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The Lustful Romantics

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Have you ever been haunted and tormented by love? Hunter has. Everyone he's ever loved has either hurt him or died. Everyone but his sister, Lauren. Brianna, a girlfriend of convenience, struggles to comprehend her feelings for him in the midst of her escalating conflict with Lauren. After more than a decade of putting Lauren first, the tables begin to flip. Lauren slowly reveals Brianna's true colors and supplants her in favor of her new friend, Freya. This is a story of love and drama. It's based on real events, not tropes and expectations. There is a happy ending, but in between lies all the darkness and light of real life.

Romance / Erotica
Hunter Ambrose
5.0 1 review
Age Rating:

Chapter 1

**Content/Trigger Warning: this chapter contains explicit depictions of consensual intercourse, explicit language and consumption of alcohol.

My fingers sunk into Brianna’s soft, shapely ass as my hips forcefully, repeatedly thrust into her. She was bent over my kitchen counter, pants and thong around her ankles, bodysuit and flats still on, getting pounded across the white quartz. The ninety-degree angle of the waterfall edge jammed into her hips with each jerk forward while mine were cushioned by her rear end.

Across the massive expanse of my living room, on the other side of the sleek, floor-to-ceiling windows, was the iconic skyline of Downtown Houston. Aside from the entryway’s incandescent ceiling light and the flickering of appliances, the view provided the only source of illumination in my otherwise dark penthouse.

Both these views — and the sensations that accompanied them — saturated and increased my arousal. An extra surge of blood rushed down below, meaning I was now as large as the setting made me feel.

It wasn’t just me that noticed the difference — Brianna did too. Her wetness increased tenfold as her body felt the precipice approaching. A single hand, perfectly manicured with peach-colored acrylic tips, balled up the bottom of my olive t-shirt in an attempt to pull me deeper. I responded by undoing her ponytail and pulling back on the roots of her raven hair.

“Oh fuck…Hunter!” she shrieked, the last part louder than the first. Unless she was dirty talking, it was the only thing she seemed to be capable of saying when I was inside her.

My thrusts became harder and more intense as I neared the edge, as deep, as hard, and as fast as I was capable of delivering.

It pushed us both to the limit.

The air filled with our grunts and moans; I dug the nails on my left hand into her skin, pulled back harder on her hair with my right, and erupted deep inside her. She finished as well with one final, gushing orgasm.

“Oh fuck! Hunter!!” She repeated her signature cry as the knuckles in her hands turned white as snow — one on the equally white counter, the other forcing my collar to rub harshly against the back of my neck from how aggressively she pulled at my shirt.

Her legs shook uncontrollably and I felt her clench around me, adding intensity to my climax. We stayed still as I emptied it all into her, and with each calming breath I took, the otherwise silent penthouse came more and more into my awareness.

I had taken her on a date tonight — a cooking class on Thai food, to be exact. She had been wanting to learn how to cook Thai for a while, so it was the perfect surprise to keep her satisfied with her standing in our relationship. She was supposed to leave after we got back, but I overcame her in the heat of the moment, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde style.

It was clear to both of us that something was coming the whole night. The sexual tension started at a simmer when the surprise was revealed. It slowly ramped up as I glanced at her cleavage, and we stole kisses and touches all night in the hot kitchen.

Brianna whimpered and shivered as I pulled out of her slowly. I stumbled backward and hastily reassembled my outfit after wiping myself off with one of the kitchen towels. I also watched briefly as my milky white cum began dripping out of her by the tablespoon, down her legs, and onto the dark wood floor.

While I slid my belt back through the loop of my dark wash jeans, Brianna slumped off the counter top and onto the ground, her hand glued to her forehead while she feverishly attempted to catch her still-racing breath. She clearly intended to stay there for a minute or two, overtaken by post-coital exhaustion. Any variation of rear entry positions always did that to her. To be honest though, it didn’t look very comfortable. The state of her clothing hadn’t changed, except for the single shoe that had come off in the fall, and she was leaking profusely from between her legs. There was even a noticeable line across her pelvis from where the counter had been digging into her. She was probably sitting in a puddle, too.

