Hunted for Halloween

Chapter 5

Chapter Five

AURORA

T he next day I’m on my way to see him. I can’t help it. After the incredible night, I need more. Or do I? I clutch the sealed box to my chest once I shut the door to my car. My throat works swiftly up and down as I stare at the huge skyscraper building before me.

I'm just going to drop it off and leave.

Yes, that's it. I shouldn't have any problem doing that, right? He might not even be on the seat.

Pictures do not do this place justice. The Strix security building looks so intimidating from where I'm standing, but the thought of facing Christian after two weeks since that day at the boutique, is far more scary and intimidating.

I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for my Dad who practically sweet-talked me into bringing this package over here. He should have been the one to drop it off but he's away at work conference and according to him, it'd be rude to have a delivery man drop off a bunch of classical books he bought for his best friend.

I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about the fact that he weirdly stopped showing up wherever I was ever since that day. A part of me is relieved that we have put that moment behind us, but the other is excessively cranky and irritated because I haven't seen him for weeks.

Not since he fucked me with his fingers in that dressing room and made me watch.

Well, you did lie that you didn't want the man. What would you have him do? Make him stalk you till eternity? The bratty voice in my head snorts at me.

I push it to the back of my head, taking in a deep breath. It's not a big deal. I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself. If Christian thinks I'm going to let him get away with intimidating me, then he must really not know me.

I put on my best bitch face, straightening my spine as I sashay elegantly into the building, making my way to the top floor where his office is situated.

The lobby on the top floor is buzzing with busy workers, who are trooping in and out of their cubicles, getting their work done. A few workers spare me strange glances but I pay no heed to them, stopping by the desk of who I presume to be his secretary.

“Good evening,” I beam at her.

She grimaces when her blue eyes land on me. Her pale skin is accentuated by her red lipstick that is a shade darker than the one I'm wearing. Her gaze deepens with distaste as she takes me in from head to toes, then her lips slowly curl in a sneer.

“What do you want?” she queries me rudely.

I instinctively arch a brow at her bitchy attitude. “I'm here to see Christian—Mr. Carson, I mean.” I clear my throat to cover up my awkwardness after I correct myself.

Her glare merely deepens. “Do you have an appointment scheduled?”

“No, but I?—”

“No buts,” she cuts me off, turning to her computer. “I'm tired of you sluts walking in here and demanding to see the boss.”

I don't know what grates on my nerves more. Her rudeness, or the fact that she's outright making it clear that I'm not the first woman who has come up here to see him. It makes my skin crawl and fills me with an insurmountable amount of hatred.

“Watch your tone,” I speak up defensively. “I’m not one of his cheap sluts, so you either pick up the phone and tell him Aurora Marshall is here or I swear to God, if I have to call him myself, the only place you'll ever find a job is in a fucking diner.” I grit out the words, glaring daggers at her.

She scoffs, looking amused. “What did you just say to me?”

“What the hell is going on here?”

My spine stiffens the moment I hear the husky, untamed voice. I don't look over my shoulder to confirm if it's him. I know it's him. I clutch the box tighter to my chest, triumph flaring in my chest as she scrambles to her feet quickly.

“This lady walked in here and wanted to see you but I told her that she can't see you without an?—”

“I don't care if it's the middle of the night, Stacey. If she walks in here, wanting to see me, under no circumstances are you or anyone else allowed to stop her. Do you understand?” His voice fills the air like a brewing storm, calm but edgy.

“Yes, sir.” She looks towards me, schooling her expression into submission.

“Come with me, Aurora.” He says in a husky order that makes me turn around immediately. Our eyes briefly stay in contact before he spins on his heel, striding into his office and I trail after him with a pounding heart.

The moment the door clicks shut, my lungs thin out. My breath evades me even further when he leans on the edge of his desk, folding his veiny arms across his chest. His hair is a thick mess atop his head and his rolled up sleeves give him a lazy, yet sexy appearance. I don't understand how a man who looks as old as he is doesn't look his age. If anything, he looks like a man in his mid-thirties.

Even with the distance between us, it feels like he's crowding my space. His heated gaze gives his whiskey eyes a darkened edge as they drag up my frame like they have all the time in the world.

