Page 20 of Hunted

“You seem grateful, brother,” the Elder continues. When our eyes meet, his are filled with a leering glare.

Alexandre slaps my naked ass cheek and lets out a bark of laughter when I flinch in humiliation. “Oh, he is. Aren’t you, little wolf?” He leans in, brushing my ear with his mouth. “Just play the game.”

I swallow. “Yes, I am.” My voice sounds too loud.

Behind us, the piano still plays, a blindfolded Dominique still like a statue except for his dancing hands.

“You look beautiful like this,” Alexandre muses. “Sitting on my cock, riding me sweetly. Hold on tight, beautiful, because the journey’s long and the night is still early.”

9

ALEXANDRE

“Remember that night in the library?” I ask him. Olivier is sitting in my lap, rolling his hips, panting heavily. A bead of sweat trickles down his blond hair that’s messy from Edouard’s petting. The air feels sinfully thick, as if our surroundings know exactly what we’re doing out here.

As if they too, are watching. The inanimate trees, the stars and the sky.

They should. We are invincible, the crème de la crème of our society, the ones who rule, inside and outside castle walls.

We. Are. Privileged.

Damn right, we are.

“You looked serene that night, petit loup.” Olivier’s eyes are large, his stare glassy from arousal and exertion as he watches me, penetrating my gaze as if in search. “What?” I ask, wanting to know what enigma he needs to unravel.

“I don’t understand,” he blurts inelegantly, flushing even more from the spilled words. “I mean—” he shifts on my lap, bites on a groan when the angle pleases him, and after giving him a subtle nod, Edouard leans in from behind my chosen one to untie his hands. The moment they are freed, they fly up to my shoulders, squeezing and gripping firmly in his search for more leverage. Holding on, Olivier leans in ever so slightly, moaning when Edouard brushes his hands back to his waist and rocks him onto my cock, murmuring words of praise.

Edouard has the reputation for being a man whore. But who would have thought that my timid librarian would be into kink?

Squeezing the plump skin of his ass cheeks with my digits, I pull him closer to my face, cherishing the way his lashes flutter when my other hand caresses his slit. Wet and hot. Aching for me. “You’re sweet, Olivier. Graceful,” I muse. My tongue darts out, licking the curved path of his lips. He gasps and they part for me, a ragged breath whooshing past. “You’re dreamy, and intelligent. Creative. Hungry for knowledge.” My tongue sweeps inside his mouth, where I give his wet warmth a few solid swipes before I pull back. “I love how you walk alone, yet you don’t seem lonely. Are you?”

With a nod of my head, I allow Edouard to press a kiss onto Olivier’s exposed shoulder. He shudders at the touch. “Am I what?” He asks.

“Lonely?” My fingers curl around his shaft and I give him a few lazy pumps. He cants his hips, needing more friction. Friction that I won’t give him. Not yet.

Around us, red cloaks are dotted all over the forest ground, pleasing our brothers with their mouths, cocks or holes. Moans, husky and low, raspy and soft as lace from our female prostitutes, fill the air. These sex workers are experienced with the brotherhood and have signed a special NDA for both our soirées.

“Not really,” Olivier says.

I punish his lie with a halt of my strokes and he bristles, rocking forward, only to be pulled back by Edouard. “Menteur.”

“I’m not lying,” he flares, but something in his eyes flicker knowingly, matching our expressions.

“Why are you always alone anyway?” I press, needing him to say the words. Needing him to understand who brought him into this position.

Olivier doesn’t speak for a while, and we just stare at each other as we rock along to the rhythm of the piano and the gong, the sounds of pleasure around us, pupils blown, lips parted. My cock is hugged tightly by his sensational grip, hot and solid, clenching and unclenching as if he wishes me to come closer, only to try and chase me away. As if that’s going to happen.

“Students ignore me,” he finally admits. He gives me a lethargic shrug of his shoulder, like he doesn’t care. Yeah, he really is a bad liar.

Behind him, Edouard leans in and brushes his lips past his ears on his way to meet mine. “And why’s that?” He doesn’t touch me, just smirks, before pulling back to a safe distance. I am open-minded when it comes to sharing passion, but when it comes to my chosen one, Olivier and I will first need to talk things through. Besides, Edouard has his hands full with conquering the one he calls his chosen one.

The poor guy won’t even see it coming until it’s too late.

“I don’t know,” Olivier lets out. For a brief second the mask of indifference slips off his face, revealing a slither of hurt and true loneliness. He grinds his jaw and it’s gone. “I suppose you don’t have anything to do with it?”

“I most certainly do,” I confirm proudly, making Edouard snigger. Making Olivier’s eyes widen at my blunt confession.

“What?” He splutters. “I just made a joke.”

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