Page 52 of Hunter

“Maxim,” she repeats, giving his name a Spanish twist laced with an extra hint of flirtation. Maxim extends his hand for her to shake, but she grabs him and pulls him into an enthusiastichug instead. His body instantly stiffens under the unexpected contact, and I have to fight not to burst out laughing at how uncomfortable he looks.

For several minutes, I silently enjoy watching him squirm under her praise—her gushing over his muscles, his gorgeous face, and those perfect blue eyes of his. It’s a little bit mean, but it’s also hilarious.

Finally, I take pity on him and grab his arm, pulling him away from my aunt’s overzealous embrace. “Tía, deja que los demás lo disfruten también.” I offer a gentle nudge to redirect her attention, though my amusement still lingers.

“Tienes razón, mi sobrina. Vamos para adentro,” she agrees, but not before slapping and squeezing Maxim’s ass. I wait until she’s inside the house before I break into uncontrollable laughter.

“You, you, you…” Maxim is speechless, his mouth hanging open as he tries to process what just happened. I laugh harder at his stunned expression. “Stop fucking laughing.” A snort escapes me, unflattering and loud, and the betrayal on Maxim’s face only makes it worse. “I can’t believe she pinched my ass.”

I can’t breathe, my stomach aching from laughter. “Sophia, please tell me the rest of your family isn’t like her.”

But no words come out of my mouth. I try to stop, but it’s useless—my laughter only intensifies.

“Sophia,” Maxim finally snaps, his voice sharp. He steps closer, wraps his hand around my waist, and presses his body into mine. His eyes lock with mine, and a shiver runs down my spine at the mix of anger and desire in his gaze. “Enjoy yourself now, krasavitsa. Let’s see if you’ll laugh when you’re on your knees, gagging on my cock.”

The words hit me like a jolt. He lowers his head, biting down on my bottom lip before pulling, leaving me momentarilyspeechless. As he walks away, the weight of what he said lingers in the air.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Volkov!” I call out after him, shaking off the stupor he left me in. I take a moment to steady myself then slowly walk inside, mentally preparing to face my family.

Inside, Maxim is waiting for me with a mischievous smile, his eyes full of secrets. My heart skips a beat. What is he planning now? He doesn’t say anything as he grabs my hand, leading us toward the backyard.

TWENTY-TWO

SOPHIA

My mom’s house holds so many mixed memories. I try to lock them away, unwilling to let them ruin the day. Maxim’s here to meet my family, and as terrifying as it sounds, part of me is eager for them to meet. The house is modest, nothing fancy—walls painted a warm color, furniture that has been around since I was ten, the marks on the wall between Jennifer’s and my rooms, recording our growth over the years. My dad always said he’d rather spend his money on experiences, not objects.

The closer we get to the backyard, the faster my heart races, and my breath goes shallow. I can’t do this. Maxim tightens his grip on my hand, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a comforting rhythm. “One word, and we’re gone,” he murmurs, his voice low and reassuring. “You don’t need to subject yourself to any discomfort your family might bring you.”

I count to ten, nodding as I draw in a shaky breath. We continue walking. “Good girl,” he whispers, and the praise makes butterflies flutter in my stomach.

I wasn’t prepared for this—my family was waiting by the door, practically ambushing us. They don’t act casual. Instead, they swarm Maxim, kissing and hugging him as he’s passedfrom person to person. I catch Jessica’s voice, soft and teasing, sending a spark of joy through me. I turn to her, and we hug tightly, both of us smiling at the reunion.

“When did you get back?” I ask as we pull apart. She has been backpacking around the world for months, and last I heard, she was in Asia.

“A couple days ago.” She smiles, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

“You need to tell me everything,” I say, pulling out a chair for us to sit away from the chaos. Jessica’s adventures are something I’ve always supported, even when no one else did. I was the one who bought her first backpack and her ticket when she decided to follow her dreams rather than go to college.

We sit at the table, and she glances toward the crowd of family members fawning over Maxim. “You should really go help him out. He looks like he’s about to explode.”

She’s right. I look back at Maxim, his face flushed a deep red, eyes burning with the look of someone about to snap. A part of me relishes this moment—watching him be the center of attention. But another part of me feels for him. He’s completely out of his element.

“I’ll be right back,” I say, rising from my seat.

“Good luck,” Jessica responds, amusement evident in her voice.

As I approach the group, my name is called out, and my heart skips at the sound. Maxim turns to face me, his expression a dark scowl. The intensity of his gaze promises a silent punishment, a reminder of the consequences awaiting me, which makes my pulse quicken in both fear and anticipation. I should turn around and run, but I won’t. I know it would only make things worse.

Shaking off my unease, I square my shoulders and take a deep, steadying breath, forcing myself to walk towards him. Myface flushes, remembering the first time Maxim punished me. The sting from the previous night still lingers, a vivid reminder that sends a rush of heat to my lower abdomen. Every time I sit down, that same tingle shoots through me, making it hard to focus. I feel a hunger for him rising within me, the mix of desire and fear swirling in my chest. He’s unleashed something inside me—something that craves the rawness and the roughness he offers, the parts of me that only he can satisfy. He knows exactly what buttons to press to make me feel things I never imagined.

Maxim pulls me into him as I squeeze my way to his side. He notices my flushed cheeks and the unevenness in my breathing, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. His eyes glint with amusement before his face becomes neutral, masking his awareness of where my thoughts wandered. God, he’s infuriating. How does he know me so well? It’s almost scary.

I close my eyes for a moment, holding back an eye roll, before I feel the weight of my family’s stares on me. Maxim turns his attention back to Aunt Beatrice, who’s asking him about his work. I glance around, and most of the women in my family are eyeing him with the same territorial look. It’s strange, but also not. I realize none of them are used to seeing a man like Maxim—handsome, confident, and effortlessly charming. Even my eighty-three-year-old grandmother seems entranced by him, her eyes following him as he talks.

“Oye. Dejen al pobre muchacho respirar,” my mom scolds them, arms crossed over her chest. “Los están haciendo sentir incómodo.” There’s a murmur of protests, though I think it’s Aunt Isabel who retorts, “Ay cállense, mírenle la cara. Esos cachetes rojos no son por el sol. Vayan a hacer otra cosa.”

She ushers them away, and they scatter like startled hens, muttering under their breath, some calling my mom a party pooper.

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