaves her hands resting over the beat of his heart. In the deep recesses of her mind, memories filter out. She remembers every inch of him during their first coupling, recalls the taste of his skin, and the feel of his hard length inside her.
Hunter releases her lips and nips at the smooth skin of her neck. His fingers find their way around her swollen belly meanders over her hips, and between her thighs. A trickle of wetness streaks down from where he palms her, with pressure so light, yet it engages her nerve endings. His mouth and teeth have found her nipples, eagerly poking out and yearning for him.
"I want you. I want you now." She knows she said the words but she doesn't recognize her own voice. Her body is heated through, aching to be filled by him, demanding the release she's craved.
Hunter meets with her lips again, murmuring, "I want you too, but I'm--" He releases a heavy sigh, and leans against her forehead. "--I'm afraid." His hand, trapped between her legs, pauses. "I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt our baby."
Blanche shakes her head. She squeezes her eyes shut, then blinks them open, and she finds his trained at her. "You won't. I checked with the doctor."
"Are you sure? I didn't... when did you ask him?" His fingers begin their assault against her slit, jolting her senses awake.
"Last time I was there," she tells him between pants.
When he tilts his head, his hot breath blows on the shell of her ear, when he whispers, "I don't remember you asking."
"You weren't there." Her hands are back to their exploration of his torso, now pulling at the hem of his shirt, trailing along the taut muscles underneath it.
Hunter grips her hands, steadying them in between their bodies. "When was the last time you saw the doctor?"
Shit, Blanche curses internally. A pressure has built inside her core. She forces herself to breathe, and tries to figure out a way to salvage the moment. If she doesn't get her release, she feels as though she will explode.
"The last appointment, you said it had to be rescheduled. Was that a lie?"
Blanche hangs her head. "I went without you," is all she will admit.
"Why did you tell me it was cancelled, Blanche?" Hunter's voice is low, but firm, and she can detect the slight hint of hurt in it.
She looks up to him, tugging her hands away from his. "Isn't it obvious?"
His toned arms fold over his chest. "No, it isn't. Why don't you tell me?"
Hunter steps back. Without the warmth of his body, the chill on her skin is immediate. With an exasperated breath, she picks up her robe, shrugs it back on and walks towards her bedroom, ignoring the sharp, quiet curse from Hunter.
"Blanche, stop, please." The pleading tone in his voice halts her mid-step. "I deserve to be a part of it as much as you. That's my child you're carrying. I thought we were in it together."
Incredulous, she turns back to him, lashing out, "We? There has never been a 'we', Hunter! It has only been you. You and your work. You and friend, Red. You and the other woman you had sex with on that damn couch. You, Hunter. There is no 'we'." She points an accusatory finger at him. "You're self-centered, selfish, man whore!" Blanche knows she's said too much. Hunter's face hardens. A muscle on his clenched jaw twitches. But she doesn't back down. It's too late. She's done this before, with Perry, but this time, facing Hunter, she doesn't feel scared. Deep down, she knows that Hunter will not hurt her. So is it right for her to hurt him?
They stand frozen on their spots. His eyes do not leave hers. She retracts her finger, twists her hands together and places them on top of her stomach, where earlier that day, she has felt the first movement of her child. Their child. The prickle of tears behind her eyes makes her move away from Hunter, and returns back into her bedroom, slamming the door shut.
She stays inside, on her bed, curled into a fetal position. Blanche fights back the tears. Her head needs to be clear to think.
Perry enters her mind.
What he has done to her is unforgivable. It has etched itself into her thoughts. She's licked her wounds. The cuts and bruises have long disappeared, together with whatever feeling she had for Perry. What she didn't let go is the pride within her, the love for herself.
If a man who has told her for years that he loved her and only her has lied, how can she trust a man she's only known a few months? Can she believe Hunter is wholly invested in it with her and their child? The people who've known him longer have asked her to give him a chance. Hell, even her own best friend has told her the same. And Trisha, worried about Blanche's mother's appearance, has even turned to Hunter for help.
The grumble in her stomach is something she cannot ignore anymore. She needs to eat. But if she goes out, what will she face? What kind of person is waiting for her beyond the door?
"Face the music, Blanche," her mother has often advised her.
As she sits up, Bee hears movements coming from the living room. A scraping on the floor? She pads to the door, pressing her ear on it. Blanche can only hear mumbles and more movements, then of a door closing. Blanche backs away from the door, stares at it. Tentatively, she touches the knob. With a deep breath in, she opens it and peeks out.
The rest of the apartment seems empty. There's no sign of Hunter. She hurries out to the kitchen, grabs a bowl and fills it with pasta and the lukewarm sauce in a pot. Then, with her tail between her legs, she locks herself in her bedroom, devouring the pasta within minutes while waiting for the noise to return.
Something nags at her. The apartment was too empty. Void. The couch! How did she not see it right away?
