Chapter twenty-four
Hunter
“No peeking,” I mutter, holding the blindfold securely to Bexley’s face as she takes slow baby steps in front of me. “And no… That’s not a challenge for you to prove you’re stubborn and defiant.”
“It’s a bit hard for me to peek even if I wanted to,” she points out with a quiet snort. “Where are we anyway? You’re being awfully secretive. It’s very suspicious and worrying.”
I smirk deviously. “You’re ridiculously impatient. You know that, right?” I drop my hands from her face, double checking the tightness of the blindfold knot at the back of her head before taking a hold of her waist. I help steady her, directing the two of us into the awaiting room.
Bexley laughs softly. “And you’re just figuring that out now?”
“No,” I answer playfully without missing a beat. “I’ve known that for some time. Just ensuring you know. Self-awareness is a powerful tool.”
“How generous of you. Guess that’s your one good deed for the day.”
“I guess I’m in a surplus then.”
Running my hands intentionally up her sides to make my way to her hands, I guide them to the seat of the plush leather recliner. She feels around blindly, mapping out the space with her fingertips before planting herself down and crossing her legs.
Even with her face covered, there’s an air of authority that resonates from her.
Bexley relaxes into the seat, resting her forearms on the sides. “A surplus, you say? Well, color me curious.”
I sense her curiosity heighten as I move away, my footsteps echoing. “Don’t move,” I order, slipping into my spot. “Or you’ll ruin all our hard work.”
“Our?” She repeats, muffling a laugh. “Shit—now I’m definitely concerned.”
Like always, my hands fondly glide along the keys in front of me, settling on their starting point. “Just do me a favor and shut up for once,” I say teasingly.
Without waiting for her response, I start playing, the piano loudly coming to life.
I’m not entirely sure if it’s just my imagination—maybe even the unfamiliar nerves—but the sound seems louder than usual. The reverberation dances around the timber room, making it almost seem like the tempo is controlling the shadows that are being cast from the candles.
Bexley has gone completely still, my eyes glued to her as I devour her raw reaction to the music.
It’s not the first time she’s heard me play—courtesy of the little stunt she pulled at my house. But it’s the first time I’ve played for her.
The blindfold was a nice touch. By removing her sight, every other sense will be intensifying more and more with each passing note. Now, she can truly focus on the melody and feel the song.
I know it must be killing her not to see what’s happening, and if anything, I’m actually a little enraptured that she let me do it.
It’s a small gesture, probably seemingly insignificant to most people.
But the fact Bexley allowed me to take away one of her key senses speaks actual volumes.
For people like us, we’re conditioned to always remain on alert, scanning our surroundings to make sure we’re two steps ahead of any impending threat.
Her allowance is a sign of trust…
Though, I’m certain she’d deny that if I asked. Probably tell me I’m insane for even considering the idea.
Yet… Here we are.
As my fingers move smoothly into the chorus, the tips of her pink lips turn upward. She can’t see the smile I return, but that’s the remarkable beauty of music—you can feel it.
When I hit the bridge, fingers rapidly jumping up an octave as the tempo fastens, she sucks in a tiny breath.
The final chorus begins and Bexley’s fingers follow along with the beat, tapping it out on the armrest with me. I finish strong, waiting for the echo to fade as I keep a close watch on her expression.
“That was beautiful,” Bexley murmurs, reaching for the blindfold.
I quickly stand from the stool, crossing the floor toward her. “I didn’t say you could remove the blindfold yet.”
She pauses, amused. “God, you’re bossy.”
“And you’re infuriating,” I quip back as I reach her, grabbing her wrists in my hands. Lowering them, I kneel in front of her, mesmerized by the pink lips that tilt slyly in response. I lean forward, kissing her without letting go.
Bexley tries to weave her arms around my neck but I hold her wrists firmly, planting them in her lap. There’s a small growl of protest but I cut it short, swallowing the noise as my tongue darts into her mouth.
Definitely infuriating. But also dangerously irresistible.
I wonder how far I can push her—crush those restraints until she decides to fight back. I bet it wouldn’t take much. It’s always a push and pull dynamic with us. Even though things have changed, there’s no doubt in my mind that we’ll never lose that.
They could remove the feud and years of pent-up resentment, and we’d still gravitate to each other like this. It’s beyond what we were conditioned to be… it’s who we are.
