A Slow Boil (25 page)

“Switch places.”  I rolled him off of me, pushed him down on
his back, and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips.  I sat up,
running my hands over his chest.

“You, my dear Mr. Hunter, intimidated me when I met you.”  I
leaned down and touched my mouth barely to his, not kissing him, just feeling
his lips with mine.  “I thought you were so handsome,” I whispered, “but
scary and mysterious.”  I started slowly unbuttoning his shirt.  “The
whole first week I worked here I tiptoed everywhere, afraid you’d hear
me.”  I kissed his beautiful jaw with my mouth open, savoring the feel of
his scruff under my lips.  His hands were slowly moving from my rear down
my thighs and back again.

“I knew I wanted you the night you fed me some mousse.  It
felt like you’d kissed me, and I wanted you to kiss me.”  I had his shirt
unbuttoned and he sat up enough that I could pull it off him.  He reached
for the hem of my t-shirt and pulled it over my head. I undid my bra and
dropped it to the floor.  His hands came up from my waist to cup my
breasts, his expression one of almost worship.  I slowly unclasped his
belt, my hands a little shaky as his fingers worked their magic on my nipples.

I scooted back just far enough to pull his pants and boxers
down.  I licked the length of his penis as I crawled back up his body,
lightly drawing my naked chest up along his, until I was back to his
face.  His eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily.  I loved
having this effect on him, it drove me wild, the best aphrodisiac in the
world.  I licked his earlobe and whispered, “I fell in love with you the
first time I heard you play the piano.”  I kissed and licked the sensitive
spot I knew he had just under his ear.  “I fell in love with you the first
time I heard you laugh.”  I rubbed my chest lightly on his, letting him
feel my erect nipples.  “I fell in love with you the first time you fed me
with your fingers.”  I pressed myself down on his erection.  “I fell
in love with you the first time you called me your princess.”  I pulled up
and kissed him deeply, my hands tugging in his hair, angling his head so I
could kiss him even more deeply.  “I fell in love with you the first night
you carried me to bed.”

His eyes were still closed, but his hands began frantically
working at the waistband of my shorts.  I got up just long enough to yank
them off along with my panties, and straddled him again, sitting up and taking
his erection in my hands.  I stroked him lightly, watching his head push
back into the cushion and his mouth open in a quiet groan.  I raised
myself up and slowly lowered myself onto him, an inch at a time.  “I fell
in love you almost immediately, Adam.”  I couldn't talk any more, the
wonderful sensation of him filling me all I could focus on.  Would I never
get over how amazing he felt?  I pulled myself up until he was almost out
of me, then slowly eased back down again.  He grabbed onto my hips, and
held me to him tightly, pressing his hips up to mine, pushing himself into me
as deeply as he could.  It was my turn to groan.

He opened his eyes and pulled me down to him, one hand on my back,
the other on my ass, squeezing and pushing me down harder.  He began
thrusting up into me, already hitting that perfect spot, already sending
tremors through my body, making my legs start to shake.

“Oh, Adam,” I moaned, “oh, please, oh, please!”

“God, Sylvia,” he growled and he pulled me into him even tighter,
thrust even harder, and we both fell apart within minutes.

I lay on top of him as we recovered.  I loved these moments
so much, listening to his heavy breaths, his pounding heartbeat, feeling his
hands tenderly tracing over my body, my hair.  I could lay here on top of
him forever. I never wanted to get up.

“I’m never getting up.  I’m going to lie here forever.”

I felt him chuckle. “I forbid you from ever getting up.”

“So bossy.”

“I am.”

“I don’t mind.”  I found the strength to raise up on my arms
and looked down into his eyes.  He looked so content, so young that I
could almost see the boy in him.  “But I don't want you to be my boss
anymore.”

“What?”

“I can’t take money from you anymore.  It isn’t right. 
If I get accepted at Noble, you have to stop paying me.”

“But you’ll need an income.”

I lowered myself back down and ran my fingers over his chest.

