Prince Hunter: A Prince of Tease Novel (Princes of Tease Book 2)

by Xavier Neal

  “No. There was a car crash. My father died on impact and my mother spent a week on life support before my grandfather finally pulled the plug.”

  This isn't good first date talk is it? Shit, I know I'm rusty but dead parents seem like third or fourth date conversation starter.

  “Smells great,” she cheerfully changes the subject without allowing time for a reaction or a response. In a way I'm slightly relieved. “Need some help? I can toss a mean salad.”

  After receiving a playful wink, I chuckle, “No rabbit food tonight, Sugar. Meat and potatoes, remember?”

  Rory joins my side at the same time I scoop a few potatoes onto our plates. She takes a long, deep breath, catching my attention once more. The sight of her eyes closed, tits rising, and slightly parted lips stirs up more than just a groan.

  Makes sense she works in a funeral home considering she's probably going to be the death of me at this rate. At least I know when she kills me, she'll dress me up nice.

  “I can grab my own plate.”

  “No,” I quickly deny. “You can take that beautiful body of yours over to the dinin' room table.”

  She offers me a seductive smirk. “You know I'm not a damsel in distress...”

  “And I was raised a gentleman. Now go.”

  Rory smiles and grabs the bottle of sparkling water. “Fine. But I'm taking the water.”

  Is it odd I find her stubbornness sexy as hell?

  While she takes the bottle, the two glasses, and my beer, I move the plates along with silverware and napkins.

  Once the two of us are seated, I wink. “Watch this.”

  With the push of a button on the wall beside me the thick dark brown curtains that block the floor to ceiling windows part, letting in the bright lights from the skyline.

  There's a small gasp followed by a sweet sigh. “That's breathtaking.”

  I smile proudly. “Glad you appreciate it.”

  “Love being this high off the ground,” she whispers more to herself than me.

  So the woman likes heights. Better than being afraid of them. Though...I'm gettin' the feelin' she's not afraid of much.

  Rory begins to cut into her steak. “You're not from the city. What brought you here?”

  Now I know that's not first date talk.

  “Needed a change,” I casually brush off.

  To no surprise she slyly questions, “You don't wanna pull at that thread?”

  In a low voice I counter, “Not on the first date.”

  “What makes you think there'll be a second?”

  Her remarks shifts my eyes to see a playful sparkle in hers. Lifting my silverware, I retort, “Because I'm not afraid to work for one.”

  Rory's giggle fills my penthouse.

  Hell, I could listen to that sound all damn day.

  After a few bites and well-earned compliments on the food, she says, “Won't tell me what you're running away from-”

  “What makes you think I'm runnin'?”

  “The pain in your eyes when I asked why you came.”

  Shit. Could you see it too?

  “But....where did you come from?”

  “Very small town about eight hours from here.”

  When I say small, I mean most people don't even know it's on a map. Hell we own all the property in it. Then again, the majority of it is for the company or is the company. What? No. I don't wanna discuss business right now. Can't you see the blonde I'm tryin' to bond with? Let's not be rude now...

  “That's why you have an accent.”

  Shaking my head, I lean back in my seat and have a sip of beer. “Typically, I'm pretty good about dialin' it back.”

  Her forehead wrinkles. “Why would you ever do that?”

  “People ask less questions when you don't have one. You blend in better.”

  “Why would you ever wanna blend in?” She says, genuine curiosity in her voice.

  In a moment of complete honesty, unsure I have anything to lose, I reply, “Sometimes standin' out too long brings more trouble than it should.”

  Rory wipes her hands on her napkin and leans forward towards me. “You should always be yourself. Whatever that means. Life is too short to waste time being anyone else. Sure, standing out might get you noticed, being different might draw attention, but no life worth living was ever spent trying to blend in.”

  Her statement moves my fickle appetite from treading through to completely finished.

  With all the bullshit I went through four years ago, not sure I agree. Not sure I disagree either.

  “Besides, I don't know if we would've ever met if you would've been busy trying to blend in Cowboy.”

  The truth in that statement swells my chest.

  “If it matters at all, I really like the accent.”

  “Is that righ'?”

  “Think it's sexy.” She bites her bottom lip briefly. “Really like when you call me Sugar.”

  I shift in my seat. “And why's that?”

  Rory slides her plate next to mine. “Makes me feel special. You always hear women called babe and baby. Can't remember the last time anyone said anything remotely different. I like things that are different.”

  A pleased hum leaves me. “You Sugar, are definitely different.”

  Suddenly a flush color fills her cheek and she tempts, “Where are the orgasms you promised?”

  My cock responds with a thud against my jeans in agreement before my lips even have a chance to rebut.

  Damn thing would've been balls deep in her in the damn doorway like she wanted if he had a say. I'll tell you what, while I don't blame him for a hot minute, I've enjoyed gettin' to know more than her O face.

