Chapter 19
Elowen
Salvario—aka Hunter—is insufferable.
I never thought there’d come a day when I’d say that, but here we are.
This man gets jealous of everything, from lifeless objects to any celebrity I call handsome.
Just two days ago, I said Daniel Frens was handsome while we were watching his latest action thriller, and Hunter’s first reaction was to glare at him with enough fury for the man to feel it from miles away.
I bet that actor had a nightmare that night.
Then he turned off the movie and asked me a hundred times who’s handsome while giving me orgasms until I blacked out.
I’m learning many new things about him, the possessiveness being one. Another is that people avoid looking into his eyes, whether it’s my bodyguards or random people in the neighborhood.
Logan has an explanation for it: according to him, Hunter is the reincarnation of the Grim Reaper, and whenever people look into his eyes, they see their own demise. That’s a joke, but there’s some truth to it, like him being the infamous Butcher of Naples.
There’s an old saying: those who kill too many have their souls turn black. And since eyes are the window to the soul, people see his black soul, which I suppose is frightening. I’ve never had a problem with it, though.
But him being scary has its disadvantages, like people not wanting to come close to him. And since he keeps me glued to his side, they don’t come close to me either.
Before him, when I attended parties, I used to make small talk with everyone. Now the rest of the world just leaves us alone in our own bubble. Logan has taken over my place. He’s a people person, warm and easy to talk to. Right now, a group of five young women are gathered around him.
We’re at the neighborhood’s New Year’s party, held in the biggest park in our area.
It’s beautifully decorated, with lights strung between the trees in gold and white, casting a warm glow over the open space.
A small stage at the far end has a live band playing soft, festive music.
The whole park smells of pine and roasted chestnuts.
Everyone is enjoying themselves in their groups. Many new families are being introduced around, and I’m watching them from a peaceful spot, since no one bothered me and the man who has his hand wrapped around my waist, my body pressed to him—after we exchanged a few pleasantries.
“I think if you smiled more, people would find you more approachable,” I tease, lifting the corner of his mouth with my finger.
He attempts a fake smile under my prodding, which only makes him look more frightening. He can’t do this like my cousins and brother, they’re experts at fake smiles.
I chuckle. “You’re impossible.”
“Does it bother you that people don’t like me?”
I wrap my arms around his neck. “Nope. I just find it boring being at a party where no one wants to come near us.”
He looks around. “Then let’s go home. We can do much better things there.”
I roll my eyes playfully. “Your better things involve only one thing.”
He leans down, brushing his nose against my jaw. “Not only one. Eating your sweet pussy is one, fucking it with my fingers is two, making you beg for my cock is three—”
I shove against his chest, actually, I sway against it, since my legs have suddenly gone too weak to hold me. “Shut up, Hunter.”
A satisfied smile lights up his face at the sight of my blush.
“Come on, guys. It’s not even been an hour since you both got here.
Behave for a while, then you can go get your room,” Logan groans, making me stand straighter and push away from the man who never speaks more than a few words but somehow can’t shut up when he’s messing with me.
He doesn’t let me move away, he wraps his hand possessively around my waist. Territorial caveman.
“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Hunter mutters coldly.
Logan laughs. “Just now you were behaving like a total sweetheart. I thought for a second someone had taken my brother’s place. Now it’s fine.”
I chuckle.
Logan comes to my side and wraps an arm around my shoulder, which Hunter shoves away instantly.
He lowers his arm, sighing like a disappointed father. “I remember changing this kid’s diapers. Now look at him.”
I laugh. That’s quite a statement to make when Logan doesn’t even remember his real name, which makes it all too funny.
I asked Hunter who changed their faces and why.
I have a suspicion it could be the man they work for, his name is Chris, whom they both don’t like, especially Hunter.
This guy is their anchor to the underworld, and since the first day they regained consciousness after the accident, he’s been controlling their lives.
I shared my theory with Hunter. He also believes his boss could be behind all this.
“Whatever.” Logan sighs again. “I was just thanking you, Wen. You know, it used to be a pain in my ass to babysit him at parties. Now you’re doing it perfectly.”
I look up at Hunter, then back at Logan with a grin. “How did he used to behave?”
“He used to bug me to leave the party because people make him feel suffocated, since he was born in the jungle and raised by a mama chimp.” I laugh, holding my stomach. I glance at Hunter, who’s glaring at poor Logan, but Logan is effectively ignoring him.
“But because we can’t leave ten minutes after arriving at a party, he used to start drinking. By the end of an hour, he’d be tipsy as hell, and oh boy, drunk Hunter is a sight.” Logan laughs, his head falling back. “He’s such a Romeo.” He takes out his phone. “Let me show you.”
