Page 11 of Hunted

Olivier exhales heavily, flaring his nostrils. From this close, I can finally catch his expression. Jade irises glare at me. “You think that everyone will just bow for you, don’t you?” He snarls.

My frown deepens, genuinely taken aback by the sudden change of subject. “What are you talking about?”

He huffs. “As if you don’t know. Elite of the elite, right? You guys believe that everyone will obey everything you say.”

It sounds bitter, and very confusing. “How did we end up here?” I think out loud. “I was asking your preference about the restraints. I can choose myself if you don’t want to answer me.”

“Listen to yourself!” He lets out. “You think that every single person will just drop at your feet.”

“But I don’t care about every single person.” I snap the sling, then lace it under his nape as I sit further back and wrap my legs around his spread legs, making us face each other entirely and giving him space. “I only care about one.” Using the leather to pull him up, I curve his upper body upwards until he reaches my chest, not quite flush, but close enough. Languidly sweeping off the hood from my head, I free my blond hair, then wrap the leather strap behind my own neck and tie it up in a tight knot to keep our necks together. When I am certain that we are attached, I lean in, my mouth finding his earshell and my fingers dipping behind his ear to where the ends of his silk mask are knotted together. “You.”

Teasing the material, I can only imagine the mask sliding off, revealing his handsome face. Those green eyes, large and innocent, that elegant button nose, small and straight, and his pale skin and diamond shaped face filled with freckles. No. I won’t take off his mask. Not yet.

Olivier shivers but doesn’t stop me from trailing a hand down and to our groins. Like me, he’s hard, just like I hoped he’d be. “Tell me something, petit loup, did you let your ex-boyfriend fuck you?”

He inhales a sharp breath, then jerks his head in a nod. Tracing the shape of his erection with slow circles, I let out a satisfying hum. “And did you ever claim his ass?”

His cock throbs behind its restraints, hardening even further under my slow perusal.

“I—” He clears his throat, then takes in another big gulp of air. One of his hands snakes up to touch the leather sling that’s wrapped around his nape, and when he licks his lips I can’t help but wonder why. Is it fear? Maybe. His shoulders are hunched and his behaviour, skittish. Is it arousal? He is hard, his pupils blown. “I didn’t really want that,” he finally mutters, avoiding my gaze. It’s bashfulness, I realize. His delicious hesitance. “I sometimes pleasured him with my mouth or something, but I wasn’t really into it.” His voice is softer now, having lost his earlier bravado.

All he needed was a good chase, followed by being tied up, to give into the moment. The thought makes me inwardly purr.

“You weren’t really into it?” I echo, wanting him to give me more. My fingers crawl further down to catch a flitting feel of his balls before I let them slide back up. It’s enough for Olivier’s hips to buck forward and he lets out a soft mewl that has my own dick weeping with desire. “Into what?” I insist.

“Into this.” It sounds like an accusation, the words followed by another uncontrolled roll of his hips that has me salivating. “I’m not much into this.”

Dipping my head forward until our foreheads touch, I catch his eye. A glassy stare has overtaken the earlier glare, one that shows his confusion and vulnerability. It flickers like jewels, and pulls at a string in my chest. Putain, he is sweet.

“Don’t worry. When you’re mine, I’ll teach you all about pleasure,” I promise him.

“Yours?” He frowns, eyes turning wide when he catches the moment my mouth dips towards his. “I think?—”

“Sshh.” I brush my lips against his, and for the first time tonight, he obeys. “And don’t think for once. Just feel.” Putting a little more pressure behind our touch, I press a kiss onto his lips, and another one. His mouth is pliant, and soft, its shape made to accommodate mine. His bottom lip carries a slight pout that begs to be nipped at and toyed with. Not right now though. This is all about showing him my intentions. About delivering a promise.

Olivier lets out a sigh, and I use the subtle invitation to slip my tongue inside his mouth, nudging him to open wider for better reach. He does, once more obeying, much to my pleasure, and while I revel in his snug warmth, my fingers play with the buttons of his pants. They pop, followed by the unzipping of the rest. My fingers creep over his waistband, slipping inside. And then I have free reign.

“Alexandre,” Olivier gasps, and my dick pulses with heat. Fuck, how I love the way my name rolls off his tongue. He’s too late though, because my fingers are already inside his pants. And they are welcomed by the heat and wetness of his eager cock.

“Hmm,” I hum. “You feel good, beautiful. Hot and hard, and leaking for me.” Capturing his mouth once more with mine, I swipe my tongue home with one firm lick as my hands works his dick. Olivier lets out a moan, throaty and unhinged, and he whispers words that I swallow altogether with his desire.

“What was that?” I ask, pulling back just a little to gaze at him. His pupils are blown, and he carries a rosy color on his cheeks that suit him well.

“Nothing,” he rushes to answer.

“Come on, you can tell me.”

“No.”

“Come onnn.” Am I pouting? Fuck yeah, I am. But I won’t tolerate any secrets from my chosen one.

Olivier lets out a laugh, followed by another moan when I pull his cock completely out of his briefs and into the open, swiping my thumb over his wet slit. Sliding my fingers, slippery with pre-cum, down his shaft, and he bucks his hips once more, his body shuddering.

“Désolé, I haven’t been touched in a while,” he admits. “If you continue like this—” He lets out a long wail, followed by another roll of his hips, “I might just come.”

Grabbing his shoulder to pull him in close, I make sure to gather the next bead of pre-cum from his slit, then curl my fingers around his shaft and into a tight ring. “Fuck into my hand, petit loup. Show me what makes you feel good.”

“No—I—” he argues, but his hips are already pumping, back and forth, back and forth, right into my hand. He cuts himself off with another moan, and I love him for being so vocal. I love an expressive bed partner and I’m thrilled that my chosen one is loud.

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