  “Orgasms?” I playfully question. “Plural? I only recall agreein' to one.”

  She pins me with a sarcastic look. “Are you honestly gonna tell me, one is enough?”

  I try to stifle the urge to groan, but it escapes anyway prompting a smile. Not wanting her to have the control she so apparently does, I give our dishes a glance. “You done, already?”

  She nods and smoothly says, “Wasn't exactly the type of meat I was in the mood for.”

  Lord help me.

  Rising to my feet, I grab the dishes and instruct, “Go wait for me by the window.”

  Excitement bursts in her eyes, but she doesn't object. She gracefully glides across the room while I move the plates to the kitchen needing the moment to clear my head before I bust a nut prior to getting started.

  First of all, how the hell do I go from barely bein' able to get off to barely being able to hold on? Second...believe it or not, sleepin' with her isn't actually on the menu, but we both know if I don't get a hold of this shit right now, my dick is gonna decide otherwise.

  After a couple calming breaths, I round my way out of the open kitchen, and lean against the edge of the wall, watching her admire the view of the city lights. Her body innocently sways back and forth tantalizing me like hunter to its prey.

  In a strong voice I state, “You like to be heard.”

  She glances over her shoulder. “I do.”

  “Do you like to be watched?”

  The question sparks the response I expected. Her eyebrows rise and she eagerly replies, “I do.”

  Slowly, I stroll her direction until my hips are pressed firmly against hers and my lips are brushing her ear. “You see that buildin' across the street?”

  She nods.

  “It's a hotel.” While she continues to stare at it I observe the way her breath has begun to shorten, her body is tensing, and her eyelids have lowered as if anticipating the next words. “See how many windows there are? See how many have their curtains open? See how many people are about to watch you scream?”

  The whimper whips through her body causing her legs to wobble.

  I casually back up, leaving her in an aroused state.

  The moment I pull the end table open, she softly asks, “Why rope?”

  “Why do you like being watched?”

 
To my surprise, she turns around and presses her back against the glass. “I like the rush of someone seeing or hearing me in the rawest form. Stripped of any possible inhibitions. Completely alive in every truest sense of the word. ”

  Back in front of her, I command. “Hands.”

  She places them out in front of her. “Your turn.”

  I begin to make the first loop with my eyes planted on the task rather than in hers. “I've always been a fan of rope since I was a kid and Granddaddy taught us the importance of knowin' how to tie a good knot.” As I continue quickly preparing the restraint, I explain, “I was a natural. From calves to hogs to snares. When I got a little older, I liked the amount of trust given.” My hands effortlessly move even though my eyes are now in hers. “Somethin' about another human trustin' me enough to know when no means no, trustin' me enough to control their level of pleasure, and trustin' me enough to rely on me for everything they need in those few moments turns me the hell on.”

  Her eyes widen and I helplessly smile.

  After placing the rope around both her wrists, I pull and announce, “These are Texas Handcuffs.” Once in place I begin to tie again. “Gonna add a surgeons knot to further secure it. You won't be gettin' away from me any time soon, Sugar.”

  She tries to steady her breathing. “Wouldn't even think about it.”

  Finally finished, I wrap a hand around the nape of her neck, and lock my mouth onto hers. Our tongues twist, tangling until the thrusting of my tongue matches the tugging on the rope. Her soft moans slowly attempt to stun my senses.

  I abruptly pull back. “Turn around. Hands braced against the glass. Legs spread. Ass out.”

  Rory follows my instructions precisely.

  Hell, this is the only thing I've been cravin' all night.

  Sliding underneath her, so my own back is against the glass, I trail my hand up her creamy thigh absorbing every shudder she offers. The second my finger grazes the area where panties should be, I hungrily growl, “No trophy tonight?”

  She drops her head down to give me a smile. “Consider it punishment for making me wait until after dinner for this.”

  I give her a stern expression and dip a finger inside. The stolen gasp pleases more than my ears. “It'll be worth the wait, Sugar. Always.”

  Rory's eyes close while her head falls backwards. Slowly I begin to pump my finger, dragging it all the way out before sharply returning it. The excruciating precise movements only become even more unbearable when I add a second finger.

  “Cowboy...”

  Unable to restrain myself any longer with my nickname dripping from her tongue, I swiftly lift up the end of her dress and swap fingers for mouth. The sound of her hands bumping against the glass alongside the sound of her breath hitching has my cock crying once again for a turn.

  Comin' in your jeans in your twenties is pathetic. I am not pathetic....I am not pathetic...Hell, I'm almost willin' to be.

  Shutting my eyes, I bury myself in the flavor of what I imagine heaven must taste like. Ferociously I feast on her pussy as much as the moans and quakes she's heavily supplying. My hands grip her ass ferally at the same time the first orgasm seeps onto my tongue that will not stop until I've lapped up every last drop she's delivering.

