by Xavier Neal
“Straight back and to the right.”
In an effortless motion, Hunter picks me up, and carries me through my gray and white decorated living room. My body molds to his while I tug his earlobe between my teeth. The fierce growl it conjures tears through me, leaving my pussy wet in its wake. Seconds later, I'm falling onto my steel colored comforter, with him on top of me. All of a sudden the two of us become relentless in our pursuit to connect. He tries to yank my costume up while I attempt to free his dick from his jeans, yet rather than meeting any type of success we end up in a heated, tangled frustration.
Finally, Hunter pins my hands above my head. “Stay.”
I keep my hands leaned against the white, cushioned headboard. As I watch him swiftly shed his pants, tear the package and roll the condom on, I whimper in agony from the orgasm already pending. Hunter parts my legs and tosses them on his shoulders as promised. He doesn't wait a moment longer to dive deep inside, dick darting straight to the hilt.
“Damn,” he says breathlessly.
His swollen cock slowly continues to stretch the slippery muscles. Each time he nudges his shaft forward my body arches off the bed, the promised night of moaning not an empty one. Without hesitation, I surrender myself to the elation found in every thrust. The europhia in every kiss. The inexplicable need in every moan. Hunter pistons ruthlessly, an obsession to provide pleasure controlling the way he caressed my G-spot and clit in a torturous tandem. An orgasm breaks through barely having time to make itself known before another is on its heels, harsher and heavier.
My nails claw at the head board above me at the same time I praise, “Hunter...”
His warm lips lightly knock against mine. “You want me to come too, Sugar?”
The question quakes through me, muscles increasing their efforts to return the favor.
There's a brute grunt of satisfaction before his body finally shatters. Our mouths link once more, the vibrations from his explosion rocking through me, igniting my nerves ends on fire, rekindling the process all over again.
His chest heaves as he asks, “Do you have more condoms?”
Knowing the problem from his past, I cautiously counter, “You wanna trust mine?”
Without hesitation he replies, “I trust you.”
The feeling is definitely mutual, which is not something I can say I'm used to.
For the next several hours the two of us become a ravenous heap of rapture with one common intention. Breaks for breathing only occur when new condoms are being rolled in place and the only words passed between us outside of names are instructions for speed or intensity.
The tricks his cock can do are definitely a treat...Man I'm glad I remember to take my pill before we left for the party.
When the two of us reach the point where we can't hold up our bodies any more, we collapse onto the sweat drenched sheets side by side.
“Three days is too long to go without you, Sugar,” Hunter complains still out of breath.
I can't help but smile.
No one's ever expressed an inability to not get enough of me. I think I like it.
He shifts onto his side and strokes the side of my body. “This is normally the part where I go get you somethin' to drink, but I don't know how you feel about me rummagin' 'round in your kitchen.”
I roll my head around to stare into his brown eyes. “You may only rummage if you're making me post orgasm food.”
He lightly chuckles. “Eggs?”
“With...”
“Cheese. Bacon crumbles. And Jalapenos.”
“Exactly.”
“Do you even have all those?”
There's an unexpected pause out of me as I realize I don't.
I used to. Hell, I'd come home after a one night stand, whip it up, take a nap, and be up working before the sun rose, but now that I spend most nights at Hunter's I stopped buying those things. Huh. Holy hell. I really am switching into the full relationship thing.
My stomach knots in minor objection.
Quietly he questions, “Rory, what's wrong?”
Shaking my head, I sigh, “Nothing.”
The disappointed look in his eyes from my line makes me cave.
“Really, it's not a huge deal. It just hit me that because I spend most nights at your place I don't...I don't have those things here anymore. It's just weird. The whole...girlfriend thing.”
He nods. “Ah.”
Optimistically I snap, “But I'm getting better! We made Halloween plans-”
“We did.”
“We picked out the costumes together.”
“We did that too.”
“And...and....and you're in my apartment.”
He presses his lips to my stomach softly, the kiss causing a happy sigh to fall from me. “I am.” Afterwards he looks back at me. “But I didn't mean we had to have sex here. Not that I'm complainin'. I just wanted to be invited in. Welcomed even if it was jus' for a minute.”
My fingers begin to toy with his brown locks. “I don't mind you here...”
Sharing where I spend very little time wasn't really the issue. It's what sharing actually means. The whole beginning of a relationship thing. But like I said. I'm adjusting and it's not bad yet. Even the little 'mundane' things. Like eggs after sex.
“Except for the whole can't make you eggs?”
“Yeah. Oh! And you're penthouse has all our toys.”
He hums and places another kiss on my skin. “I like that they're our toys.”
