Page 8 of Hunted for Halloween
He's clad in a crisp black shirt for the evening. It's almost as if he just got off work, judging by how the sleeves are stylishly rolled up to his elbows, revealing those veiny large arms. His top buttons are undone, giving me a sinful peek of his broad chest.
My gaze trails up his face and my breath catches in my lungs. I’m finally alone with him. I can fully assess how he looks and by God, he looks like some seductive viking sculpted by Greek gods to specifically seduce and destroy me. His face is drawn into thick dark brows, those fucking whiskey eyes, an aristocratic nose and thick sensual lips that said dirty things to me the othernight. His squared jawline is kissed with perfectly tamed stubble that I want to feel tickling my skin while he pins me against a surface and fucks my brains out.
Shit where did that come from?
“Hello, Pumpkin.”
His husky voice melts against my skin like sin, causing me to inhale sharply and take a step backwards. The cold, edgy look in his amber eyes doesn't falter, stiffening my spine to a point of ache.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I spit out venomously, trying to control my raging heartbeat.
He stares at me, his eyes dead, yet searing every corner it touches on my body. My toes curl against the marble tiles, digging into it, and I'm tempted to rub my thighs together to control the heat gathering between them.
“How did you know where I live? Did my Dad tell you?” I bombard him with questions, my voice shaky with fear.
He stalks forward like a predator. “I didn't have to ask Jonathan. I run a security company. I can find anyone I want to find.” He says with an audacity that makes me want to smack him hard across the face.
My eyes widen in horror. “What? So you are stalking me now?” I exclaimed, taking slow steps backwards.
He lets himself into my house and clicks the door shut. My heart beats violently, threatening to punch a hole right through my chest.
“It's not stalking when I'm trying to keep tabs on what's mine, Pumpkin.” He turns to me swiftly when he's done looking around the living room. He nods at his own words but when his eyes sensually peruse my body, hardening my nipples, they darken with hunger.
“I'm not yours, you psycho!” I yell, clenching my hands in fists.
“Is that so?” he cocks his head to the side, stopping by the fireplace. I breathe heavily. “Coming on my fingers like a very good little girl would prove otherwise. I can still taste you in my mouth, you know?” he says, his voice raspy.
I shake my head. “Look, you are my Dad's best friend. If I knew who you were, I'd never have let you touch me, so let's just…consider that night a mistake.” I suggest shakily.
“A mistake?” he scoffs, snatching one of the skull strings off the fireplace. My heartbeat quickens, shivers running down my spine.
“Yes,” I whisper, staggering backwards. I'm not prepared for my legs hitting the edge of the sofa, dropping onto its surface with a thud.
“You came all over my fingers like a slut. You called me Daddy. You moaned and screamed for more. Most of all, when I asked you to run, you stayed because you wanted me to fuck you, to do the dirty things that you have always fantasized about to you.” Christian eats up the distance between us with every word, twirling the string in his hands.
I gasp, arousal coating my shorts. My breasts feel so heavy as my chest heaves, my lashes fluttering rapidly as I take in his controlled, predatory steps. My breath shortens when he crouches before me. I want to snap my legs shut to hide the wet patch on my shorts but his eyes follow the movement, darkening with anger.
“I don't want you.” I lie smoothly.
My pussy throbs, my buds pucker against my oversized tee, my veins are pumping with neediness and my booty shorts are drenched. If that's not me wanting him, then I don't know what it is.
“Really?” he snorts sarcastically, the edges of his lips tilting in an amused smirk.
I nod. His jaw clenches sharply.
“Yes,” I quickly correct myself.
“Spread your legs, let's see if you are telling the truth.” He commands me, still clinging to his calm, controlled facade.
I'm supposed to shake my head and tell him to go to hell, but I find myself spreading my legs wide. Maybe if I let him ease this throbbing sensation between my legs, I'll forget all about him and move on.
Just once. Just this once.
He rises sharply to his feet. His tall, muscular frame dwarfs me where I'm seated on the sofa like his hungry kitten, my shorts drenched and my boobs heavy. I part my lips greedily when he leans in, his darkened whiskey eyes peering into mine, his intoxicating scent and dark aura swallowing me whole. Christian grabs both of my hands, tying them above my head with the skull strings. They click against one another when I try to move them.
“Christian, what are you doing?” I blink, confused.
“Hands above your head, Pumpkin. You won't call me anything aside from Daddy while I eat you out until you faint, understood?” My cheeks flare with heat and I bite down on my lips.