Page 25 of Hunted

“Come, petit loup,” Alexandre gestures for me to follow. I do, taking off most of my clothes as we make our way to his en-suite bathroom, swallowing away the awkwardness. It’s a nice one, though that hardly surprises me at this stage. He has a private bath tub, a separate shower, toilet and double sink, all shiny white above black tiles and thick, silver-framed mirrors. “Let’s freshen up. You must be sore and tired. Once we’re clean, I’ll tend to your battle wounds.” He wiggles his brows suggestively. ”And then I’ll fuck you nice and slow in our bed, baptizing you into your new life with me.”

11

ALEXANDRE

Olivier’s skin feels divine under my touch—firm, yet soft, with enticing dips and valleys where his muscle development is more defined—and his creamy white flesh looks delicious, with red bruises that will turn purple in a few days.

The proof of his defiance.

But sitting here, straddled on his thighs, his stomach solidly planted on my bed as he exposes his battered, naked back to me, is the proof of my conquest. Because that’s exactly what this is. I discovered him, my hidden gem, I wanted him, and I took him.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

I can understand his confusion. His resistance. And fuck me, if that doesn’t make him edible, over and over again. He’s so much more than the timid librarian he is known for in college. The shy, blond-haired angel with the green eyes and the small, secretive smile. He is fierce, despite all that, defiant, the way he fought me during the Wicked Chase, and came back for more. He could have refused.

“But you didn’t,” I muse out loud, my voice a tired rasp. Olivier replies with a shuddering breath, not asking me what I mean. I wonder if he understands my statement deep down inside his mind. Tu revenais. You came back. For me.

Starved for touch, that he is. I can feel it in the way he searches for physical contact, pressing his thighs against mine whenever he can, or touching my hand when we walk next to each other, subconsciously. His mother was probably too busy for my little wolf, too busy to love him.

Heating the cream between my palms, I splay my hands on his back and rub more of it onto his flesh, soothing his irritated skin. Olivier shivers, and the softest of whines escapes from his puffy lips. No words come out. His eyes are closed, lids adorned with heavy lashes that curl down, blanketing his vision as it goes inward, to his dreams. His cheekbones are high, the skin flawless, and I don’t think that comes from frequent shaving.

Olivier Lambert radiates gentleness. There’s a softness that’s almost ethereal, the way he lies there, surrendering to my touch, allowing me to use him the way I see fit.

Oh, little wolf, I will show you all the corners of this bed, of this room, this castle, this fucking forest. I will never stop hunting you down, hurting you and forcing you on your knees, my cock buried deep inside your throat as you please me just the way I want.

Fuck… I like that thought. Gazing down at my thickening cock, I let out an impatient grunt.

“I bet you’re already dripping for me, aren’t you?” I whisper. Olivier’s sleeping, I’m certain, but when I slip an oiled finger between his crease experimentally, the ring muscles clench tighter and his hips jerk. My finger’s already inside his tight tunnel though, and I use my free hand to rub his perfectly round cheeks as I stroke his insides, rocking my hips forward as I do so. Fuck me, he is so sexy, the way his body pushes back onto my every movement, his physical need stronger than his closed off mind. Right now, nothing is off limits. Right now, he’s at my mercy.

As he will be for the rest of his life.

I press two more fingers to his hole, and Olivier clenches his muscles once more, stretching his limbs as if he’s getting ready to rouse.

“Shh, beautiful, relax for me.” My hand keeps on rubbing his cheeks, patting them softly in an attempt to make his muscles go slack. They do, allowing me in during an unguarded moment, and I groan my satisfaction, then start scissoring him open, taking my time to loosen up that slick hole for more, unbridled pleasure.

“W-what…” His voice sounds scraped.

With my hips still rocking against his ass and my fingers buried deep inside, I lower my body, planting kisses on his bruised back, tracing my tongue and teeth up to the tender skin of his nape. Olivier awakens at that, but only barely.

“W-what…” He repeats, and my fingers press deeper, finding his pleasure button and lighting up a fire. Olivier’s hips jerk and he pushes back against me, lips parting and eyes widening.

“They say that you can’t tame a wolf,” I growl against his ear. “But I’d like to give it my best shot anyhow.”

Olivier lets out a sound I can only describe as a howl, and my cock pulses with need. With my fingers still pressing inside his ass, I pull him up onto his hands and knees, looming over him like the caveman my ex-lovers always claimed I was.

I guess they were right.

But not for them, not anymore. Not for anyone else anymore, unless Olivier wants to play. This tight, creamy ass, is mine and mine only. Olivier is mine but I am also his now.

With the room only dimly lit, my little wolf looks up from over his shoulder, squinting at me with bleary, green eyes, and I pull back in time to see his teeth flashing in the night. His smile is beautiful, the air void of his usual hesitation, and I find myself being jealous of the dark for keeping some of it to itself. I want it all to myself, and leaning in slowly, I hold his stare, knowing mine is glinting with want. His lashes sweep down, but his chin is tilted up in sweet offer.

“I know you’re tired,” I hear myself rasp, slowly pulling my fingers out of his dripping hole, and lining up purposefully before sliding in. Olivier tenses at first, but then he relaxes, and even goes as far as leaning back against my coaxing hands that cup his ass. “There’s a good wolf,” I hum, my voice thick with arousal, eyes piercing when I catch him biting his bottom lip, clearly liking the way I talk to him.

I like it too. I like it so much that I know I won’t last very long. I, too, am tired. But when my hand reaches below and fondles his aching balls, up to his leaking dick, I know this moment is absolutely worth it. Tonight, we were stripped bare. Tonight, we bared ourselves to each other. And after tonight, we will build. Layer by layer, we will build our own fortress. One that is stronger and able to withstand any obstacles.

Pulling nearly all out, I slam back in, grabbing hold of his weeping shaft. Olivier lets out a strangled grunt and squeezes his eyes, pushing back in uncontrolled, sluggish movement.

Fitting our mouths together, I settle over him completely, wanting to touch every centimer I can.

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