“Are you just going to stand there and keep staring, Pumpkin?” he cocks his head to the side, his voice husky and controlled.

That damn nickname.

I'm tempted to rub my thighs together for friction, but my determination to appear unaffected outweighs my desire.

“My Dad asked me to drop this off for you.” My voice comes out squeaky, making my cheeks heat.

“Put it on the couch,” he says without looking away from me.

I look towards the couch that's a few feet away from the huge mahogany desk he's leaning on. I suck in a deep breath, a sense of wariness settling in my tummy like pangs of hunger. My fingers grow clammy on the box but I will my legs forward, tossing the box on the couch.

I spin around, paranoid, only to see him walking stealthily towards me like a huge black cat monitoring its dinner. My heartbeat quickens, the room suddenly feeling smaller.

“If you are going to run a business, maybe you should consider not fucking the women who work for you.” I spit out the words venomously, my eyes nearly bulging out of their pockets when it dawns on me what I just said.

His eyes darken fleetingly, his muscular frame growing tense.

“I don't mix business with pleasure. That's a very strong accusation to slap on someone, Pumpkin.” His voice is dangerously low, thick with an underlying edge.

I evade him sharply, moving backwards rapidly to the other side of his spacious office.

“It didn't look like that from where I was standing!” I snap at him.

I don't understand why I'm so worked up. It's none of my business if he fucks his secretary. That shouldn't be a problem. He's not my boyfriend—not my anything. I fail woefully at convincing myself because my blood only boils harder.

“Are you jealous?” his lips curl in amusement and he stops short, folding his arms around his chest.

His muscles flex with the movement, causing my abdomen to tighten.

Fucking hormones and acting thirsty when they see him!

“What? No!” my cheeks burn hot.

He scoffs, the sound dark and humorless. “You are a fucking hypocrite, Aurora. You say you don't want me, yet you have come on my mouth and fingers like my own personal fucking whore. I'm supposed to be your father's best friend, but here you are in that fuck me dress and heels, wearing that fucking red lipstick and getting jealous of my secretary.”

My chest burns with fury, and I struggle to push back the tears building up at the back of my eyes. His words cut deep—maybe it's not them because deep down, it feels like a part of me knows that he's saying the truth, and I hate him for it.

“Fuck you,” I seethe. “I'm leaving.”

My announcement seems to set him off because his eyes blaze with fury and in two sharp strides, Christian eats up the distance between us. The fear and excitement that courses through my veins throws me backwards with a force that makes my back hit the glass wall behind me.

“What did you just say?” he pins me between him and the glass surface behind him, his large hands resting on the space beside me.

My palm flattens against the glass, my breath coming out in harsh, unstable puffs as I look up at him. The shining ember and flames in his eyes are completely swallowed by his dark, dilated pupils. They bore into me with a mix of lust, hunger and fury that tightens my nipples and makes my toes curl against my strappy black heels.

The heat of his body combined with his overly masculine and evocative scent sears through the fabric of my floral ruffle dress. It makes me want to thrust my chest forward so that I can feel more of it, more of him.

“You heard me. I'm leaving.” My breathless voice overshadows the effect of my words. “This thing between us, it's…it's madness, and…and I want—” the rest of my words crush to dust on the tip of my tongue when his hot mouth comes down on mine.

I melt against the glass.

Christian's lips tangle with mine in something that I can't even call a kiss.

He's devouring me, feasting on me, and breaking me into pieces. He pushes his body into mine, grabbing the side of my face roughly.

I refuse to open up to him and allow him to steal what's left of my free will, but he bites my lip hard, eliciting a filthy moan from me.

The sensation is maddening and consuming when he slips his tongue into my mouth, nibbling on my lips in dominant strokes that make me moan against his mouth, soaking my underwear with my arousal.

He wrenches his lips off mine, his eyes dark with want and rage as he grabs onto my nape.

“God, I want to fuck you so hard.” His breath against my lips is rough and hard, the muscles of his chest stiff and tense against my aching, heavy breasts.

I suppress a moan at his words.