“I’ll figure something out.”

“We’ll figure something out.”  He hugged me.  I loved
the feel of his arms around me.  I felt so safe, so cherished.

“I love your arms around me.”

“I love my arms around you, too.”

The letter from Noble arrived with the Friday morning mail. Mr.
Hunter watched my face carefully as I opened it, my hands suddenly a little
shaky.  I scanned it as quickly as I could.  I was accepted, but minus
the financial aid I needed to quit working.

“Good news?”

“I’m in.”  I smiled up at him.

“That’s my girl.”  He picked me up in a hug, lifting me off
the floor.  “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.”  I couldn’t believe that my plan had actually
worked, that I’d managed to become a regular student at Noble.  This was a
big deal, and I knew it.  I clung to Mr. Hunter’s shoulders as the reality
of it began to sink in.

“But I didn’t get the financial aid I was hoping for.”

“We’ll work it out.  The important thing is that you got
in.”  He put me down and kissed my forehead.  “We should
celebrate.  Let’s go away this weekend.”

“All right.  Where do you want go?”

“How far up the coast have you traveled?”

“Just to Bijoux with Britt.”

“I know a place further north.  I’ll see if I can get us a
room.”  He let me go, a wide smile on his face.  He was probably more
than a little relieved that he didn't have to move this fall.  I was, too.

“I’m going to call my dad.”

“I think you should.”  We went upstairs together, Mr. Hunter
turning into his office and me heading up to our room where I’d left my phone
on my nightstand.  I hit the speed dial number, trying to figure out what
time it was on the west coast while it rang.  I hoped I wasn’t calling in
the middle of the night.

“Sylvia?”  My dad answered, sounding perfectly awake. 
“Everything all right?”

“Everything’s great, dad.  I just got accepted into Noble
this fall and wanted to tell you in person.”

“Sylvia, that’s wonderful.  I knew you could do it.”

“Thanks.  I’m so excited.  I still can’t quite believe
it.”

“You deserve it, honey.  So when do your classes start?”

“In two weeks.”

“Huh.  I was hoping you could come home for a short visit
before then.”

“I don’t think I’ll have time, dad, but I wish I could too. 
I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, sweetheart.  Let me know your new address
when you move back to campus and I'll send you some fish jerky.  It turned
out great this year.”

“No, that’s okay, no need to go to any trouble,” I laughed. 
We had a long-running joke about the jerky he made every summer.  He loved
it.  I did not.  “Actually, dad, I’m not moving back on campus. 
I’m going to stay here for the rest of the year.”

“At Mr. Hunter’s?”  I’d eventually told him over emails that
I was living in my boss’s house, but that was all he knew.

“Yeah, dad, we’ve, um, we’ve fallen in love.”

“Really.”

“Really.”

“Isn’t he a lot older than you?”

“He’s only thirty-nine, dad.  He’s not old.”

“Is he there?  Can I speak with him?”

Oh-oh.  “Sure, I guess.  Let me go find him.”

I trotted downstairs to the office and handed Mr. Hunter the phone
with a small grimace.  “My dad wants to talk to you.”

He gave me a reassuring smile as he lifted the phone to his
ear.  “Hello, Mr. Lane, this is Adam Hunter.  Yes, sir.  Of
course.  She is.  I promise, Mr. Lane.”  I sat myself on his
lap, listening to his side of the conversation.  He put his free hand on
my hip and looked into my eyes as he talked to my dad.  “Her safety and
happiness mean everything to me, Mr. Lane.  No, sir.  I’d like that
very much.  Yes, she’s right here.  Goodbye, Mr. Lane.”  He
handed the phone back to me.

“Dad?”

“All right, Sylvia.  He seems okay.  You know you can
call me any time, though, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“Congratulations, Sylvia.  I mean that.  I’m proud of
you, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, dad.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

I closed my phone, put it on the desk, and put both my arms around
Mr. Hunter’s neck.  “It sounds like you passed the paternal approval
test.”