“Well that was unexpected…” she sighed through choppy breaths, finally saying something other than ‘Oh fuck…Hunter!’ The build-up had been obvious, but the sequence of events after we got back was unexpected from her point of view.

It was like a switch had flipped without me having a say in the matter. I was smiling, flirting and having fun with her one moment and became an greedy, erotic demon intent on plowing her like a fucking war bride the next.

That’s the thing about lust: it’s uncontrollable and unpredictable, and it’ll overcome everything that stands in its way if you let it. Lust always gets what it wants. Which is why, without warning, I pulled her back from the refrigerator as soon as the leftovers touched the shelf, slammed the doors shut, and pinned Brianna against them with my hand around her throat.

But she’d never understand something that deep, so I dismissed it with a laugh as I fluffed out my shirt and extended my arm to help her up.

“Well, at least I was a bit more gentle with you today. Minus this, of course.” I winked, referring to my usual level of roughness, and rubbing my hand across that red mark.

“Careful, mister. I’m still sensitive…” she winced as she felt my finger tips move a little farther south than they needed to. We were just inches apart. I had her pressed against me by the waist, which meant her lips were nearly touching mine. “And you’re just lucky I’m into that,” she whispered.

“I think you’re just into me,” I replied at a complementary volume.

“Stop touching me unless you’re ready for round two. I know what you’re doing…”

“Shut up,” I shushed her and then fulfilled the desire of those longing eyes with a kiss.

Brianna’s hands slid up my chest as our lips and tongues did a wet, sensual dance. She moaned and melted under every point of contact until, suddenly, she pushed me away and grabbed either side of her pants to wiggle them back above her ass. The longing had been replaced with the cocked eyebrows and smirking grin of playfulness. It was more than just the flirting of longtime lovers though. It seemed like a mask, as if there was another, contrary emotion beneath it.

My eyes moved to assess her, and yes, she had fallen in the cum puddle. Hers and mine. I bet she was going to love that. Those pants were full-grain leather, and a purchase from none other than Saks on Fifth Avenue — her favorite store. She was always really pissy when her designer shit got cum on it. No, this wasn’t the first time.

I smirked back at her and then suddenly realized my mouth tasted like it was missing whiskey, so I brushed past her, smacking her ass in the process. I walked out of the kitchen to the right to survey my imperial bar and turn a few more lights on. Brianna walked out to the left towards the living room, with a light thump from her feet that signaled the princess had the missing shoe back on her foot.

The bar is built into the wall, but I had it retrofitted with custom glass shelving by a guy at my gym. It’s backlit by LEDs, which matches the cosmopolitan feel of the rest of my place. I promptly turned them on to my favorite color, red, and surveyed the plethora of liquor bottles neatly organized into single-file rows, extending vertically about four feet.

I settled on Buffalo Trace. A classic.

“Would you like a drink?” I turned and asked Brianna as she settled onto my cognac, Italian leather couch. She looked somewhat recovered, albeit still sweaty and dehydrated.

“I have to drive home, Hunter,” she reminded me, trying to sound like she was suddenly a careful and responsible woman while the rest of my cum pooled at the bottom of her panties. I took a second glass from the rack anyway.

I rolled my eyes. “You can have one drink,” I said, annoyed. “Especially since I assume you’re staying to discuss business now.”

“Fine. I’ll have one drink then.”

“Good. Cause it’s already poured,” came my deadpan response as I corked the bottle and returned it to its place next to my usual — the Macallan 12 year.

Her eyes still reflected dueling emotions as they settled on me again. It was like she was watching me walk towards her in slow motion, torn between something she wanted to accept and something she knew she had to.

