Moments Of Beauty Page 9

  Then I think of my dad, and I know that I have no other choice. For both our sakes, I need to leave. He deserves peace, and for once in my miserable life, so do I.

  With my confidence back in place, I stand, taking one last look around at the bare walls, and when I turn back to the doorway, he’s standing there, his eyes flicking around the vacated space, then coming to land on me.

  “Going somewhere?” he asks.

  Sliding my hands to rest on my hips I stand at my full height, which brings me to his level. He raises a brow, and I clear my throat, “Yeah, I’m leaving. You won’t have to look at me ever again.”

  His brows scrunch together, “You’re still in school.”

  I shake my head, “I took my final exam earlier today. I’m done.”

  For the first time ever, I see my father look at me with something akin to concern in his eyes, “Where you going to go, boy?”

  Shrugging my shoulder, I glance out the window, “I’m not sure. Just, away.”

  When I turn my attention back to him he’s nodding, “You need money or anything?”

  I frown, is he, no. “What?”

  “You heard me,” he says gruffly.

  I can’t believe I’m actually hearing this, “Are you kidding me? You’ve done absolutely everything you could to make sure I knew just how much you despise me and now, now, you’re offering me money. What the fuck?”

  A sneer I’m more than familiar with lifts his top lip, “If it gets you out of my life then it’s money well spent.”

  And there he is, “I don’t need anything from you. I’ll be taking more than enough emotional baggage with me thanks to you, so I’m good. Thanks,” I say as I push past him, walk down the hallway, and out of the only place I’ve ever lived, but was never my home.

  I’m supposed to be meeting Eliza at the stream, but as I pull up on the side of the road, I hear thunder roll over head. She’s already here, and I park behind her Rover, then make my way through the trees to the clearing.

  My jaw drops as I take in the sight before me, “What, what is all this?” I ask as I look around at what is normally just a small patch of grass by the stream.

  Eliza turns around and smiles at me, “You like it? I wanted to make it, I don’t know, it sounds clichéd to say special, but yeah, I guess that’s what I was going for.”

  It’s incredible. She’s set up a tepee style tent, in front of it a blanket is laid out with a pizza box, and a cold box filled with god knows what, but I don’t even care. The trees surrounding the clearing are filled with little lights, and she’s put out solar lanterns around the blanket.

  I have no words, I stand there, dumfounded for a moment before I reach into my pack and pull out my camera. I snap one shot. Eliza standing in the middle of the blanket surrounded by the twinkling lights in the trees around her. And the look on her face speaks louder than her words ever could.

  I put my camera away, then close the distance between us, lightly tossing my pack inside the tent as I reach her. When my hands are free, I cup her face in my palms, and look down into her eyes, “I,” I try to speak, but I can’t find the right words, so I kiss her instead.

  She pushes up on her tiptoes and grips my shoulders as I slowly run my tongue along the line of her pouty bottom lip, then slide it inside her wet mouth and revel in the taste of her one last time.

  It doesn’t take long before I need more of her, so I grip her hips, lifting her until she wraps her legs around my waist, then I drop to my knees on the blanket she’s laid out. I lower her to the ground, and my body follows hers like a magnet.

  “Hux,” she whispers, “I’m going to miss you every damn day.”

  Another piece of my soul splinters off, deciding to stay with her, rather than me. I haven’t been whole for a long time, but I’d rather it be because of her. So, I smile down at her, knowing she will always have a piece of me, “I love you,” I tell her and she rewards my confession with one of her brilliant smiles.

  I have no desire to rush with her tonight, not on our last night together. I plan on taking my time, slowly devouring every succulent inch of her delectable body.

  Apparently, Eliza isn’t as down with taking it slow, and she shoves at my chest until I sit up on my haunches, “I need you inside me now, we can do slow later, but right now, right now I need you.”

  Her words spur me into action and my shirt is up and over my head in a flash, by the time I go for my belt buckle Eliza has already shucked her little white dress, and is laying back watching me.