And apparently, regardless of her feelings toward me, the idea of taking control is a trigger. Bexley starts to tug her wrists out of my grab, and when I refuse to let go, she lets go of any restraint that was holding her back.
I snatch open air, searching my peripheral vision for her hands but before I can locate them, I’m shoved backwards with her foot. Our kiss breaks as I quickly catch myself on the palms of my hands, and Bexley slides off the chair into my lap.
The blindfold is still securely fastened around her head, but it seems she’s abandoned the idea of needing her eyesight for this. I begin to lean forward but I’m promptly stopped by her firm hands against my chest.
“You really think you could take me like this?” I challenge.
She smirks. “Do you really think I couldn’t?”
I’m shoved again but this time, I’m ready. I catch her waist in my hands, bringing her down on top of me. Pinning Bexley, I flip us, straddling her. She barely seems fazed, almost as if she allowed me to do it.
I wouldn’t be surprised though. I’ve seen her fight—I’m aware of what she’s capable of on every physical level.
I’ve spent years studying her techniques, watching her time in the cage. Part of me wants to accredit that with the fact I was able to have Tamara beat her. But in hindsight, now knowing what I know, I’m not so sure.
Tamara was good—a smart fighter. But even I had some unspoken doubts that night. It was just overshadowed by the pure elation I felt bringing the unbeatable Bexley down.
Did I really, though? I never could have known about her mother.
Normally, I’d have gone digging if I’d gotten even a whiff of vulnerability.
But there wasn’t a second leading up to that moment that raised alarm bells.
Whatever she was going through, she hid it well.
And now, I have a new found respect for my former enemy.
In the face of grief, she never backed down. Not for a single moment.
Not until she tapped out.
And truthfully, it’s my fault for not realizing then and there that something else was happening. Too caught up in the gluttonous feelings of victory, I missed the warning signs. That says more about me than Bexley.
“I think you’re holding back,” I tell her, running my hands along the curve of her body. “You want me to win.”
“Bullshit.”
I raise an eyebrow, not at all bewildered. I’m just curious to see where this goes because I’m confident that I’m correct.
People like Bexley don’t crave power. No—she’s not the same as me. Where I thrive on control and knowledge, and taking charge, she just weaponizes it to her advantage. This was thrown on her; and she’s too stubborn to back down.
A month ago I’d call it a flaw.
Too loyal. Too protective.
Too… selfless.
But all it’s done is expose my own faults.
Bexley adapts to her surroundings, constantly assessing and observing. I’m always in control, and if that is threatened or taken away, it would likely be my downfall.
She’s been forced into this position—both literally and metaphorically—so secretly she wants to lose…
because she safely can for once. There’s no lasting price to pay, no consequences.
Just a brief moment in the chaos where Bexley can let go, crashing and burning without fear.
She doesn’t have to be in control, even though it's a natural instinct for her now.
But she knows she has a choice… the opportunity to let someone else handle everything for her.
But dammit she’ll make me fucking work for it though.
I grab her wrists suddenly, slamming them to the ground by her head. My cock twitches when her chest hitches with a small breath, the air around us intensifying. It’s like the atmosphere is moving with us, influenced by the chemistry and sparks—as if we’re stronger than life itself.
“Fight me then,” I demand, fingers tightening on her skin. “Show me.”
Bexley bites her bottom lip, clearly torn. She wants to give in but every fiber in her body demands to follow through with my challenge.
And that wins out.
I’m thrown off balance as she bucks her hips upwards, successfully bouncing my weight off the floor. I shift my center of gravity, using my upper body strength against her lower power.
We’re at a stalemate for a few seconds, equally matched, and I admit I may start to get a little cocky.
There’s no way she’ll be able to overpower me from this position, even if her lower body strength is impressive.
But before I can even finish the thought, she twists her frame, sending me crashing toward the ground.
The angle leaves me no choice but to drop one of her wrists to catch myself. In the split second that I do, the air is forced out of my body as I’m barged in the side. Bexley tackles me, somehow finding my own wrists.
Well, shit. We’ve managed to switch positions entirely with Bexley poised on top of my hips, pinning my hands to the ground by my head.
And… I can’t say I hate it.
“You were saying?” She asks sweetly, grinding her hips into my obvious erection. “Come on, Hunter. I’m blindfolded. You can do better than that.”
