26. Hunter #2
Evans' expression morphs, offended as Zale implies he’s lying. “No, no, no—Hunter has had actual cooking lessons. He can make pasta from scratch and roast a chicken with all that Ina Garten handful of garlic, a sprinkle of love and lemon in its ass shit.”
My brows knit together as my mouth twitches, fighting off a laugh. “What do you know about Ina Garten?”
He pulls his legs underneath him, our bags now forgotten in the doorway as we settle into our usual dynamics.
“My nanny used to be a big fan.” Evans puffs his chest out defensively. “Plus, I watched the Foodie Network with your mom while you were giving Percy a tour.”
“A tour of his dick! Ooft—what’s that for?” Zale winces as Shiloh swats the back of his head. “And was that a mom joke?”
“No, I actually watched it with his mom.” Evans looks smug for a moment and I hide a chuckle, covering it with a cough as he sits there looking so fucking hot. Cute too.
Neither Zale or Shiloh seem to know what to say to that. “Guess you guys got even closer during the break, huh? Anyway…your dad called while you were gone.”
Instantly Evans stiffens, like he’s on high-alert and the sparkle in his eye dulls. How had I never noticed how obvious it was when he was putting his walls up?
“My dad? Called you?” His words are flat now, like all the emotion has just been sucked out. “My dad called you?”
“It’s a good thing you’re pretty,” I say with an eyeroll, breaking the tension and Shiloh snorts, sharing a mischievous smile with me.
He wants to preen at my compliment, and rage at my insult.
“Mmmm, he seemed to think you were going to be in Crest Haven with Sadie for spring break but when you didn’t show and you didn’t answer your phone I guess he was worried.”
“I never told him that.” Evans frowns and I can see the cogs turning on his face as the puzzle pieces slot into place. Sometimes it was hard to tell that you were being manipulated while you were still in the situation and Sadie had been pulling strings for months.
She must be meeting with Evans' father or calling him regularly behind his back, whispering in his ear to push this marriage thing. I don’t think Evans ever really thought about how she was playing puppeteer the entire time they were fucking. But he was now.
“There’s something strange about you two…” Zale hums as his gaze pingpongs between us. “Do you smell different? What is that?”
“Us? No?” I almost believe Evans when he answers, or at least I would if he didn’t stare at the carpet.
“Are you feeling lightheaded? Is your heart rate normal?” Pulling out my phone I pretend to search his symptoms on the internet. “Do you need to call a doctor?”
Evans nods, face serious. “They say the sense of smell going could be a sign of a stroke.”
“Fuck you both.”
“Benny. Pssssstt, Benny.” I whisper, shaking his shoulder gently. My room is almost in complete darkness, the only light coming from his phone as it lights up, vibrating on my bedside table. “Your alarm went off. It’s time to get up.”
Laying on his stomach, he grumbles pushing me away before snuggling into my side, his hands coming around my waist as he drags me closer. Sighing, I sink into his touch, my fingers roaming up his spine.
I’m perfectly content to let him stay here, wrapped in the scent of us but it was his idea to set an alarm and sneak back to his own room so we’re not discovered by our housemates.
It’s been three days of creeping around already and our housemates seem none the wiser, but every second apart from him is driving me crazy. I want to sleep in the same bed all night, and not have to get up at stupid o’clock to crawl back into our own rooms.
I want to be able to wrap an arm around his waist, pull him close, openly inhaling the fresh scent of lime and bergamot as I kiss his cheek.
Or his neck. Or his fucking lips. I want to leave my marks in places where they’re visible.
I wanted to make him coffee in the morning without worrying someone would ask why he'd slept in my room.
I just want to kiss my mate. Love on him. Make him smell like me all of the time. Want him to keep wearing my vests. Using my showergel. I want to cuddle on our sofa.
Doing filthy things to him while I cover his mouth, or keep him quiet with my fingers or cock is hot…but that novelty only lasts so long. I wanted something domestic. Normal.
I’m doing this because it’s what he asked for, but it fucking blows.
The only benefit is that it makes him happy.
Oh, I suppose it also gives him time for his body to heal fully since there’s no way we’re having sex in a house with two other alphas just down the corridor.
Jerking off together, frotting and trading blow jobs was risky enough since Evans, it turns out, is pretty loud in the bedroom, even when I’m not in rut.
But it’s not enough.
I want to fill him with cum until he’s dripping me for the rest of the day. Want to paint it on his skin. Want to paint him, while he’s painted in me. My thoughts devolve into filthy fetishes and I think about all the things I want to do to him and with him.
It’s almost like I’m an anxious dog these days, but instead of waiting for my masters to come home, I’m waiting for them to leave. My ears prick up every time Zale mentions Shiloh, in the hopes that their new house is magically ready, the one they only put an offer on last week.
Or I listen out to see if some new omega has caught Blake‘s eye, just in case he might want to stay out overnight. I know I’m being ridiculous. I’m clearly delusional right now. It’s been four days. Four long days.
I try again to wake him, but this time I grab a handful of his ass and squeeze. “If you don’t get out of my bed and crawl back to your own in the next five minutes, I am going to fuck you. Loudly.”
We haven’t really talked about him fucking me yet, but I have no qualms about it. Sex is sex. And he makes me feel good just by smiling at me, so I know whichever way fucking goes, it will be fun. And messy.
Grabbing the pillow, he buries his face with a low guttural whine. Turning to peek up at me, he blinks slowly. I want to devour him when he's like this, skin flushed from sleep, eyes half-lidded, soft smile plastered on his handsome face.
“That’s not the threat you think it is,” he murmurs, careful to keep his voice down. His lips are still swollen from sucking me off last night, his obsession with oral was something I planned to explore fully when we had our own space.