  And goddamn, she’s wearing my favourite mint green lace set. I lick my lips, remembering the first time I saw her, just like this. I abandon my efforts with my belt and drop between her thighs.

  She squeals out, “No! Pants off fir—” but her words trail off as my tongue laps at her sweet pussy over her lace underwear.

  Her back arches, lifting her hips further into my face and I fucking love it. How she melts for me at the slightest touch. I love that only I get to see her like this. That the look on her face right now belongs to me.

  When she confessed to only orgasming by herself previously, and that she’d never come during sex before, I felt like the fucking king of the world. Or at least of Eliza’s pussy, and that was enough for me.

  As my tongue laves at her folds over the lace, I slide two fingers beneath it and inside her tightness. Her pussy clamps around my fingers and my cock twitches, wishing it was where my fingers are right now.

  Sitting back up on my haunches again, I keep my fingers inside her, pumping and grazing against her g-spot while I finish unbuckling my belt, pop the button, and slide the zipper down to release myself.

  Eliza’s shuddering and biting down on her bottom lip, her eyes closed tight as she barrels towards orgasm. I grip my dick and start pumping my fist in time with my fingers inside her pussy. Pleasure sparks in my balls as I watch her squirm.

  When her eyes flash open, landing on my fist wrapped tightly around my cock while I’m jacking myself off, she comes on a husky moan, “Hux!”

  I love watching her like this, I could literally watch her come all day long. As long as I’m the one making her do it, that is. I frown at that thought, it’s a reality I’ve always been aware of but distinctly blocked from my mind.

  Come tomorrow morning, I won’t have any claim to her. A rock settles in the pit of my stomach, and I close my eyes to block out the train of my thoughts before I ruin this for both of us. Because fuck if I don’t want the clichéd special one last time with her.

  After riding me so hard my eyes roll into the back of my head as I blow my load, Eliza rolls off of me, and picks up the box of pizza, “Hungry?” she asks with a devious grin.

  That belongs to me too. That grin.

  We eat the pizza in silence, Eliza snuggling into my chest, now wearing my T-shirt, and I’ve never been so happy. I reach back into the tent to grab my camera out of my pack, and hold it above us, taking a selfie.

  I don’t bother checking if it was a decent shot. I know I’ll keep it regardless.

  Just then, the thunder I’d heard earlier rolls in the sky above us. Eliza’s eyes light up, “I love electrical storms.”

  “You do?”

  She nods, and I relish the feel of her silky hair rubbing against my bare chest, “Yep. I love the way the sky lights up, and the smell of the rain. Nothing beats that smell. It’s fresh, and sweet, and new.”

  She closes her eyes, turning her face up to the sky as another drop falls, followed by a hundred more. She doesn’t move to get in the tent and out of the rain, instead, she snuggles closer to me and sighs with contentment.

  If I could freeze time and capture this absolutely perfect moment, I would. This right here, is my definition of a moment of beauty. Sitting on a blanket in the rain with the most amazing person I’ve ever met.

  I kiss her temple, and slide my hand under the edge of my shirt that looks more like an oversized dress on her small frame. Closing my eyes, I tip my head back,
letting the rain soak me to the core. But I don’t feel cold. Not with Eliza in my arms.

  I’m not sure how long we sit like that, but the feel of Eliza’s soft lips on my throat snap me out of my daze. I look down into her eyes, they’re deep and soulful. She never tries to hide herself from me, and I can see right into her.

  I cup her cheek, my eyes not shifting from hers, as tiny water droplets cling to her long lashes. When she blinks, it’s in slow motion, and the droplets slide down and over her smooth cheek, coming to rest at the edge of her full top lip.

  Leaning down, I lick at it, and taste the perfect mix of Eliza and the sweetness of the rain. I wish I could bottle it.

  My free hand slides around her hip, and in a move I’ve performed with her many times now, I switch our places so I’m now on top of her. She got her way before, and we fucked hard and fast, but now it’s my turn, and I want to savour it.