“Yep, it’s a big day for me, too.  And I’ve been invited to
come home with you next time you visit and go fishing.”

“Wow, I’m impressed.”

“You won’t be for long.  I have no idea how to fish. 
I’ll probably fall off the boat.”

I laughed and hugged him.  “I should call Britt, too.”

“All right. Off you go.”  He helped me stand.  “So, I
was able to get us a room. How about we leave after lunch and take our time
driving up?”

“Sounds great.  Do I need to pack anything special?”

He shook his head and gave me a little smirk.  “If it were up
to me, you wouldn't pack anything at all.”

“Mr. Hunter, for shame.  I’m calling my dad back right now.”

“Good luck with that.  I’m his new fishing buddy.  He’s
on my side now.”

The drive up the coast was lovely.  We stopped on the way in
one little town and had coffee, and then in another for dinner.  Mr.
Hunter was taking me up to North Beach, a resort area famous for its beaches on
one side and its mountains on the other.  I expected him to pull up to any
one of the large hotels we passed when we got there, but he continued driving
until we were out of town, finally turning into the driveway of a small cabin
that said “North Beach Rentals” on its front door.  I waited in the car
while he went in to get the key, and five minutes later we were parking in
front of our own private cottage.

“I thought you were getting a room somewhere, Mr. Hunter, not our
own cabin.”

“I imagine there are rooms inside.  If not, I’ll call the
manager to complain.”

“Now who’s doing the spoiling?”  I asked teasingly.

“Get used to it, princess.”  He helped me out of the car,
collected our bags, unlocked the cabin door and ushered me inside.  We
made love that night with abandon, both of us reveling in the knowledge that
we’d be together for another year.

Saturday we walked on the beach, ate a big lunch, and did some
sightseeing.  The weather was perfect, not too hot, with warm breezes
coming off the water.  We had dinner at an outdoor cafe, enjoying the
darkening sky and cooling air.  I ordered a silly beach drink that came
with a paper umbrella and Mr. Hunter had a martini, but wrinkled his nose at
the first sip.  “Nowhere near as good as yours, Miss Lane.”

“I should hope not.”

He looked at me with affection.  “I’m going to miss having
you as my housekeeper.”

“So what are we going to do?”

“I’ve been thinking.  A lot.  About you and what you do
for me, and I don’t think we should do our dinners any longer.”

“No?  Why not?  I like them.”

“Oh, I like them, too, don’t get me wrong.  But as long as
you’re waiting on me like you do every night, I agree that I shouldn’t be
paying you.  I imagine you must want me to feel that you’re not with me
for financial reasons -”

I nodded emphatically and interrupted, “That’s exactly it.”

“And I want you to know that I’m not with you because of how
indulgent you’ve been with me at dinner.”

“I know you’re not.”

He smiled at me fondly, then picked up my hand and kissed it,
holding it as he continued.  “Here’s how I see the problem.  I can’t
continue our dinners and keep paying you, yet you need an income. 
Therefore, we stop our dinners, but I’d like it if you continued to cook for
me.  If I pay you just to do that, if we have normal dinners together and
you don’t wait on me, would you feel more comfortable about letting me continue
to employ you?”

End our dinners?  Just fix meals?

“So I’d become your cook, then?”

“I guess so.”  He smiled at me.

“You’d have to pay me less, that’s non-negotiable.”

“I’ll pay you whatever you say, whatever you need and not another
dollar more.”

“What about the rest of the housekeeping?”

“We’ll split it, like any normal couple.”

“It might work.”

“Shall we see how it goes?”

“Let’s try it.”

“Very good.”

That night Mr. Hunter’s lovemaking was different.  He could
be dominating in bed, but not usually for very long, and usually only in the
heat of passion.  This time, as we lay naked together, he lifted my arms
over my head and told me to keep my hands on the rungs in the headboard. 
Then he leaned down and took one of my nipples in his mouth, giving it a gentle
bite.  I gasped in pleasure.