I watched her too, but more out of amusement than anything else. She was such a paradox, sitting all prim and proper like a good little rich girl, one leg crossed over the other, her hands cupped in her lap. But it was nothing more than a charade. Brianna was only a good little rich girl as far as enjoying the lifestyle and privileges it afforded her. She despised everything else about coming from old money so badly that I had become her shield from the expectations of that life — well, everything besides her trust fund and her family’s private jet.

Or is the proper word hypocrite?

Brianna took the drink without any further protest, her eyes still glued to me as I sat down in the matching chair opposite her. The fake eyelashes provided them with extra allure, a la Audrey Hepburn.

“What?” Her giggle echoed into the glass. The light refracted off the cushion-cut crystal and made her look comical but cute, with teeth larger than life, the corners of her mouth pulled up in a smile.

I didn’t respond, but I did break eye contact. My gaze wandered over her once more, objectifying her and doing nothing to disguise the nasty thoughts in my head.

Brianna was a remarkably beautiful, very tall woman with an athletic figure, fair, creamy skin, a massive ass, and long, sexy legs. The hair that graced her head was as dark as obsidian, which made her glacier-blue eyes sparkle like diamonds — her favorite gemstone.

Tonight, those long legs were squeezed into skin-tight, black leather pants, with a low-cut, white bodysuit. The look was finished off with black flats from Christian Louboutin and custom white gold jewelry.

Very few girls could leave me consistently craving more, but she was definitely one of them.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she pleaded half-heartedly, knowing full well it was nothing more than a tease. I wasn’t going to satiate her again, and she knew it. The toes of her flats rubbed together from the butterflies.

“Like what?”

“You know exactly what.” She squirmed, her leather pants rubbing against the leather of the couch. It wasn’t a plea. It was a warning.

I chuckled and sucked back some of the whiskey in my glass. “Tell me more about this non-profit idea then.”

Brianna licked her lips and bit down gently on her tongue as she retracted it. The heel of her left foot bounced against her shin as she gathered her thoughts. She had all sorts of these mannerisms when she got excited about things, but this one was for those things which satisfied a truly deep-seated wish of hers: validation.

“Imagine: FIT Community.” Her eyebrows perked up again, just as her head did, almost like she was seducing me with the statement. There was a wide, excited smile across her face now. “You’re always talking about how unhealthy people are today and how obesity is an under-addressed issue, especially in kids. With FIT Community, we can create positive messaging around healthy habits and exercise.”

I was nodding along, genuinely interested. Historically a chronic slacker, Brianna actually had good ideas when she applied effort.

“And how are we gonna do that?” I asked.

“Community exercise events like walking or kayaking groups. Public advocacy for better food in schools. Educational material about supplements and nutrition. Things like that. My dad can help with some of it. I was thinking of asking him to be chairman of the board.”

“Alright, I like it. I can run it by Lauren tomorrow and see if she has any other ideas.”

The excitement on Brianna’s face vanished instantly, forced out by the seriousness that replaced it. She sat forward, gently placed the drink on the coffee table, and then got up from the couch so she could straddle my lap instead with puppy dog eyes and frowning lips.

“I was hoping this could just be my special project.” She pouted, wiggling her hips into mine as if that would help convince me. This was her spoiled rich girl side coming out. I declined to put my hands on her. I knew what this tactic was.

“You know, Lauren is kinda the co-owner of the company — and the COO. And my sister. She’s gonna have to find out at some point.”

“I know, but later. She always takes control of things, and I want to do this myself. I think it’ll be good for me.”

I let out a sigh. This again. I don’t know who started it, but in the nearly two years Brianna and I had been together, they had never liked each other. It was constant bickering, jockeying, and cattiness back and forth. There was a good chance this non-profit had something to do with it, but I wasn’t going to prevent Brianna from taking the initiative to further the company right now just because it might make my sister mad. I could sort that mess out later if I had to.

Brianna wasn’t usually the type you should leave to her own devices, but lately, she had been doing much better at this sort of thing.

