Page 167 of Seeing Grayscale

Hunter watches me while I stifle a moan because, as it turns out, he’s a much better baker than I am. He even put this cinnamon swirl in the bread I could never master.

“Sweetheart,” he starts, attempting to take the plate back, but I hiss at him. He laughs at me, abandons the plate, and throws an arm over my shoulders. “If I’m not allowed to give up on things, neither are you.”

“But it’s not happening! It’s not. I’m not likeBrock, who has a fancy building to display all of it and sell it to the art geeks who shop there. I don’t have—” I stop, seeing his widening grin. When he coughs and clears his throat, I side-eye him. “What did you do? You’ve got that look.”

“Me?” he says innocently.

I toss the plate on the coffee table, twist onto my knees, and palm his chest. “What. Did. You. Do?”

My boyfriend shrugs, grabbing my waist and hauling me into his lap. “I’m just surprised with how much you loathe Brock that you haven’t been keeping up with the happenings of his gallery.”

I blink. Blink again. Hope might be for assholes, but Hunter has made me the biggest asshole on the planet. He did something. He fuckingdid something.“Tell me what you did.”

“Ididn’t do anything. My mother, however…”

The woman got aridiculouslump sum in her divorce, Hunter’s dad having paid out most of his fortune just to keep her mouth shut. Candice wouldn’t take the money at first, but Hunter insisted that she deserved it after everything she’d put up with being that fucking sleazeball’s wife. I really like Candice, even if she is a bit of a wino.

“I’m calling her.”

“Not so fast,” he keeps me pinned on his lap when I try to get off it. “You can call her after.”

“After?”

He runs his hands down my back until they land on my ass and he squeezes. “After our trip.”

I gape at him. “What trip? Oh my god, is this our anniversary or something?”

“Which one? The anniversary of the day we made it official?” He slowly unbuttons my jeans. “The anniversary of our first kiss?” I shiver, watching as he unzips them. “Or the anniversary of the day we met?” Warm hands slip into my boxer briefs, stroking my half hard dick to full mast.

The date…what’s the damn date? “Which anniversary, baby?” His fist curls around my shaft, pumping it once. I moan, shifting my hips to get him to do it again.

“It’s…November…err—fuck.” Hunter jacks me in a slow, torturous rhythm. “November 11th. The day we met,” I rush out, palming his shoulders and rising on my knees.

“Good boy,” he coos, pushing my pants down my hips. “We’re going away for a bit, and when we get back, you can call my mother and ask her about your new gallery.”

I am about to cry, but he distracts me by bending and taking me into his mouth. I groan, toss my head back, and hold onto him tighter. “Where a-are we g-going?”

He pops off me, letting some spit dribble down onto my cock. “Berlin.” Then he sucks me down again.

“Fuckin hell.” He sucks me so fucking good. Always so damn good. And now that this has started, I’m going to have to bust out at least three orgasms before he’s satisfied. “When?” I gasp as he swallows.

Humming, he slowly drags his tongue up my length before dipping into my slit to gather up my precum. “Tomorrow.”

“Oh god,” I cry out when he takes me down again, bobbing his head in earnest and pinning me by two firm hands on my ass. “Tomorrow? But…”

“Berlin. The Mecca of art. Now come for me, baby. I want to taste you.”

My eyes cross as I nod obediently. “I fucking love you,” I groan, my tongue fat and heavy in my mouth.

He chuckles, and sucks me until I’m emptying down his throat.

I look up at the new sign.

It once said Court Syde, which, what a stupid name, am I right?

Now, when people come to the brand spanking new gallery with Taylor greeting them—had to keep my girl Taylor—they’ll read this sign.

The thought process.

The way of life.

A different way of thinking to make anyone who comes here see the beauty, even if it’s a glimpse.

I hope they find it, hold on to it, and never let it go.

When they come into this gallery and read this sign, they’ll hopefully understand.

They’ll understand what it means to see greyscale and every color in between.

THE END

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