  No other man will ever taste this. At least not without a helluva fight. Hell, I'm startin' to understand what's got that asshole from the bakery all wound up tight. I reckon I'd be in the mood to fight over the idea of anyone else's tongue on this woman.

  In a quick motion, I slide underneath her, left her skirt back up and restart the process this time dragging my tongue along her ass crack.

  “Cowboy,” my nickname falls from her lips like a wish waiting to be granted.

  I smirk. Repeat the action.

  The desperation in her voice grows. “Hunter...”

  Before she has the chance to beg again, I immerse my tongue in her pussy and ass in a torturous tandem. Rory's body helplessly bangs against the glass once more, teetering on the brink of too much and too perfect. With my hands taking turns being anchored on her luscious ass and slender hips, I greedily gorge desperate to indulge in her flavors. All of a sudden another orgasm begins to engulf her, the moans transforming from pleas to proclamations of a new level of ecstasy achieved. Hearing the sound frees something barbaric inside I wasn't aware existed. Something so new and unfamiliar, a knot begins to form in the pit of my stomach.

  This. This righ' here is the shit I'm always hopin' to achieve whenever a woman is willing to be vulnerable for me. Whenever one is willing to make this sort of submission. This level of trust. Hasn't really happened in four years. I'll tell you wha'...May not know her last name, but I know damn well I'm the only man who will ever provide her with this level of pleasure again. I guarantee it.

  Rory

  I let a smile slide across my face. “Are you scared?”

  Hunter looks over the edge and then back at me. “Nah.”

  Giggling, I continue to tease, “You look pretty scared. Like really scared. Maybe we shouldn't do this. Maybe you should back down. Maybe it's not worth the risk.”

  His eyes glaze over with the dark shade they always do when I push him. Test him.

  He likes it. Hell, I like it. Crazy as it may sound everything really is so much hotter when you can see the passion pumping in someone's veins. The thrill toying with their sanity. Sometimes letting the insanity out is a necessity. Sometimes the insanity is freeing. Haven't come across many men willing to show me the unpolished versions of themselves. Maybe that's why Hunter's still got my attention. He's not afraid to let me see the untamed side. I prefer it.

  “We're doin' this.” He strips off his shirt and tosses it to the side. “I'm just....more accustomed to doin' it with a rope.”

  “You're more accustomed to doing everything with a rope,” I mock with a laugh.

  The grin on his face is one that has an impressive track record for successfully making me melt.

  Panties included.

  “What can I say? Life's better with a little...tension.”

  The sexual implication is accompanied with a wicked expression.

  To be 100 percent truthful, which is my policy to be in my life, I'm still not sure it's a good idea for us to keep dating. Not even sure I would call it dating exactly. Over the last week we've met for dinner at a few of my favorite spots around town, but used it more as an appetizer to something much more delicious. I swear it's like he did a Google search on how to please a woman and spent a decade studying the results. He's incapable of not making me come. Seriously! We're talking body completely drained and depleted, unable to hold myself up for a minute longer, and my body still feeds the insatiable hunter inside of him. His name really does suit him. He's always hunting and my pussy is more than willing to be the prey. That's a shock within itself. Like most things in my life, I'm temperamental when it comes to sex. The majority of men who I've fallen into bed with haven't passed the one night mark though they've begged profusely. I don't believe in pity fucks. Hell, I don't believe in doing anything that doesn't make me smile. Make me happy. Make me feel...like life is worth living. I also don't have friends who don't instill the same emotions. Hunter does all of those things. Effortlessly. It scares the hell out me since I've never had a guy I went out with do this to me, but at the same time it only makes me want him around more. That's a new feeling too. While I have a special place in my heart for new things, not sure I wanna put wrapped up in the high of Hunter in there yet. Seems similar to committing to me. And that's something I just don't do.

  He clears his throat. “So are we jumpin' or what, Sugar?”

  I wiggle out of my jean shorts and shoes.

  The minute he gets his first look at me in light pink string bikini he grumbles, “Aw hell, jumpin' with a hard on seems like a shitty idea.”

  “Then you better tuck it back in because it's time to nut up or shut up, Cowboy.” I take a few wide strides backwards before taking off full speed and lunging
myself off the edge of the cliff. Air rushes around me while adrenaline pumps through my blood. For the smallest heartbeat of a second, I feel completely free. Free from the weight of the world. Free from the strings of societies expectations for someone like me. Free from all the bullshit that tries to block natural desires to live for pure pleasure instead of mundane responsibilities. My body crashes into the warm water.

  Thank goodness summer hasn't gotten the memo it's technically fall. I don't think Hunter would've joined me if it was colder outside. I would've gone regardless. I dive into this lake at least once every season of the year. Yeah. Nothing like ice cold water to get your heart racing on Christmas Eve.