The comment rubs me the wrong direction. “Well they are, right? There's no one else, is there?”
An angered look thrums through his eyes as he leans back to brace himself on his arm. “No. I was under the impression this relationship is monogamous. Am I wrong?”
“No-”
“Are you sleepin' around?”
“No.” Quickly, sitting up, I tug my legs to my chest. “I would've never agreed to try to do this whole relationship thing if that was the case.”
“Then why'd you ask me if there was someone else?”
Fumbling and confused, two things he makes me too often, I shrug. “I don't know. Why else would it make you happy I called them our toys.”
“Because you said our.”
I don't follow.
“Because you're not as skittish 'bout referencin' us as a unit rather than just two people who have really good sex. Because you enjoy bondage with me. It's not a dirty little secret I have to keep locked away like so many other things. The joy from hearin' those words has nothin' to do with anyone else.”
An unusual wave of relief washes over me.
It's not like I would've been livid if he had been seeing someone else. Life's about living and enjoying it. I would never stand in the way of another person's happiness even if I don't think I would have been thrilled to find out someone else was riding my cowboy.
He tries not to smile. “That's the first time I've ever seen you remotely jealous.”
“I wasn't jealous,” I quickly deny.
“You were, Sugar. I saw it.”
“No.” Shaking my head profusely, I continue to insist, “No. I just wanna know we're on the same page. That's all.”
Hunter doesn't poke at it any further and once more I'm relieved.
“Speaking of growth,” I begin at the same time I roll his body over to straddle him. “Do you wanna come to Mal's wedding with me in a couple weeks?”
“Not the growth I thought we were going to discuss.” He rocks his slightly stirred cock against me. “But...yeah. I'd love to go with you. Is it gonna be awkward? You know considering....”
“Honestly? Not sure if she even remembers, which is such a shame, because that was some of the hottest sex I've ever had.”
Hunter grins. “Me too.”
“In fact Cowboy,” I trail a finger down his chest, “why don't we recreate part of that right now?”
His hands snake around my sides to give my ass a squeeze of encouragement.
Plans, s
haring, and a hint of jealousy all in one night? What the hell is he doing to me? At this rate next thing you know it'll be me looking to book a stripper for my own bachelorette party. Why aren't you laughing? It was a joke. A very real joke. I'm not the happily ever after 'til death do us part kind of woman. You know that by now. Hell, he knows that too. Whatever this is between us now is fantastic and it's perfect for me right now. What's the point in dwelling on the future when there may or may not be one anyway?
Hunter
Nothing like having your scrotum waxed on an already shitty week.
Through gritted teeth I gripe, “Tell me you're fucking done, Colleen.”
Her blonde bobbed head appears in my vision. “I am. And you'd think after two years of this shit, you'd grow a pair.”
I sit up and joke, “It'd be a lot easier to do if you weren't trying to rip 'em off.”
“Oh you're such a drama queen.”
Grabbing my shorts out of her hand, I wiggle back into them and sigh, “Says the one with the wax....not getting waxed.”
“For your information, I do get waxed.”
“You think it's worth it?”
“My girlfriend does.” She winks. “Doesn't yours?”
I smile at the thought of Rory's mouth exploring every smooth inch of the territory.
Not sure I'll keep getting my nuts waxed if I quit, but as for the rest of the area? Definitely worth a little pain.
“Before you head out, French said to stop by her office.”
Thoughtlessly I groan.
Gettin' my ass chewed out is the last thing I'm in the mood for. Hell, I'd rather Colleen start waxin' me all over again. I haven't seen my girlfriend for longer than a brief lunch all week. She says it's just been a crazy schedule, but something inside of me is gnawin' that that's just an excuse. That she's hidin' from the emotions she let free Halloween night. That her fear of commitment is clenching around her throat, so she feels she can't breathe. That's the last way I want her to feel. I love spending time with her, hell if I'm being completely honest, I'm in love with her, so the absolute last thing I want is to scare her off. But hell it's no picnic tip toein' around shit. Most men worry about how to avoid havin' these types of talks because they don't wanna piss off their girlfriends who are applyin' too much pressure. Me? I've gotta be the only man in the world who is avoidin' having these talks because he doesn't wanna piss off his girlfriend by bein' the one to apply the pressure. It's not that I need her to agree to marry me today. I just...I wanna know we're headin' towards somethin' more. And don't bother askin'. Of course I want her to have my last name someday. I'd have to be out of my goddamn mind not to want that.
I use the tip of my finger to push French's black office door, which is slightly cracked open. Behind her long glass desk is where she's sitting, leaned back in her leather chair, phone pressed to her ear. Her dark brown eyes shift up to me. I gulp. She motions sharply for me to sit in the chair in front of her desk. Cautiously, I do so, the gold chandelier above my head shining down like a spotlight.