“I want to own you, mark you, bruise you and you ruin you so thoroughly for other men so all that's left in those tiny, defiant bones of yours is knowing that you belong to me.” His fingers trail down my cheek, hot, scorching and needy, then they wrap around my throat.

A moan spills into the air and I recognize it as mine.

His grip on my neck isn't hard enough to cut off my airflow, but it's hard enough for me to feel myself drip, to feel every sense of ownership in the way he strokes my raging pulse.

“Just get it over with.” I say with a wheeze-like moan, like I'm not aching to feel him inside me.

He scoffs, his bulge pressing against me like he's trying to show me the kind of hold I have over him, and fuck if it doesn't turn me on and mess me up on the insides.

“I'm not going to go easy on you, Pumpkin. I'm going to fuck you raw. Hard and fast, and you are going to love every second of it.” He spins me around and my front connects with the glass.

The view of the city soaked in golden lights and the fading sunset graces my sight and I try to indulge in it to distract myself from what's coming, from the way my nipples tighten to a point of painful aching and my pussy throbs with need.

Christian looms behind me like my reckoning, his veiny fingers finding my zipper and drawing it downwards as he presses his hard front into my back. I whimper, my legs trembling with anticipation of how much of a wreck they are going to be by the end of tonight.

“You have been such a brat, Pumpkin. You deserve to be punished for it, don't you?” he yanks down the sleeves of my dress and my breasts spill out.

My body quakes with need when my sensitive buds graze the glass. His large, rough palms come up to cup my breasts and get a feel for how thirsty they are for his touch.

“Do they hurt?” he bites my earlobe, his raging breath filling my ears as he pinches them hard enough to bruise.

My core tingles, and I bite down on my lip to suppress my moans. “Ugh, fuck.”

He flicks his thumb over my nipples, pinching them again and I nearly come because of how stimulating his touch is.

“Mine. All mine.” He grunts, kneading my breasts.

“Please…” My whimpers are tainted with sobs. “Please, daddy. Please…”

“Yes, beg for it like my whore that you are. Beg me to fuck you.”

His words are degrading and they shouldn't turn me on this much, but they bring me closer to the edge as he tortures my nipples, dangling my release just out of reach, letting me taste it but never letting me have it.

“Please, daddy…fuck me…”

“Such a good fucking girl.” I turn greedy, moaning like his little whore when I hear the rattling of his belt behind me.

I wiggle impatiently against him, eliciting deep-throated groans from him that only stroke my needy nerves. He bunches my dress to my waist, and my legs waver as the rippling, angry sound of my underwear echoes through the air.

“Look at you, daddy's little Pumpkin, so beautiful, so greedy, so fucking needy. All for me.” He pushes my quivering legs apart with his knees, gliding the tip of his engorged cock up and down my wetness.

I whimper, clawing at the glass and wiggling against him.

“You want daddy's cock, don't you?” he grunts, gathering my hair in his fist.

He tugs at it hard enough for me to feel the painful, tingling sensation on my scalp. But the pain that bleeds into my scalp blurs into something else—something raw and arousing that only coats my thighs with my wetness.

“Yes, daddy. I'll be so good for you, I swear. Just this once, let me have—” he drives into me in one ruthless thrust, slamming me against the glass with a force that makes my entire body shake.

“Argh!” hot tears pool in my eyes. I part my lips, the world before me through the glass fading into stardust.

“Fuck, you are so tight, Pumpkin.” He pulls harder at my hair, pinning me in place with his huge, muscular body as he pulls out of me and pounds into me again.

A gasp is forced out of me, syncing with his satisfactory grunt.

“Even your pussy knows who it belongs to. It's just as greedy as you are, only it has no problem admitting that it wants my cock.” His tense, muscular body behind me tightens with a greediness that doesn't give me the time to adjust to his huge, cunt-tearing size.

I moan, hard, clenching around him greedily. Fuck, he's so big. It's too much, even as it makes me drool, it makes my eyes water, tears trailing down my cheeks as he forces me to adjust to his size.

His cock fills me up unapologetically, tearing through me and stretching me to my full capacity. I'm no virgin, but he fuckin makes me feel like one. I can feel the vision before me fading into oblivion from the sensations of him forcing me to take him alone.

