Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Christian
I have her right where I want her—alone, pressed up against the wall, her sweet pussy melting on my tongue, literally. But she’s still holding back. Her body is rigid, her breathing stilted as she fights the pull I have on her body.
“Breathe,” I command. “Relax your muscles.”
She shakes her head—I can’t see it, but I can feel the movement. I’m so attuned to her, I swear to God, she could blink and I’d feel it deep down in my chest.
Goddamn. She’s so fucking stubborn.
Pulling my mask back down, I fumble for the switch, and harsh light instantly floods the cramped space. The naked bulb carves shadows across Eve’s face, catching something sinister in her eyes, a flash of darkness that vanishes so quickly, I could almost convince myself I’d imagined it.
But I didn’t.
I know that darkness. I recognize it.
It’s the same darkness I cradle in my own corrupt soul.
To my right, there’s a shelf with a box with a pair of silver candlesticks inside. They’re long and slender with curved sections that flare out before tapering again. I grab one and push the head of it against her drenched slit.
Dark brows pinched, she pushes against me. “W-what are you doing?”
With a smile that’s hidden behind my mask, I push the candlestick into her. She rises up onto her toes and gasps, but I don’t stop. I don’t relent. I’m desperate to see that hungry look in her eyes. Ever since that day in the psych building, it’s all I think about. Her face. This fucking face. Hungry. Desperate.
Pushing the candlestick in just a little deeper, my thumb grinds into her clit and she cries out. My free hand clamps over her mouth, but she sinks her teeth into my skin, and I yank it away. “Well, shit. The fox has fangs,” I laugh, pulling the candlestick out just far enough, before pushing it back in slowly.
“Fuck you,” she says on a whimper.
Footsteps sound against the floorboards just outside the door.
A voice whispers, “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Another hushed voice.
“ Shhh, ” the first guy says. “Wait…”
With the tip of the candlestick, I stroke that sweet spot inside her. Her hips move and roll as she grinds her clit against my thumb, hungry for that release that only I can give her. And she’s close, I can feel it. I can practically fucking taste it.
She moans, the sweet sound escaping her throat, igniting something inside me—a dark need to fuck this girl so hard, and so violently, she bleeds.
“Sounds like we may have been found,” I whisper, grabbing her thigh with my free hand, pulling her leg over my hip, opening her up wider. “You’ve got thirty seconds before they find us.”
She moans softly, and that small sound is like a hit straight to the vein, drenching me in a sudden feeling of bliss. I’m greedy for her, thirsty for a taste of those pouty lips. I pull my mask off, and her eyes widen in recognition.
“I thought you’d recused yourself,” she whispers.
“I changed my mind,” I reply. Then I kiss her— hard —our teeth nashing as my tongue pushes inside her mouth and I take what I need. Her head falls back against the wall, and I feel the resistance drain from her body, almost like knowing it’s me is enough for her to relax and give in.
“That’s it, baby,” I whisper against her lips. “Break for me. Give it to me.”
“There,” the voice from outside says. “Did you hear that ?”
“It’s coming from over there…”
Eve whimpers helplessly as my mouth finds her throat and I continue to work her pussy—the rhythm controlled, forceful. I’ve been watching her for weeks now and I already know her body better than she does, so I exploit that knowledge, applying more pressure to her clit, while using my free hand to pushing my index finger into her tight, puckered asshole.
With a quick intake of breath, she rises up onto the tips of her toes again, mouth open, eyes rolling back in her head. “Oh, my God,” she whispers. “Oh, fu?—”
Eve is mid-climax when the door is wrenched open to reveal two masked guys standing in the narrow doorway, light illuminating them from behind. I shift my body to shield Eve from them.
But the second the door is opened, she snaps out of her orgasm and jerks back. Frantically shoving at my chest, fingers splayed, trying to create distance between us. Her body is still trembling when I remove the candlestick and take a step back. But my body is still angled, so all they can really see is her face.
“Oh, fuck,” the first guy says.
“I guess I win,” I say with a smirk, more to her than to them.
She scowls at me.
“ Damn ,” the second guy says, pulling his mask off and turning away. “You guys can stop looking. She’s been found!” he calls out, clearly annoyed that he’d come so close only to discover he was still too late in the end.
