Page 25 of Hunted for Halloween

A moan rips from my throat when he bites my nipple through the dress, digging his fingers into the flesh of my thigh.

“Fuck,” he sounds so helpless, grazing his nose against my stiff peaks and nuzzling into my neck to breathe me in. I writhe against his bulge, my eyes rolling back in their sockets. The friction elicits a moan from me and my toes curl.

“I don't just want to be the only man who spreads your legs. I want to be the only man who sees every fucking smile that crosses your face, who's ready to go on his fucking kneeswhenever you ask, who's ready to do anything to make you happy, who's willing to sacrifice anything for your happiness, whose entire world revolves around you. Baby, I want you. All of you. Every inch of you. I want your scars, your flaws, your mess. You. I want you.” Christian voice comes out in rasps, his hands skimming my thighs with impatience and desperation, like he wants to rip my dress off my body.

“Christian…” I croak, choking back a sob.

He lifts his face from my chest, licking his lips as his hungry eyes devour my upper body. When his eyes meet mine, they knock my breath right out of my lungs. The emotions in his eyes are raw, and provoking, reaching out to the deepest parts of my soul.

“I have never needed anyone the way I need you.” His voice is rough and heated against my skin. “I want you to be my girl, Aurora. This thing between us is no longer enough for me. I want more. More of you. More of us.” His veiny fingers hover on the side of my face in a faint, inciting caress.

“Yes,” I don't hesitate, smiling through my tears.

His eyes flare with hope, shining with relief before he claims my lips in a fierce kiss that makes me moan really loud against his mouth. The awkward clearing of a throat behind us makes us break apart, breathing raggedly. It's instinctive for me to jump off his lap but he holds me in place without breaking a sweat, his touch warning and possessive.

I sit still in his lap.

“Enjoy your meal,” the plates hit the surface of the table, turning my ears red. Christian doesn't look away from me for a second, even when the waiter is still standing there.

He takes that as his cue, turns around and leaves.

“I should head back to my seat so that we can have our meal.” I tell him, a shy smile breaking out on my face. I shift against his crotch, eliciting a groan from him.

“You either sit still or I fuck you.” He says with a deadpan gaze and my mouth falls open. “You can sit on my lap and still have your meal. I'll feed you.”

“What about you?” I frown.

“Watching you eat fills me up.” He adjusts my frame atop him, pulling one of the plates towards him.

I watch him slice a chunk off the lamb chops, gathering a little mash as he brings it to my lips. I part my lips and take the food in, chewing softly. My cheeks are on fire at this point because I feel like a little girl with the way he's feeding me.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, the not-so-innocent words hitting my skin like a wicked caress and sprouting goosebumps all over it.

There's nothing conventional about our date, because it's only Christian Carson who would rather have his girl on his lap and feed her than have a proper dinner sitting opposite each other. I feel self conscious, yes, but the intimacy of this moment makes it feel like we are doing something that's totally ours.

My eyes drink in the contours of his angular features that are as hard as they are breathtaking. His thick dark brows, dark lashes that makes me feel utterly jealous because of how thick and beautiful they are, his perfectly proportioned aristocratic nose, those sinful lips that has done dark, filthy things to my body, and his jawline that looks like it was made to cut through any surface.

Christian Carson is perfect. It hurts to look at him.

I don't notice that he has scooped up another forkful until his eyes clash with mine. My breath catches in my lungs, my lips parting on their own accord as he uses that to push the mix of meat, mash and roasted veggies into my mouth. A burst of flavors explode on my tongue, eliciting a moan that swiftly darkens his already heated gaze.

“I feel like I know so little about you.” I speak up in between chews.

“Ask me anything you want to know, Pumpkin.” His eyes soften.

“Why run a security firm?” I ask the elusive billionaire the question that’s been lingering in my mind.

Christian chuckles, the sound light and so full of life. “For starters, Strix used to be my late father's company. My interest in security, tech and software stemmed from him, but prior to his sickness, the old Strix, which used to be Arcane, by the way, suffered some backtracking in the market and threw it off the top of the ladder. The state of the firm largely deteriorated. It became my drive to save my father's business from sinking. I picked up the remains of Arcane in my penultimate year in college, and the rest, as they say, is history.”

He feeds me again, my eyes widening slightly in awe.

“Wow…it must have been tough for you to lose your dad. What about your mom?” I whisper, my voice strained, a little unsure because I don't know if I'm brushing a touchy subject.

“It was.” He answers curtly, his body stiffening beneath my touch. “I lost my mom a few years back. She died of cancer.” My heart breaks, tears welling up in my eyes. It tears me apart to know that he's completely alone. Beneath the rough, intimidating facade of the billionaire who has everything, Christian Carson is lonely.

“Oh, baby…” I cup his face, my voice shaky. “I'm so sorry.” I press a lingering kiss to his forehead.

The cutlery drops to the plate with a clatter, and he grabs onto my waist, pulling me into him. He sighs, his strong, protective embrace cocooning me.

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