I follow her tactic, jerking upright. Even with her strength, Bexley is no match as she flies upwards. But I don’t flip us, letting her fall back into my lap. “You’re a smart woman,” I tell her. “We both know I could easily overthrow you right now.”
“But you don’t want to?” She asks rhetorically, letting go of my right wrist and reaching down. Her hand presses into my dick, palming the rock hard length through my jeans.
I almost laugh when she falters slightly, clearly taken aback as recognition hits her. I can’t recall a time she’s ever seen me so casually dressed. I’m using the term loosely, of course… since she’s still blindfolded.
Even outside of the academy, I always made an effort to look the part except for the odd hoodie here and there. I’d rather be dead than caught in attire that could reflect lowly on my status. But who the fuck cares now?
Her fingers stroke the denim, hand snaking slowly across the material until she reaches the metal zipper. Without hesitating, she pulls it down, dipping her hand inside to grab me skin to skin.
I buck my hips again, groaning as her grip tightens around me. Bexley pumps her fist along my length, and I realize that she’s pulled my dick out entirely without me noticing.
Alright—fuck the stupid blindfold. Fuck this game. If I don’t move soon, I might do something embarrassing. Appearances and clothing might be insignificant to my moral and mortal existence now, but I’ll be damned if I come from a three second handjob. I’ll never live that down.
“I don’t think so,” Bexley murmurs, letting go and using her flattened palm on my lower abdomen to press me back to the floor. “We’re doing this my way now.”
“Bexley, I’m fucking serious. I—” The words are cut off as she slides backwards. I lift my head to glance down at her, ready to grab her hair and yank her back up. But suddenly, her warm breath is tickling my sensitive skin.
Every single ounce of frustration and control vanishes instantly as I stare wide-eyed in awe. Her hand wraps around the base, pumping firmly a few times before she lowers her head. Warm, wet lips slide down my shaft, pressure tightening as I’m pulled into her mouth and throat.
“Fuckkkkkk,” I groan deeply. On any other given occasion, I might be embarrassed, but right now, I don’t give a shit—just as long as she doesn’t stop.
“Mm-hmm” she moans, the vibrations pelting me into what feels like another damn dimension.
My hips jerk involuntarily as she takes me deeper, and for a brief second, I worry about hurting her. Especially when her nails dig into my hips.
Wait. Goddamn.
It dawns on me that my hand is still fisted by my head against the ground, but I’m no longer being held down by Bexley.
Clearly she would have had to let me go when she slid down my body, but I took no notice, still frozen in place by her ghostly touch like my own body has decided to betray my mind.
“Shit,” I hiss, flashes of celestial light appearing out of nowhere in my optics as she deep throats me. “Bexley—stop.”
“Mm-mm.”
I can only assume that’s a sound of refusal because she doesn’t pull back, and as my balls start to tingle, I’m horrified to realize that I’m about to lose this fight.
My hand flies toward her face, attempting to grab her jaw… or hair. Whatever, really. Anything to pull her back before I…
“Mm!” She swats my hand away and I go to glare at her, spotting the damn blindfold again.
And… Shit. That does me.
Control? Gone. Power? Non-existent.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I pant in quick succession, but it’s too late. A low roaring growl rips from me as I come hard down her throat, hands clasping her head firmly.
I don’t know how much time passes before I’m finally coherent and semi-functioning again, but when I search for her, I find myself looking into bright green eyes. The blindfold is on the floor next to us, and she smiles softly at me, before scanning the room to ascertain our location.
“We’re in Willowbrook?” She asks, amused.
“Yeah,” I say breathlessly. “Beats being at my house and I don’t know anywhere else with a piano that’s private. Perks of having a key.”
Bexley laughs. “I like your sneaky side, Hunter. Even if it is suspicious as fuck.”
“Well, right back at you,” I mumble, still trying to figure out if I’m alive or ascending the Earth somehow. “Rylan made us some food.”
She glances around until her eyes land on the picnic basket—that part courtesy of Tai and Sophia—before her face softens.
I can see the moment it all starts to hit her—the thought, the planning, the team coordination effort. About three different emotions cross her face consecutively, eyes shining with unshed tears.
Finally, she composes herself, still teary-eyed as she beams softly at me. “That sounds good. But I think I want some more dessert first.”
And suddenly I'm overpowered for a second time as Bexley climbs onto my hips and lowers herself until my hard-again cock is fully sheathed inside her.
Oh, well. I think I can live without control. Who needs it, anyway?