Something felt off about it, though, which meant I had to play both sides for the time being.

“Fine. I assume you have a business plan written up that you can send me?”

“Of course.” Her happiness returned.

“Ok. Send it to me then. I’ll take a look at it. Did you look at the list of influencers I sent you?”

“Yeah…” Her energy shifted again, back the other way. “I think it looks good. You’ve got all of them on board?”

“Almost. Just one more to go. I’m setting up the meeting tomorrow.” Yes, ‘meeting’ is a euphemism, and Brianna knew it.

“Brittany?” She asked, her voice briefly conveying a fearful tone.

“Yes,” I replied after a brief pause.

“Yeah, I noticed she made the list. There were a lot of girls on there, too. I wonder why.” She sighed and looked away.

“Aww. Are you getting jealous?” I taunted her.

“No,” She denied quickly.


I flirted with her eyes momentarily. The skyline sparkled in her pupils as I watched the conflict flood back into them.

“Can you also look at the social calendar we laid out for next month?” She asked, shifting the conversation as fast as she could.

“Sure. I’ll do that tonight,” I replied as my phone buzzed. Brianna rolled her eyes again and sighed…again. She was frustrated, sexually and otherwise. Brianna knew there were other women; it was part of our agreement, but she never liked being reminded of them. That’s her way of saying something’s bothering her without saying something’s bothering her.

“Are you sure you don’t have more pressing plans for tonight?” she joked tensely.

“I can multitask,” I asserted with total sincerity. I really meant it, too. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Mmhmm. I bet you can,” Came her sarcasm in return, and then she begrudgingly left my lap. “I need to get going. I’ve got hot yoga at 6 am.”

I stayed put and watched her walk away before getting up to fulfill my gentleman’s duties, opting to enjoy the view first — the other one.

Her walk mimicked a model strutting down a catwalk in its grace and attitude. Years of training and punishment from her mother had made such traits a habit. It fit her perfectly, though. Almost everything about her was elegant, from the limited edition Tiara by House of Sillage to her posture and fashion sense. Minus her facial expressions, she was always measured and sophisticated on the outside, but on the inside, she could be a secretly conniving, manipulative mess of a woman, using her looks and spoiled-girl charm to get her way.

A red herring personified, she always kept me on my toes.

She looked into the mirror above the console table with the utmost seriousness and adjusted everything to its proper place.

Her hands slipped under the low-cut, white bodysuit and the nude bra underneath to pull the ladies up before tinkering with her waistline. Taking her little makeup kit out of the new Coach bag I bought her last week, she lightly went back over her foundation, eye shadow, and mascara before fixing her hair with a little brush and touching up her bright-red lipstick.

I stood by as the routine wrapped up, leaning against the wall and sipping my whiskey, watching in silence.

Everything was done so meticulously. So carefully.

“Ok.” She exhaled, making eye contact with herself and affirming that she was ready to face the outside world.

“You good?” My voice was derisive. As much as it annoyed her, she also enjoyed my picking, perhaps because she knew that even though I enabled it, I didn’t marvel at the charade like everyone else. Or maybe it was the old playground adage that boys were only mean to you when they liked you.

“Shut up. Some of us have appearances to keep up. I can’t walk out of here looking like I just got fucked.” She corrected me, acting as if paparazzi were waiting for her in the lobby — there wasn’t.

As she turned to me, I moved forward to close the distance between us.

“That’s what makes it more fun to break the rules, though.” I whispered, my hand slipping around her waist, ratcheting up the tension one final time.

“Don’t you dare mess up my hair and makeup again,” she growled. “I literally just fixed it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I returned, my whisper even softer now, and kissed her gently on the lips.

“Stop it,” she begged again between kisses.

“What are you going to do? Use your safe word?” I teased her. She didn’t have a safe word. The first night we met, she declined to give me one.