Blanche drops the empty bowl on her dresser and swings the door open again. She stands at the threshold, staring at the empty spot where the couch has once been, when Hunter walks back into their apartment.
Their eyes meet once again. As if she's being pulled by his gaze, she takes careful steps forward. "What did you do to the couch?"
Hunter combs back his growing hair with his fingers. "I got rid of it."
"You got rid of it? By yourself?"
"No." He cocks his head to the side. "I asked Terrence downstairs to help me out."
"Where is it?"
"In the back alley."
She waits for further explanations, but none comes. "Why did you get rid of it?"
Hunter sighs, looking like he has given up. "It obviously disturbs you. You didn't like it. You didn't like what you thought I was doing on it, which, to be clear again, I wasn't. I wanted to. I intended to, but I didn't. It means something to you. I can just imagine how much you hated seeing it everyday, thinking that I've betrayed you."
Betrayed. Is that how she feels? To have felt betrayal, shouldn't there be trust first? She trusted Hunter, right from the start, that's clear enough. Bee stares at him, studies him, scrutinizes his every movement. The slight flicker of shyness in his eyes, the peeking out of his tongue to lick the corner of his lips, the large open hands before her. This is him. Hunter. The sensitive artist in his own inked skin. The man who was tender, fervent and passionate all at the same time when they made... a child together. The man who's checked on her every single night, regardless what time he has come home, and possibly also has listened to her movements in the morning as she gets ready for work. Hunter, who has sent her flowers to apologize. Hunter, who has cooked meals for her. He isn't just a man who is putting up with her because she's pregnant with his child. He wants her to meet his parents. His brother and sister-in-law have treated her like family, and through that, is an extension of who the man in front of her truly is. Hunter, who looked bewildered and awed as he listened to his child's heartbeat.
This time, she will not let anything stop her. Them.
Blanche wraps her hands over the back of his neck and opens her lips, and her heart to Hunter. He says nothing. He takes it all in, letting her taste him, her tongue dancing with his. She stands on her tiptoes and pulls herself up. Without words, he carries her into the bedroom.
****
There is a single source of light in the bedroom. Hunter carefully lays Blanche on the soft cotton bedspread, and sits back on his haunches. Her legs are draped over his thighs. Her feet are resting a behind him.
She's the embodiment of beauty. In his eyes, she is without flaw. She's a warrior. She's a saint. She is full of wisdom and filled with ferocity.
Once again, Hunter opens up her robe, but he keeps his gaze locked with hers. He supports himself with one arm. A hand pressed on the mattress, while the other trails the shape of her face, the contours of her mouth. He has a clear, concise picture of her in his mind, which he sees night after night. But he has only opened his eyes to that vision now. Admitted that it has only been her in his dreams. But those dreams are nothing compared to what is before him. The real Blanche, inhaling and exhaling under him, tantalizing him with her dark eyes and her red lips.
"Hunter." It is a plea.
He pushes up, and stands by the foot of the bed. Hunter pulls off his shirt and discards the rest of his clothes quickly. A lump in his throat forms. He presents himself to Blanche, unclothed, unashamed. Hunter joins her on the bed, lying beside her. With a nudge of his hand to tilt her head, he kisses her again, deeper, needier. His hand moves down her breasts, cupping and flicking. Down further, aligned with her navel and the swell of her belly, past it and where he wants to be.
Blanche adjusts her legs to open up more to him. She squirms at the first touch. He feels the moistened heat. She's as ready as she'll ever be.
"I need a... condom," Hunter tells her, breaking from their passionate kiss.
"I'm already pregnant with your baby." There's a bit of humour in her tone.
Hunter shakes his head. "I've never been with anyone without it."
"You're clean then?"
"Of course."
Blanche kisses him chastely before saying, "Then I think we're ready."
She faces away from him, lining herself up against his erection. The grip of her hand almost does him in. Hunter nibbles at the sweet spot on her neck and it elicits a purr from Bee's mouth. With a hand lifting her leg up over his, she guides him in. Inch by inch, he feels the fever within her, wrapping around his hardened length. Once she's satisfied with how much she has, Blanche grabs his buttocks and silently orders him to push. Pull and push, and move against her soft behind. He holds onto her hip with one hand, and the other pulls her flushed against him. They breathe, pant, and moan together.
When Hunter feels her tightening even more, he knows she's close. She's ready to fly over the edge. He hurries his motions and sinks deeper. Blanche lifts a hand and tugs at his hair, hard.
"Come for me, Bee. Let go, baby, let go," he whispers in her ear. And she does.
Her inner muscles massage and squeeze him. The warmth and wetness surrounds him. Hunter feels the scrape of Blanche's nails on the side of his hip, as he finds his release. A shattering climax that throws both of them into a trance.
They hold onto each other, neither one willing to move or talk. All they can do is breathe in each other, and listen to their dancing hearts.
****
A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Part two coming soon.
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