Gorgeous office, huh? The black and gold décor of the rugs and seating obviously matches the rest of the building, but the real treasures in this room are the ones you can't see. For instance, see the red chair in the corner, the only object that doesn't fit in? Well beside it is a drop down panel with a bulletproof glass window leading to a smaller financial office for Mr. Money Bags. The man who deals with counting our cash and takin' French's small cut at the end of the night. The wall opposite of it, the panel shifts up and she can watch every inch of the business areas of the building and the hallways of the two floors where some of the dancers actually live, on screens. It's basically fit for a queen in here. Pun intended.
“As you were informed when this conversation first began, the monthly does not waver and what appears on your statement will never be traced back to where it is you're actually spending your money.” The pause is brief. “Yes. I will transfer you to billing to get the process started.” French pushes a button and sighs, “Line two.”
Once she hangs up, I sit up in the black leather chair. “You uh...uh...wanted to see me Queen?”
French turns her chair to the side and crosses her leg. “Tell me, Prince H. What is my top priority when it comes to my business?”
I wait for a moment to see if it's rhetorical question before responding, “Anonymity.”
“Good. And what's underneath that?”
“Protection of your princes.”
“Very good,” her cold voice states. “Those are two things I pride myself in handling with style, grace, and accuracy. They are also the two thing I do not allow anyone to fuck with.”
I remain silent.
“When you started, I knew everything about you from your birth name and the legacy that came with it to the drunk driving incident technically not on your record.”
I was fifteen, we were on our family property, and it was a tractor. We all did dumb shit when we were younger. Didn't you?
“I knew where you came from. I knew what you were running from. I knew exactly what you were looking for. You wanted more than a change of scenery. You wanted more than space from some gold digging backwoods trailer trash. You wanted a real change of lifestyle. You wanted out from underneath your parent's kingdom. So I let you into mine. I made you a prince. I've protected you and your secrets ever since.”
In a whisper I say, “And I'm beyond grateful for that Queen.”
She folds her hands. “Which is the only reason I am giving you the courtesy notice I am. Your brother Samuel is asking all the wrong questions to all the right people.”
The leak of information has me leaning forward.
“What is my top priority, Prince H?”
“Anonymity.”
“It's not a cheap or easy rule to continuously enforce yet I do. Damn near flawlessly. I do whatever it takes to ensure my members as well as my princes secrets here are secure.”
A small spark of fury ignites inside. “Are you threatenin' my brother?”
“No. He's threatening you.” French calmly continues, “He's threatening everything you've spent the last couple of years building for yourself. Now, I know at the end of the year there's a decision that has to be made, but until then you're still under contract with me, which means protecting you and my business is what comes first. The problem with your brother requires minimal effort to solve. I know all about your brother's drug addiction, but I don't think you do.”
“He likes to dabble in coke every once in awhile. Says it calms him down when he's stressed.”
She gives me a short shake of her head. “Your brother’s drug habit has landed him in waters he can't wade. He currently owes a well-known crime family, the Malones, ten grand-”
“I can pay that-”
“Every month for twelve months.”
My jaw drops in disbelief.
“Payments he's having trouble making by the way. They wanted all of their money up front, but they were lenient as a favor to someone.”
French. French protected him for me. She really does do whatever it takes for us whether we see it or not.
“You don't honestly think it's only politician's wives, celebrities, and heiress in the crowd, do you?”
Truthfully, never gave it much thought before this moment.
“From my understanding, after the start of the new year, there's a high probability he won't be able to pay them at all unless you decide to stay here and your father decides to give him your position instead. Though from what I've gathered about your family it's not a likely scenario he'd ever offer it to him. However, your big brother is turning over every rock he can in a desperate attempt to find something that would sway your father's opinion about you. He needs all the help he can get to build a better case for himself in your father's eyes.”
Pop has always been harder on Sam than me. When we were growin' up it never stopped my big brother from being there for me, but I swear, as soon as he learned Pop wa
nted me to run the damn company he began to draw back. I didn't get it. Sam's never been the in your face people person type. He loved workin' with the animals while it was me who got along better with the workers. Sittin' in some corporate chair seems like it would make him miserable. I don't know why he's gunnin' so hard for the position. Well, other than it might help pay off drug dealers. Hell...
“There are two very different ways I can handle his unappreciated exploration. Neither will please you, so I am giving you one final chance to put your brother in check, before I do.” She leans forward. “No one fucks with my members. No one fucks with my princes. No one fucks with me. Are we clear?”