Her bag dropped to the floor as she gave into the temptation and surrendered those full, rosy lips to me as I backed her into the front door, sinking into a deep, deep kiss. It lasted only a few seconds before I let it slowly fade away. She followed my lead, gradually letting go of the pressure behind her lips, and I pulled my head away from hers to give her a warm smile. Her hands slipped from their place around the back of my neck with disappointed energy.

“I’ll see you later.” I winked.

Brianna took a sharp breath as she rocked back and forth, pursing her mouth together to keep herself under control.

“Bye,” She replied quickly.

Reluctantly pulling the bag over her shoulder, she reached behind to open the door and slipped out with an entire debate starting to pick up steam in her head.

I caught the door as it closed and opened it just enough to lean against the doorframe so I could watch her make the short walk across the dark-gray carpet to the elevator. She swiveled back to face me after pressing the button, and we stared at each other while the elevator beeped to signal that the car was closing in.

She wasn’t a hundred percent committed to yoga tomorrow morning; that was clear enough. The odds of her actually waking up that early were low to begin with. What she really wanted was to sprint back to me, let go of her self-control, and take matters into her own hands for once before falling asleep in my arms as we watched The Office.

You could practically hear her arguing with herself. Her cheeks were tight, with frozen eyes and a twitching mouth, all filled with hesitation. Her thumb and index finger flush with her mouth, almost biting at her fingernails in conflicted tension.

It was coming. Just a few more seconds and she’d be begging me to let her stay.

But before she could resolve her indecision, the elevator dinged, its doors sliding open to welcome her in. I blew her a kiss, and she begrudgingly walked through them. I chuckled once the doors closed and finished the last few drops of my whiskey before returning inside.


The red letters took up the entire first page as Lauren stared at the PDF, slipping strands of her light-blonde hair through the creases of her optimistic, anxious fingers.

She had been working with Hunter on FIT since its inception in early 2011, along with all his other business ideas. Every source of income she had was something he had helped her build. She was thankful for it, but since they had moved to Houston after her high school graduation, Lauren had been looking for something of her own. This particular idea probably wasn’t it, but it was at least a good start.

So, she couldn’t help but smile proudly as she scrolled through the document, checking her work until she was addressed by an assertive yet bubbly voice. “Is anyone sitting here?”

She looked up to the right and saw a woman she instantly recognized as both familiar and a stranger. Lauren’s eyes squinted as if to discern the reason for the juxtaposition, but nothing came to her. Something tugged at the strings of her intuition, but she wasn’t sure what. It felt like she had known the girl in a past life, and she had returned to bring completion to this one in some way with her exact identity and purpose concealed until the proper time.

“No. Sorry, I was a bit distracted.” Lauren chuckled and rolled the cushioned plastic chair back for the girl to sit down. “Go ahead. I’m Lauren. It’s nice to meet you.”

The girl smiled, showing off her deep dimples. There was a comforting quality about her, the way she owned the room so casually and yet brightened every corner of it.

The whole situation seemed utterly random. Yet, the circumstances of Lauren’s past made her believe there’s a reason for everything, including seemingly random encounters like this.

She just hadn’t put two and two together yet.

“I’m Freya. It’s nice to meet you. Your voice is so pretty, by the way. What kind of accent is that?” Freya asked as she set her bag on the wood laminate table and took out her laptop.

“Ha, thank you, I get that a lot.” Lauren smiled. “My brother and I were born in Perth, but we’ve lived here in The States for the last fourteen years. So it’s kind of a mixture of a lot of things.”

“Perth?” Freya was taken aback with curiosity. “Where is that?”

“Australia, way out west.”

“Oh, well, the accent is beautiful. So did you do your undergrad at UH, too? Or is this your first semester?”

“Yeah, I finished my bachelor’s in Management from Bauer in the spring. This is my first semester in the MBA Program, though.” Lauren explained, still attempting to figure out why this girl seemed to just waltz right into this so naturally. Moreover, she was trying to figure out why she couldn’t figure out where she knew this girl from. Lauren never forgot a face. “You look familiar for some reason. Did we have a class together or something?”

