Page 19 of Hunted

“I’m going to feast on you, petit loup,” he muses. “And you’re going to take everything I give you.” Lifting my thighs, he smoothly unfastens his cloak with one hand, keeping my gaze hostage with his smoldering gaze. In the corner of my eye I recognize the now familiar tank top and black briefs he’s wearing underneath the heavy garment, and then he pulls them down, freeing his solid length. It’s hard, like my own, and flops against his stomach before he grabs it tight, giving it a few slow pumps.

He smirks. “I’m going to taste you bare, beautiful. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” Lining up against my loosened hole, he raises a brow. I can feel the pressure of his tip, can feel him eager to breach my tightness and devour my heat. “Oui?” He finally asks, when I just stare at him, swallowing.

Oh fuck, despite his words, filthy and hot, dominant as he takes what he wishes, he still asked for my permission. And that’s…I clear my throat. “Oui.” It might be the sweetest thing someone has done to me for quite some time.

“Good boy,” he purrs, then slides inside with one fierce, smooth thrust.

The intrusion is abrupt, overstimulating my senses. My lips part on a silent cry and my heart throbs as it battles between pain and raw need, need to feel Alexandre so close to me.

Someone bangs a gong, while the piano continues to play, and my eyes open in surprise, but the only thing I can see is him. My Bronze Mask. He is leaning forward, weight resting on his elbows, where he lets me rest my legs over his shoulders as he slowly fucks me. His uncovered face is glorious—an exotic contradiction of light and dark. Eyes as dark as the night, large and glimmering, with thick, curvy lashes and perfectly arched brows. An arrogant, Nubian nose and those wet, full lips that always seem to mock and taunt. But not right now.

No. Right now, those lips are parted as if forming a silent question, his inquisitive gaze seared into mine.

Concentration.

Asphyxiation.

There are so many questions I want to ask, but words are formed in my brain, only to evaporate before they make it through my throat, my entire being absorbed by our coupling, by the outside ceremony, meticulously prepared for tonight.

For our desire.

Edouard appears from my left side, only to dip his head and drop a soft kiss on my forehead. He gives me a filthy smile, before he does the same thing to Alexandre, brushing his lips over his cheek, trailing them up to leave a lingering peck on his temple. My cock pulses at the sight. Their noses barely brush, eyes idling just those few seconds, before they both look down at me.

Edouard, still wearing his golden mask, reaches out for my own black silk that’s still securely tight against my face and slides it up and in my hair. He smiles, then ghosts a digit from my cheek to my mouth, finger lingering, never touching.

“How does he feel?” He rasps.

Alexandre lets out a long, satisfying hum that makes my balls tingle. “Like perfection,” he drawls.

Unable to draw it out any longer, and about to be consumed by this feral hunger, I drop a hand and reach for my exposed cock. It leaks in my palm, thumping when my fingers graze the wet slit. Heat licks my insides at the urgent touch, and I let out an unhinged moan while I arch my head back, exposing my neck, in a blind attempt to reach for Alexandre.

He looks down with a smirk, then pats my hand away from my own dick with a nasty slap that makes me yelp. Curling his own hand around my shaft, he brushes his lips past my ear. “From now on, that’s mine to touch, and mine only, you understand?” He squeezes, painfully so, and I let out a whimper as I nod wildly, relieved when he lets go.

Without pulling out of me, Alexandre carefully lets my legs slide off his shoulders. Then, before I realize what’s happening, Golden Mask yanks me up from behind, his hands on my sides as he lifts me by my waist, while Alexandre moves to straddle the altar, cock still buried in my ass that they now have lifted in the air, before he presses me closer and onto his widened thighs. .

“Come on little wolf, ride me,” he groans, voice low and husky. “Ride my fat cock, beautiful.”

I can feel Golden Masks’ hot breath on my shoulder, the illusion of his featherlight touch on my nape, my shoulder blades, my spine as he ghosts kisses on my smoldering skin. I’m on fire.

Inhaling deeply, I pick up the unmistakable scent of incense, a mild floral scent. Lavender? Rosemary?

My head lolls back and onto Golden Mask’s shoulder, their hands both skimming my flesh, groping my ass and cock as they gyrate my hips onto Alexandre’s crotch.

I moan, hearing my own ragged breath and raspy voice, nearing my breaking point.

They’ve got me shivering, enraptured by desire, captured after tonight’s chase.

“Je t’ai chassé,” Alexandre murmurs, his mouth hot against the trembling flesh of my neck. I shudder at the touch, at those words. “Et je t’ai trouvé.”

I hunted you. And I found you.

“Welcome to the Alpha Fraternarii, Olivier,” Elder Jacques booms out of nowhere. I jump, though my desperate body has nowhere to escape to. Both Edouard and Alexandre chuckle, and their sound is contagious, making me laugh too— a little sheepishly— a giggle that turns into a desperate gasp when a hand wraps around my cock and starts stroking.

“Oh God,” I choke. “Yes, yes, please—” The hand builds up a rhythm and my hips adjust, chasing to match, to circle and push, to be driven to madness by desire.

“Not yet,” Alexandre tuts. The hand stops.

“No, no,” I whine, rolling my hips sluggishly in an attempt to bring the sensation back.

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