  I start at her toes, I touch each of them. Tracing the lines to her heels, and up her firm calves. I pause at her knees, and kiss the soft skin there, then slide my tongue along the crease behind. I do the same thing to her opposite knee before moving up her thighs.

  Spreading my hands out so I can touch as much of her as possible, my palms glide up her silky smooth, wet skin. My shirt is now plastered to her body like a second layer of skin, and I peel it off as slowly as everything else I’m doing.

  She can’t lay still, she fidgets and twitches, “You okay, El?” I ask quietly by her ear, then trace the shell of it with the tip of my tongue.

  A shiver rolls down her body, and I feel it with my own.

  Nodding, “Yes,” she says as she lifts her hand to trace my body the way I’m doing to hers.

  I’m looking into eyes as I finally slide inside, and she bites down on her lower lip. It takes all my willpower not to pick up my pace, but to enjoy the slow push and pull of our bodies as we move together, the thunder overhead continues to roll and lightning flashes somewhere in the distance surrounding us in purple light.

  As the storm moves closer, the thunder becomes louder, our bodies continue to grind, mouths continue to taste, breaths continue to come in pants that mingle together the way our bodies are.

  Sweat coats me even though it’s raining hard now, but nothing has ever felt as good as this. One of Eliza’s legs is curled around one of mine and her arms are holding on to my back, digging her nails into my flesh.

  “I love you,” she cries as her body begins to shake and shudder.

  I can’t hold back my own release when her pussy squeezes me so tightly and pulses in time with my thrusts, “Love, you, El,” I grunt as I come with her.

  This moment will forever be etched in my brain as the most beautiful moment of my entire life. Nothing will ever top this.

  Sliding out of her warmth, I miss the closeness already. I swallow down the emotion that rises inside of me and reach a hand out to her. She takes it, and we stand. Naked. In the rain. In the clearing by the stream where we first spoke.

  Looking down at her, I have to kiss her. Sliding my hands into her drenched locks, I hold on like I could hold her like this forever. And I wish, I wish I could.

  When I finally release her, her eyes are shining with tears, “I’m going to miss this,” she says with a sad smile.

  I don’t respond, instead I tug her inside the tent, then into my arms when I lay down on the air bed she has set up in there.

  She wraps herself around me, and I know she’s thinking the same thing I was only moment ago. She wishes we could stay like this forever.

  We fall asleep like that, to the sound of the storm raging outside our little tent.

  I didn’t know it then, but that storm would never leave me, not until I found her again.

  “You know I hate going to the showings, Bee, don’t make me.” I’m begging like a child and I don’t even care. That’s how much I hate going to my own exhibitions. Listening to people pick apart my work and try dissect the meaning behind a particular photograph annoys the shit out of me.

  They don’t understand why I shoot the way I do. My photography has been given many labels over the years, the most recent is one I’m pretty sure was made up because my work doesn’t fit into any of their boxes, yet it fits them all. They are calling me a Randomist.

  When I read the latest write up heralding me as a pioneer in the art of Randomist Photography I rolled my eyes and threw the article in the bin. What a load of shit. I don’t have a style, never have. I shoot what captures my attention. That’s it. I don’t adhere to the rules of any particular style.

  It still annoyed me, Randomist. I mean, fucking really? It makes me sound like a douche.

  Bee’s voice brings me back to the present, “Yes, you have to go. You are the reason people pay big money to come to the opening night of these events, Hux. They want to mingle with the talent.”

  “You mean the gold-diggers, thirty years younger than their sugar daddy husbands, pay big money to come so they can attempt to grope me when their husbands are off drinking whisky and smoking cigars on the balcony, bragging about how much younger their current trophy wife is,” I say dryly, because that’s exactly what ends up happening.

  Bee tsks, “You’re being dramatic, Huxley.”

  I raise a brow, “Oh, I’m Huxley now?”

  She nods, “Petulant children get called by their full names when behaving like brats,” she says as she performs her this-is-happening-so-deal-with-it move, and puts her hands on her hips, levelling me with her no bullshit stare.