Lauren examined the girl again with her investigative and observant eyes. She was naturally beautiful in such a down-to-earth yet radiant way, with no trickery, plastic, or illusions in her appearance. Her hair was as golden as Lauren’s skin, thick and flowing, with eyes as teal as the aurora borealis and countless tiny freckles on her cheeks. It enhanced the immaterial qualities that emanated from how she carried herself, those highly sought-after things only a woman of high value can offer: strength, dignity, and charm.

Simply graceful, much like Lauren herself.

It was on the tip of Lauren’s tongue. There was something…

“Maybe. That’s so weird because I was just thinking the same thing,” Freya expressed, clearly feeling the hazy deja vu as well. “I did my undergrad at Valenti- Strategic Communications. We may have had a few classes overlap. Either way, it’s nice to make a friend.”

“Likewise. I work so much it’s hard to make friends sometimes,” Lauren complained, as she always did. Amongst men and women, it was nearly impossible for her to make genuine connections as an intelligent, successful, and ambitious woman — especially at 23. Almost everything she had found in the last few years was just ‘connections’ and ‘contacts’ — or worse, girls who just want to talk about drama and go get wasted in Midtown every weekend. She’d been looking for that best friend, girl power energy since they moved.

“Oh, tell me about it. What do you do?”

“My brother and I have our own company. Well, several, to be exact. I’ve been working with him since I was sixteen, so we co-own them, but I’m also the COO of our largest one: FIT.”

Freya’s arched eyebrows raised a little higher, and those teal eyes brightened a little to signal that she was impressed with the elevator pitch version of Lauren’s resume.

“That’s awesome, and you’re here getting your MBA, too. You go, girl.”

Lauren laughed. For some reason, the comment loosened her up a little. She was usually so tightly wound, constantly on guard against the endless onslaught of the world’s snakes, sinners, and imbeciles — Brianna chief among them at the moment.

Freya didn’t seem to fall into any of those three classes, though, which brought Lauren some relief. She seemed like a genuine friend. After years of dealing with the fake, the flaky, and the acquaintance, she was happy at the prospect.

“What about you? What do you do?” she returned.

“I’m in organizational consulting, basically helping companies optimize their business processes and utilize their people better. Long term though, I’m going right to that C-suite, girl,” Freya bragged in her cute, subtle southern accent.

“Well, I can definitely help you with that one.”

“Really?” Freya’s head cocked to the side. “Wait, what’s the name of your company again, FIT?”

“Yep. FIT. We sell workout apparel, equipment, and accessories, amongst other things.”

Her eyes grew wide. “No way! That’s why it sounds so familiar. I think I just bought some new gym clothes from there recently. A friend recommended it to me.”

“Yep. That’s us.”

“Oh my gosh. That’s awesome, girl. We need to talk more later,” Freya gushed, handing her phone over. “Here.”

Lauren picked it up and entered her number. “I agree. If you don’t have plans tomorrow night, we can meet for happy hour after I get done at the gym. What area of town are you in?”

“I’m up in The Woodlands.”

“No way!” Lauren laughed. “I live right by Lake Woodlands.”

“Ok, I’m a little farther out, but that’s so crazy!” Freya beamed with her extraverted, friendly essence. “I’m so shocked we haven’t run into each other. Alright, I’m texting you right now.

“Good evening, everyone!” Their professor announced to the room that class was beginning, breaking up the rest of the conversation.

“Ok,” Lauren whispered excitedly. “I know a good spot. I’ll text it to you.”

Amongst all the hope-filled possibilities for her own social life, Lauren got the impression this girl might end up playing a bigger role as she took one more quick look and immediately thought of Hunter.

‘Oh, they’d look perfect together!’ she thought, that strand of intuition beginning to unravel.

As she glanced back to her screen to switch to her note taking app, she took one more lingering look at the PDF of her newest project, where the red and white logo bore the words: FIT Community.

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