26. Hunter #3
“For the alpha hiding in the closet?” I tease, squeezing again, my fingers brushing over his hole in threat. Or is it a promise? “Want to call my bluff, baby?
“Fuckkkkk.” he groans as he finally gets into a sitting position, swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Why is it so hard to get some alone time?”
I lean on my forearms to watch him as he turns on my lamp.
“Because we live in a shared house?” I whisper, pressing my palm against my cock to calm my growing erection as he bends over to pick up his T-shirt.
“No shit, Captain Obvious.”
“Hey, you started it.” Reaching out I swat his naked ass, watching the muscle bounce as I do. Fuck, that alpha was mine.
He tugs on the T-shirt I bought him for his birthday, the one with the pink duck on. It shouldn’t look good on him, but it does.
Wrapping a hand around my cock, I give it a slow tug. Do we have time for a morning jerk together? Probably not, we’d set the alarm for as late as possible so we could cuddle in bed for longer which means Blake would be getting up for his morning workout soon.
Working a pair of black boxes up his thick thighs, Evans tries not to stumble. At least there’s no risk of him falling over any of the junk in my room since he cleaned it all away two nights ago. It made sneaking around a little easier.
He’d told everyone else he was ‘helping a bro out’, since apparently my room was actually a death trap escape room, where my scattered stuff was part of an elaborate plot to kill everyone who entered.
Even Blake had stopped by my room to watch, confused by the scene of Evans in full cleaning mode, rubber gloves and everything.
He’d raised a brow at me, made a small humming noise but said nothing and then walked away.
Swallowing back a moan, I admire how the underwear hugs his frame like a second skin.
“You’re killing me here,” I complain as I lay back down, covering my eyes with a quiet grumble. “I think those are my boxers.”
He shrugs, winking at me over his shoulder. “Does it matter?”
“No, I don’t care if you’re juicy ass stretches them out.” All the football training and running had given him an ass like a peach.
We learned pretty quickly that eating Evans' ass was the riskiest way to get him off. He was loud. Like, loud loud. My man loved having his cheeks spread and my tongue buried inside him. I’d managed to make him come hand-free like that, his knot inflating again.
I loved how sensitive he was—but this is why we needed our own space, so we could explore that more.
An idea flashes into my mind and immediately my brain supplies entirely inappropriate uses for my workbench. “Do you want to come to my art studio later? I can give you a tour and show you my final project.”
Fuck, reign in the horny thoughts Hunter, I chide, shaking my head. Everything was ramped up to a thousand right now.
He flashes me a wry grin, “You mean your super duper secret super private art studio? The one you use to stay out all night getting up to who knows what with who knows who?”
Clicking my tongue, I flip him off. He started calling my art room a ‘sex club’ when we got back from the cabin, a sly dig at the nights I’d spent hiding there, away from him.
There was also a thread of jealousy woven in, an insecurity about who I may have been with.
He had no clue that it was only me, my art room was a sacred space.
"You're annoying."
"And you’re obsessed with me."
"Those aren't mutually exclusive, Benny.” I huff a small laugh, careful to keep the noise level down.
Reaching across to my drawer, I grab a joint and spark it up, needing something to help me sleep since my obsession with my mate was making my dominant alpha urges worse.
“Which one of my parents told you about it?
“Your dad.” Shrugging, he grabs his phone and quickly scans the room for anything else. He’d only been wearing the T-shirt and boxers when he’d crept in last night.
I roll my eyes, unsurprised. My father was the worst at keeping secrets, if you needed a vault, mom was always the best option.
“So, do you want to come?” To the workroom, I mean but I’m always open to the alternative meaning too and he knows it as we share a grin.
“I can’t, my dad called again. He wants to meet.” Instantly the grin dies on his face and his whole body tenses. His shoulders lock. Just like that, Benny is gone and Benedict Crawford is back. Fuck Harrison and his shitty parenting. “Maybe you can give me a full tour after the charity gala?”
“Sounds good, you can sit for me while I paint you.” Nodding, I pat the covers inviting him to come back to bed. Fuck the consequences. “Do you want to talk about it? Your dad?”
He shakes his head, placing one knee on the mattress.
“Right now, I want to suck your dick…” He licks his lips while staring at the tent my dick has made under the sheets before groaning and standing back. “But that’s not going to happen because I think I just heard Blake in the bathroom.”
Fucking Blake.