  I carry on behaving like a child and throw my hands in the air, “Fine, but don’t expect me to like it.”

  She pats me on top of the head as she walks past me pouting on the couch in the living room we’ve shared for nearly five years now. I swipe her hand away, and glare at her retreating form.

  “Glare all you like, you’re doing this,” she calls over her shoulder on her way down the short hallway to her bedroom.

  I slump back on the couch, she very rarely lets me get out of these events, but I still try every time she informs me of the next one.

  Bee has been my best friend for the last five years, and my manager slash publicist for the last three. At first, I thought branching out on my own was a bad idea, but she convinced me to give her six months to make a name for me. She did it in four.

  When I first arrived here I had no plans of staying. It was supposed to be a stop along the way, but I met Bee, and she changed everything. She had a unique perspective that I found appealing. So when she mentioned needing a flat mate, and cheap rent, I agreed to move in.

  She is by far the bossiest woman I’ve ever met. And I’ve worked with models who thought their looks entitled them to treat everyone as their personal assistant who should do as they’re told when they’re told.

  Those bitches I could ignore, but Bee, she followed through with her threats, so it was easier and safer to do as I was told. That’s why I didn’t bother fighting her on attending this next opening.

  I’m not sure if it’s normal to be afraid of your manager, but I fucking am. Best friend or not, she would kick my arse if I ignored her advice and did something that damaged my career in any way.

  “Where is this thing anyway?” I call out to Bee.

  She pokes her head out of her room and does something that makes me immediately suspicious, she looks down at her ring covered fingers and acts as if she’s was admiring the glint of light coming off the impressive gems adorning her fingers. “Well we could drive, make a road trip of it, or we can fly, the flight is only two hours. I don’t mind either way.”

  I arch my brow, “That didn’t answer my question at all. Where’s the exhibition, Bee?”

  She licks her lips, then walks out of her room and toward me. My eyes narrow, and she avoids making eye contact with me. Even when she parks her arse on the edge of the coffee table directly in front of me, she’s looking at the rug on the floor.

  “Bee,” I hedge.

  She hunches her
shoulders and rolls her eyes, “Ugh fine, I was going to surprise you, I mean it’s not like you even care where I book your shows.”

  I don’t like the direction I think this is heading in, “I don’t like surprises. You know that.”

  Bee nods and sighs, “Don’t get mad, I’ve avoided it for the last couple of years, but it’s time. And you have a huge fan base there, the exhibition has sold out of opening night tickets already. In record time, actually. There’s been a lot of talk in the art community wondering when you would finally go there.”

  She’s babbling. And I know, without her even saying it, she’s going to try make me go back. I start shaking my head, “No, nope, not happening Bee. I’m not even going to fight you on this, it’s not up for discussion. I’m not doing it.”

  Her arms cross over her ample chest and she stands, “Yes, Hux, you are. This is too big to back out of. It’s already done.”

  I stand too, bringing us toe to toe, “I said no. I’m not going back there.”

  “Yes. You. Are.”

  Closing my eyes, my fists clench at my sides and I pray for the strength to resist strangling her stubborn arse. When I open them again she hasn’t backed down, “You of all people know I can’t, and won’t go back there. It’s not even an option.”

  With a huff her hands move to her hips, “Hux, it’s been five years. Five! And you’re still avoiding that entire part of the country. The exhibition isn’t in your old home town, it’s in the city. You won’t see him.”

  My entire body solidifies at the mention of my father. My teeth grit together almost painfully. And it takes gargantuan effort to keep myself in check, when all I want to do right now is smash my fist into the wall to release some of this, this, hate.

  As much as I tried to forget about him, and my life back there, I couldn’t. It was a constant weight on my shoulders. A constant battle to acknowledge how far I had come despite what I was.

  A soft hand wraps around my tight fist, and slowly begins to loosen my fingers, one by one, and I let her. “Hux, he still controls you. But you’re the one who lets him get inside your head. You haven’t seen, or heard from him, in five years. Yet you’re as angry today as the day I met you.”