He never really stood a chance.
My hand is drenched, and I use the handkerchief in my pocket to wipe it and the candlestick off quickly. A proper cleaning will have to wait. I place it back on the shelf and grab her arm, hauling her out of the closet, past the dining room, music room, and into the ballroom.
The lights cut back on. Everyone is already filtering in as we climb up onto the dias. Jackson and Ash are already in the room, and I lean over to whisper to Jackson. He takes Eve from me, holding her arm up. “ Whoop! The kill!” he calls out according to tradition. “Found in the north wing by Christian West!”
The room erupts into applause, feet stomping, and loud, animalistic howls drowning out everything else.
Stepping forward, I take Eve from Jackson, my hand curled around her wrist. When the cheers quiet down, I address the room. “The hunt isn’t over. More foxes will be arriving shortly.” A fresh wave of cheers ripples through the crowd. “In the meantime, head to the kitchen and fuel up. The food and drinks have arrived.”
As everyone disperses, Jackson claps me on the shoulder. “You know, you could have saved yourself the trouble and just claimed her. You’re a Sacred Son. No one would have questioned you.”
“What’s the fun in that?” I say.
Besides, the theatrics of the hunt serve a purpose—we’re letting the guys blow off some steam while also making it clear who Eve belongs to.
Jackson’s gaze shifts to Eve, then back to me. “I assume you’re going to head upstairs and enjoy your prize. You gonna grab some grub first?”
“Nah,” I say. “If you see Austin, tell him to bring some food up.”
Jackson nods once. “You got it.”
Eve is quiet as we head to my bedroom. She doesn’t fight me, doesn’t argue, doesn’t demand to know what’s going on. She’s silent— too silent—and it trips my spidey senses.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” I ask as I head into the bathroom to wash my hands. When I come back out, she’s still standing in the middle of the room. She hasn’t moved, and more importantly, she hasn’t answered my question.
I stand directly in front of her and cross my arms over my chest. “What’s up with you?”
The fact that she’s not launching a string of curses at me is the first red flag. I take her by the arms and shake her gently. Her gaze shifts to me, to my face. “I hate you,” she says quietly.
Smirking, I release her. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“You’re such a fucking asshole,” she bites out, pointing at me. “Since the moment I got here, all you’ve wanted to do is humiliate me.”
I have her wrist in my hand so quickly, she doesn’t even have time to blink. Her bone is so delicate. With just a little more pressure, I could snap it like a dry twig. It’d be best for everyone if she fucking remembered that.
“You have no fucking clue what I want,” I say, my tone low and threatening.
Her throat flicks. “You set up that whole circus downstairs. Why? What was the point?”
There’s no way she could know my real intentions—she’s just picking up on what Jackson said. I have to remember she’s always listening, always watching.
I step into the narrow space that separates us. “I want you to get this through that pretty little head—what I do, and why I do it is none of your fucking business. ” I lean in and say that last part slowly, each word weighted with a threat.
Her eyes narrow. “I could walk out of here.”
This chick, I swear to God.
“Why, Eve? Why would you leave? Because of the Fox Hunt?” She glances away, and I grab her face, forcing her to look at me. “Or is it because you’re terrified of the effect I have on you?”
Pressing her lips together, she shifts on her feet, her eyes darting away, like she’s embarrassed that her body reacted to me so eagerly downstairs.
“You’re giving yourself way too much credit,” she says stiffly. “You had a mask on. I thought you were someone else.”
That last comment shouldn’t bother me, but it does. I tighten my grip on her jaw. “I’ve already told you how much I hate liars, Eve. You didn’t think I notice that as soon as you saw my face, you came all over that candlestick like a whore?”
She shakes her head, or she tries to, but my grip limits her movement. “It wasn’t like that.”
There’s a lot about females, in general, that confuses me—their crazy emotions, for one. Why does everything have to be so damn dramatic? But something I’m never confused about is sex, and Eve is an easy read. She wants it messy and violent, but she’s too afraid to ask for it. God only knows why.
I pull her face close, so I can brush my lips across hers. She lets me, which is surprising. “Do you need more proof? Should I demonstrate just how hungry you are for me? Hmmm , my spicy Little Fox?”