Hunter #2
Handing my half-empty champagne flute to a passerby, not even checking whether he's a waiter, I follow after him. Halfway across the ballroom, the hairs on the back of my neck prickle and I glance over my shoulder.
Sadie.
Her eyes lock onto mine from across the room, her smile faltering as she scans the crowd for Evans. Suspicion flickers across her face as her eyes narrow.
I don't even pretend to be subtle.
Grinning, I raise my hand just enough to flash her a quick middle finger before disappearing into the sea of tuxedos and glittering gowns.
Petty?
Absolutely.
Following my mate, I dodge the elite as I weave through the main reception and down a corridor where I watch as he lets himself into a side room with a key card.
As soon as I enter the room, he grabs my shirt and pulls me into a kiss. Evans’ kisses are possessive and dominating, his alpha nature prominent in his physical touch. Sneaking my hands under his suit jacket, I fist the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer to me.
For a heartbeat neither of us speaks. The silence is loud after the orchestra and endless chatter outside.
“I've missed you,” he murmurs, the sharp scent of lime and bergamot filling my nose as his pheromones leak into the room.
“You saw me in there, standing behind you. And this morning.”
“Feels like longer.” His voice is whiny, cracking as he grumbles and I’ve decided that needy, whiny Benny is one of my favourite versions of him.
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “That’s because you’re busy being heir to Pembroke Holdings. All those energy vampires are sucking you dry.”
"They all want something." His forehead rests against mine as he slowly exhales, body relaxing. Burying his nose against my neck, he inhales deeply before huffing out a quiet laugh. “You smell like paint.”
“You say that like it's a bad thing.”
“No.” His hands tighten slightly against my jacket. "It’s perfect. Like home.”
“Have these things always been so fucking dull?” I ask him, and he nods with a wry smile.
Evans kisses me again, desperate, hungry as he sucks on my tongue and bites down on my bottom lip.
“I want you to fuck me,” he pleads against my lips, as he holds tightly to the lapels of my jacket. “I need your cum buried in my ass while I go out there and deal with all these morons.”
My hands wander, trailing down his body to grab his ass. I squeeze hard, drawing out a protracted moan from him as I tease him.
“We haven’t got time, baby, otherwise I’d bend you over this desk right now.” I say as I kiss the tip of his nose. And then his lips. And his brow. And his cheek. I’m covering him in my scent, since everything has become muddied by the crowds of vapid wealthy people.
“I want you to fuck me,” he pleads against my lips, as he holds tightly to the lapels of my jacket. “I need your cum buried in my ass while I go out there and deal with all these morons.”
My hands wander, trailing down his body to grab his ass. I squeeze hard, drawing out a protracted moan as I tease him.
“We haven’t got time, baby, otherwise I’d bend you over this desk right now.” I say as I kiss the tip of his nose.
And then his lips. And his brow. And his cheek. I’m covering him in my scent, since everything has become muddied by the crowds of vapid wealthy people.
Cupping his face I deepened our kiss, tasting the whiskey on his tongue. His hands move between us, rubbing my dick through the fabric.
“I need you,” his words are breathy as his fingers work on the button of my trousers.
“Mine, baby. All mine.” The urge to bite him, to suck a mark on his skin is like a compulsion. Yanking his tie off, I tuck it into his pocket, kissing him as I open the top of his shirt.
Leaning into the curve of his neck, I inhale, licking a stripe up the column of his neck before I sink my teeth in and suck. I wanted him to go back out there, covered in my scent and my marks.
He reaches into my bowers, wrapping a hand around my cock and giving me a firm stroke.
“Unghhhhh,” I grunt, rolling my hips upwards into the motion.
“Need your come, on me, in me…” he murmurs as he presses his face against my shoulder, grinding his own cock against my thigh.
Something beeps and Evans' eyes fly to mine. "I didn't lock—"
The door swings open and Harrison Crawford stops dead on the threshold. His eyes flick from Benedict to me, taking in our proximity and dischevelled clothes. The silence stretches on, like a cheese pull on a pizza.
Stepping calmly into the office, he closes the door behind him before rounding on us as we try to right ourselves. “What the hell is going on here?!”
Harrison glares between us again, before focusing on his son's face. His jaw clenches so tightly I hear his teeth grind.
“It’s not what you think—” Evans stops himself with a grimace, “No, wait.” He looks at me, and then back at his father, whose face is turning red as he stands there with his hands balled into fists.
“It’s exactly what you think.”
The words seem to suck every ounce of air from the room.
“Well…” I clear my throat, rubbing the back of my neck before flashing him a humourless smile. “This wasn’t how I imagined this going down. But I’m Hunter Ashbourne and I’m going to marry your son.”
I meet his stare as the office falls silent again. Evans shifts closer to me, his gaze ping-ponging between us as we stand-off facing one another.