“Christian…oh, my God…I can't take it.” I choke on a sob, the maddening pleasure wrapping around my throat like an invisible noose, snuffing out my ability to draw breath. “It's too much, fuck, it's too much…”

His palm locks on my nape, his possessive touch burning into me like a permanent imprint. “Yes, you can, Pumpkin. You are going to be a good girl and take all of me. It's all yours, open up, breathe for me and take it all in.”

His veiny fingers find their way to my lips, parting them while he grabs onto one of my boobs with his other hand, torturing my sensitive nipple.

“Oh, God…”

“Not him. Me. He can’t help you anymore. I'm the one fucking your brains out.” He growls, pulling out of me and powering into again me harshly.

His strokes turn me delirious and I'm left to claw at the glass, struggling to breathe as he stimulates me from all angles. My palms flatten against it for balance, my legs quivering terribly as my nails scratch at it like I desperately need it as an anchor to breathe. His pace turns furious and outright animalistic as he pounds me into the glass wall without remorse.

Screams and sobs tear from my throat as he fucks me like he loathes me and he's obsessed with me at the same time. I have never been taken so unapologetically and ruthlessly before and it drives me to the brink of insanity.

Every stroke slams my breath out of my lungs and makes me sob. It smears my makeup, my mascara and eyeliner trickling down my face, mixing with my tears and teasing my lips with the taste. Not just the taste of my makeup, but also the taste of him.

“It's too good,” I whimper.

“Oh, yeah?” he grunts, fisting my hair. “You love being fucked against the glass like this, don't you? Splayed against the fucking surface with your boobs spilling out, your dress bunched to your waist, me pounding into you from behind, knowing that anyone can walk in on us. Don't you, my Pumpkin?”

The slapping of our skin against each other, coupled with my filthy moans and his deep-throated groans echo through his spacious office like some twisted lullaby. It's twisted, deranged and maddening, but I fucking love it.

“Yes, daddy. Oh, my God, yes!”

Christian fucks me like he wants to hurt me and own me at the same time. He sucks on my neck and pinches my nipples like he's leaving marks to remind me of who I belong to. He thrusts in and out of me in punishing strokes, like he wants to embed himself under my skin, so he's the only thing I can feel, smell, and taste.

Oh, and he is.

He consumes me, like my damnation, an addiction that I can't fucking get enough of. My senses are clouded by his scent—cedar wood, musk and something that is animalistically him.

“More, daddy. More…” I trail off in a shaky moan.

“You dirty girl,” he says huskily, cupping my breast and digging his nails into my hip to keep me in place. “Did you really think you could run from me? You should have run that night, but you didn't. Here you are, taking daddy's cock like my dirty fucking slut.”

He grabs onto my neck from behind, choking me as he fucks me.

His strokes grow harsher. It's like he's punishing me for everything that has ensued over the last couple of weeks; for every hurtful thing I have said to him, for every time I looked him in the eye, and lied about what I felt for him, about our connection, for every time I have run from him.

His thrusts blur the line between pain and pleasure, lust and obsession, sanity and madness, everything dark and sadistic.

“Oh…I'm?—”

“You don't get to come yet.” He bites my earlobe, dragging out a moan from me as he teases my nipples. “I want you to feel this, to feel our maddening connection. And every time you tell yourself that you don't want me, you'll remember this moment and think about how I'm owning you.”

It's hard to contain the clenching of my abdomen and the orgasm that rocks through me without permission.

Christian doesn't stop. Instead, my unexpected orgasm seems to enrage him as he fucks me through my release until his back tenses and he spills his load into me, grunting as he tugs hard at my nipple.

I stare at the city below us with teary eyes, biting down on my lip as he strokes the contours of my breasts. He's glued to me from behind, not letting me go for a second, even as our heavy breathing mixes in the room.

Why should something so wrong feel so right? Why does every cell in my body come alive only when he's holding me?

“Christian…”

“I don't want to hear it.” He nuzzles his face into my neck, not entertaining whatever I was about to ask as he holds me close.

My breathing slows.

“You have ruined me for any other woman, Aurora.”