Hunted for Halloween

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

AURORA

“ Y ou fucked the man?!” Lydia screeches with wide eyes. I wince, cowering backwards in my car.

I look away from the screen of my phone, glancing around my driveway where my car is parked as if I want to check if anyone is watching. Then, I swing my head towards her, my eyes narrowing on her in a glare.

“Keep it down,” I hiss through gritted teeth.

“I'm not keeping anything down, bitch. You fucked your dad's best friend. I'm struggling to wrap my head around the fact that he made you come in a corn maze on Halloween.” Much to my horror, Lydia doesn't in any way look pissed, in fact, she looks amused, grinning from ear to ear.

“How was it?” she wiggles her eyebrows at me, tossing some chips into her mouth.

My eyes widened in shock. “Lydia!”

“What? I looked the man up, he's insanely hot and ripped. He's a monster in bed, no doubt.” She says with a casual shrug. My core tingles in remembrance of him inside me, my cheeks burning hot.

“Lydia, please. Can you act serious?” I groan, tucking my hair behind my ear.

“Fine,” she rolls her eyes. I exhale. “Do you like him?” She speaks up softly.

“What? No! Are you crazy? Did you miss the part where I said he's my Dad's best friend? He's fifty years old for goodness sake!” I lament.

“I heard that part.” She grins. “But it didn't stop you from spreading those legs and fucking him.”

“I know, it was a?—”

“Don't you dare finish that sentence.” Lydia levels me with a glowering look. “It wasn't a mistake. Three times, Aurora Marshall. You have been with him, three fucking times. Yes, you only slept with him once but if you didn't want him, you wouldn't have gone along with it. I know you, Aurora. You don't just sleep with anyone.” Her eyes are pinned on me, those words striking nerves I don't want them to.

“I don't like him.” I insist, even though my guts twist as I say those words.

“You are lying.” She grimaces.

“You don't?—”

“I don't get it?” she arches a brow at me and completes it before I can finish. “It's complicated. He's your dad's best friend and things are probably going to get more complicated when your Dad finds out, but don't lie to yourself by telling me that you don't like him.”

I look away from her, blinking back my tears. I hate that she's right. “I don't know what to do…” I say shakily.

“Of course you do,” she smiles at me. “For starters, stop running from him. Maybe you two can figure things out from there.”

“Okay,” I whisper. She flashes me a huge grin that instantly makes my heart melt. “I have to go in now. I need to finish up with some sketches. How does having drinks tomorrow evening sound?”

“Perfect!” she claps her hands like a little girl, eliciting a giggle from me. “I'll see you tomorrow. I love you!”

I wave at her and she hangs up.

My deep exhale fills the car when I put my phone away. I pick up my bag and alight from my car, heading to the front porch. I punch in my passcode into the security system at the door and it beeps open, letting me in.

The space between my brows dip in confusion when I notice that the lights are on. I might be forgetful at times but one thing I never do is leave my lights on when I'm heading out. My handbag drops to the floor with a thud when I hear the clinking of utensils in my kitchen.

An alarm goes off in my head when I register the danger lurking in the confines of my home. My heartbeat quickens, cold sweat breaking out on my skin.

There's someone in my house.

I stand rooted to a spot, my heart pounding erratically as goosebumps sprout all over my skin. I contemplate bolting out of the house when I still have a chance to, but I decide against it. I crouch softly, taking off my heels. I tiptoe towards the kitchen with both pairs in my hands, ready to lunge at my intruder.

Broad muscular back clad in a crisp dark shirt is the first thing that unfurls in my view when I stop short at the entrance. I feel my heart sink to the pit of my stomach. I don't know whether it's a relief or disappointment. I'd recognize that thick mane of dark hair anywhere. Lush dark strands that I have fisted on different occasions—three days ago, even.

“What do you think you are doing?” The question comes out harsh, laced with disbelief.

“Making us dinner.” I'm convinced Christian is not human, because he doesn't even flinch at the sound of my voice and judging by the look of things, he must have heard me come in.

He turns off the stove, whirling around to face me. My jaw nearly hits the ground because his mouth watering muscles are on display. The sleeves of his dark shirt are rolled to his elbows, his top buttons undone, giving me a sinful peek of his hard chest.

Whiskey eyes size me up in a lazy, sensual perusal, making my toes curl. I want to tug at the hem of my short knit button-up dress with how he's practically eye fucking me where I'm standing.

I fold my arms under my chest, unconsciously pushing up my breasts. “Are you insane? Who breaks into someone's house and cooks them dinner?”

“I didn't break in.” He disagrees, his husky voice slipping past his lips with a collected edge. “I just let myself in.”

“This is an abuse of power, you know? Simply because you run a security firm doesn't give you the right to hack my apartment's security system. This is insane, Christian. You can't just do things like that!” I raise my voice, throwing my hands up in the air.

“Yes, I can.” He responds coldly. “Would you have let me come if I told you I wanted to come? You aren't even answering my texts.” His jaw flexes in irritation and he tosses the napkin in his hands on the counter.

“Oh, you mean the ones where you have been texting me like an obsessive ex-boyfriend?” I snort, my tone sarcastic.

“I told you to stop running from me.” He seethes, his huge frame tense, radiating with anger.

“How could I possibly run from you?” I disregard the fact that being anywhere close to him makes me lose control, marching towards him. “You are my Dad's best friend, who invades my privacy however and whenever he wants, so there's really no running from you, Christian. You have made yourself clear.” I shout, exasperated.