“Who do these beautiful little pink nipples belong to, Miss
Lane?”  He asked me a low voice, moving to the other one and flicking it
with his tongue before giving it a firm suck.

“You, sir.”

“Good girl.  And this perfect tiny waist?”  He moved
lower down my body, circling my waist with his hands, almost able to get his
long fingers all the way around me, and bent down to kiss my belly button.

“It’s yours, sir.”

“That’s right.  All mine.  And this beautiful
behind?”  He asked, reaching underneath me to cup me and lift me off the
bed.  “Who does this belong to?”

“You, Mr. Hunter.”

“No one else?”

“Never, sir.”

He put me back down and spread my legs.  He ran a finger
lightly over my clit. “This is mine.”

“Yes, sir,” I gasped again.

“This is mine.”  He eased a finger inside of me and I
writhed, my hips bucking up to him of their own volition.

“Oh, Mr. Hunter, yes, it’s all yours.  I’m all yours.”

He looked up me from under his eyebrows as he leaned down and
licked me.  “You’re my delicious, perfect girl, aren’t you, Miss Lane?”

I groaned and gripped the headboard as hard as I could as he
licked me again.  “Yes, Mr. Hunter, yes!”

“Forever?”

“Forever, sir, I promise, forever.”

He played me with his mouth and fingers until I could feel my
orgasm beginning.  He sensed it too and climbed back up my body, kissing
his way up to my neck and positioning himself to enter me.  “Do you want
me, Miss Lane?”

“Yes, I want you!”

“Ask me nicely,” he murmured into my neck, his voice still low.

“Please, Mr. Hunter, please,” I was gasping again, feeling him
just at my entrance, needing him so much.  “Oh please, sir, I need you
inside of me, please.”  I pulled him in toward me with my legs.

“Sylvia,’” he groaned, thrusting into me with one hard push. 
“So perfect.”

I’d been so close before he entered me that it only took me a
minute to reach my climax, which hit hard and fast.  I threw my head back
and groaned as the first wave of pleasure washed over me, finally letting go of
the headboard to cling to his back as I shattered apart.  “Adam!”

“Sylvia … Sylvia … don’t let go of me, don’t let go.”  He
climaxed soon, his breath heavy in my ear, his weight pinning me down. 
“Mine,” he moaned, “mine,” his voice dropping to a whisper.

I cradled his head and ran my other hand over his back, basking in
his need to possess me, knowing that it was part of his love for me, part of
him.  As our relationship continued, I suspected I’d see more of these
flashes of possessiveness as he worked out his fear that I too may be something
he couldn’t hold onto, but I didn’t mind one bit.  I was his.  And he
was mine.

September was a lovely month; the air cooled significantly and
felt cleaner, crisper, lighter.

Mr. Hunter and I had stopped doing our dinners, as agreed.  I
still cooked dinners most nights, but we fixed our own plates and sometimes
just ate at the island.  I even cooked several vegetarian meals, which Mr.
Hunter ate with a stoic patience that pleased me no end.

He was really trying.  He did the laundry, including mine,
and we shared the rest of the tasks, cutting back on a lot of the
dusting.  I loved watching him vacuum.  The first time he did it, I
followed him from room to room, finally launching myself on him in the library
and having my way with him on my chair.  He said if he’d only known it got
me so hot, he’d have started a long time ago.

My payments had decreased to the point that I was back on a
budget, but that was fine with me. It actually felt more comfortable, more
usual.  The money I’d earned over the summer went toward my tuition,
making a significant dent, meaning I didn’t really need much more than spending
money.

I renewed my student visa the week after we got home from North
Beach, and it wasn’t long before my classes started and I was soon caught up
again in the press of homework, more homework, ever more homework.  I
worked at home most nights, preferring to set up my laptop on the island. 
It soon became my unofficial desk, cluttered with my things during meals. 
Mr. Hunter finally suggested using my old guest room as an office, so we hauled
out the bed and dresser and pulled the desk out to face the windows.