He pulls up a video and turns the screen to me. In the video, Hunter is sitting on a piano bench, caressing the grand black piano like it’[s his lover, murmuring something unintelligible. The video moves closer to him. Logan’s voice comes from behind the camera: “What are you saying?”
Hunter’s unfocused eyes drift toward Logan. “I’m telling her how much I miss her.”
“Who?”
“My princess,” he slurs, turning his attention back to the piano, then starting to play. As the music begins, my grin widens. It’s the song I played the first time I found the piano in his mansion.
“Enough." Hunter snatches the phone from Logan’s hand, nearly crushing it in his grip.
I try to take it from him. “Let me watch. Pleaseeee.” But he doesn’t give it to me. In fact, he raises it as if to throw it, but Logan catches his hand. “Okay, fine, I won’t show her, please spare my phone.”
Logan rescues his phone. I turn to him. “Send me that video.”
He winks.
“I dare you,” Hunter grunts.
Logan groans. “I hate this bastard.”
I turn to Hunter, pouting. “It’s cute. I want to hear you play.”
“It’s not cute.” He glares at Logan again. “I’ll see what to do with you for recording that.”
Logan grins. “You can give me your firstborn as thanks.”
I laugh. I’m damn sure I never met Logan before, because there’s no way I’d have met such a funny man and forgotten him.
Logan made the party bearable—entertaining, even—and I didn’t even notice when two hours passed. By the time we’re home, I’m completely exhausted. But Hunter is made of a different material than me; he isn’t even one percent tired.
Once I’m done kissing Bruno and Rosie, he picks me up and carries me to the living room, where his piano now sits in a corner. My interior designer left that spot for a piano because she knows I love to play, but since I was keeping away from it, that corner stayed empty.
He moved into my house—now our house—on Christmas morning, the day we declared to the world that we’re together. My family is very happy about it. I didn’t tell them he’s Salvario, because I doubt they’d believe it, it sounds completely bizarre to outsiders, too dramatic to be true.
He settles onto the bench with me in his lap.
“Don’t you want silence after listening to music for so long at the party?” I ask, making myself comfortable in his lap.
He unzips the blush pink, long-sleeved woolen dress I’m wearing from the back, the zipper running from my neck all the way down to my tailbone.
“I always prefer your music over silence.” He presses the words against my neck, sliding the dress off my shoulders.
“Why are you undressing me?” I breathe. My body doesn’t need more than his touch to ignite with uncontrollable lust.
“To enjoy the music better. Now play.”
He pushes the dress down, then my thong, leaving me in nothing but my heels. I don’t know what kind of music I can play with his hands all over me and anticipation clouding my head. All I can do is feel him and imagine what comes next. Still, I start playing.
Within a minute, I realize I’m playing an erotic composition I never imagined I could play. What else can I play when his hot breath is all over my neck and his hands are caressing my bare breasts?
“You’re distracting me.” I try to sound annoyed, but all that comes out is a moaning plea.
He hums, kissing down my neck and pinching my nipples. My fingers falter on the keys.
“Hunter,” I moan.
“Keep playing, baby.” His hoarse baritone command vibrates through my center, traveling as a shiver from my ear down my spine.
I do as he says while he releases one of my nipples and moves his hand down to my already dripping core. Without warning, he shoves two fingers inside me.
My hands pause on the piano. He pulls his fingers out and rubs my clit roughly with his slick fingers. I cry out in a sudden rush of pleasure so intense my head falls back onto his shoulder.
He bites my throat. “Didn’t I ask you to keep playing?” He shoves his fingers back inside in another punishing thrust, almost making me come.
“I—I—can’t.”
“You can. Do it.” He orders. “You’re playing so beautifully.”
I press the keys at random. I don’t know what kind of music is coming out now, and I don’t give a shit. All I care about is him making me lose my mind.
He pulls his fingers out, pushes my ass up, and unzips himself. The next moment, he’s pushing me down onto his dick. He slides inside me, drawing out another loud moan.
The music spirals further out of control as he fucks me like that, moving my ass up and down on his huge, thick dick. Within a few minutes, I’m about to come. And hard. Really hard.
My hands come to a halt again, my back arching against him, my head falling back onto his shoulder. He sucks on my neck, and just as I’m reaching the peak, he slaps my clit. The release halts, but something even stronger builds in its place.
“Who gave you permission—” another hard slap “—to stop?” Another one, and I squirt, crying and thrashing against him, my mind blanking in an orgasm so powerful it knocks my soul from my body.
He doesn’t even stop there, he rubs my clit roughly, thrusting inside me with maddening strokes, making me squirt again and again.