Christian stares at me like he wants to choke me and fuck me at the same time. It's infuriating because my body burns with the same intensity that rages in his eyes.

“Come here,” the command hangs thick in the kitchen, containing an ominous edge.

I stay rooted to the same spot, blinking rapidly and trying to grasp what he means. Not that I don't pick up the underlying meaning in those two words, I'm just flummoxed that it's the only thing he can think of right now.

“W-what?”

“Don't make me say it again, Pumpkin.” He clings to a calm, controlled facade. The only thing that gives him away is the predatory look in those whiskey eyes. “I don't want to come over there and do it myself.”

My legs oblige before my mind can pick up on what I’m doing. I trudge towards him with slow, cautious steps. My palms turn sweaty, my heart raging against my ribcage as the space between my legs heats up.

The way Christian grabs onto me when I'm within arm's reach has me teetering between desperation and hunger. He yanks me towards him, pulling my small frame against his chest. He sucks in a breath, a satisfied hum unfurling from his lips.

I want to fight it, but my nostrils greedily cling to his scent, devouring it. It feels like I'm breathing him in for the first time, causing my heart to skip multiple times. I splay my palm on his chest to push him away, but my fingers trace against his pectoral muscles, appreciating every inch of his masculine beauty.

“I missed you.” He rasps.

My chest twists with an emotion that I don't recognize when I pick up how vulnerable he sounds.

My eyes slowly blink open, and I look up at him.

Our gazes clash, and I swear, it sends shivers down my spine, exploding in my veins like zaps of electricity. There's something utterly magnetic about the way he stares at me. It’s like he’s torn between looking at me like I'm the most beautiful thing he has ever seen and wanting to devour me at the same time. It's raw, shameless and intoxicating.

“Christian, we can't keep doing this…” I trail off, tears building up in my eyes.

He picks me up like I’m a porcelain doll, my backside hitting the edge of the countertop. The cold greasy surface connects with the back of my thigh, tightening my skin with anticipation. My lips part when I look up, his dark, lustful gaze making me swallow.

“I can't think straight at work.” He pushes his way between my legs, his veiny calloused fingers dragging up my bare skin and hiking my dress up roughly. “Every little fucking thing reminds me of you and knowing that I fucked you in my office a few days ago isn't helping.” He tugs me into him sharply, pressing his bulge into me.

It's too much. Him. This. All of this. His scent invades my mind. His touch makes my skin burn, and my heart feels like it's about to punch a hole through my chest.

“You are everywhere, Aurora. Your scent. Your touch. Your voice. In my mind. In my thoughts. In my head. You are buried so deeply beneath my skin. I couldn’t even tear you out if I tried.” He wraps his hands around my thigh, his fingers digging into my skin harshly, intending to leave marks as he brushes his lips against mine.

It's teasing, but I can also sense that he's struggling to contain how much he wants me.

My eyes water. I arch into him, needing some sort of friction. Him. Anything. I just need something. The urge is so consuming. It's the only thing I can feel, clouding my senses and taking away my reasoning.

“You have gotten what you wanted. Why can't you just stay away from me?” I beg as my lips tremble.

His hand slides under my dress, the shredding sound of my underwear filling the air as I instinctively raise my hips so that he can remove the tattered scraps of clothing.

His heated, ragged breathing consumes me to the point that I barely notice him undoing his fly. He slams into me without warning. I let out a surprised cry, tears spilling from my eyes as I grab onto his shoulders.

“I can never be done with you, Pumpkin.” He slides out of me and slams into me again. “Not now,” slam “Not ever,” he grabs onto my hips, dragging his nose along my neck as he sucks and nips against the skin.

“Oh, God.” I bite down on my lips to suppress my moans.

“Don't you dare hold them back.” He pulls out of me and pounds into me again. He grabs my jaw roughly, his fingers digging into both sides. His jaw is tightly locked, his eyes glinting with lust, fury and frustration. “I want to hear every sound you make, and you are going to look at me while I fuck you.”

My lips are trembling and my legs are shaking as he takes me ruthlessly against the counter. I'm consumed with fury and frustration because I hate this. No, it's not the sex I hate. The sex is so damn good that it makes me sob every time he takes me unapologetically. It's the way he takes away a part of me and consume me every time he fucks me. Every stroke, every thrust, they shatter my walls.

Christian doesn't just fuck me like he's punishing me. He fucks me like he wants to break me. Like he wants to get me to embrace my deepest, darkest desires. He fucks me like he wants to pound my stubbornness and attitude out of me. It's torturous. It's maddening. It's intoxicating.

Every thrust feels like an imprint.

“Fuck, right there.” I can taste my mascara and eyeliner on my lips as it mixes with my tears. As he grabs onto my hip with one hand, he finds my nape with the other, his fingers sinking into my blonde hair.

“You take daddy's cock like a good girl. Fuck, baby.” His thrusts grow harsher, more desperate.

I roll my hip against his, thrusting my aching, heavy breasts in his face, needing more of him. More of his cock. More of his scent. All of him. My body feels so brutally invaded, yet I'm nowhere near satiated.

His deep-throated groans, my moans and the sloppy sounds of our enjoined parts colors the room in sensual echoes. My nails drag across his back and it feels like I'm going to slip off the counter every time he hits a sensitive spot. My eyes roll back in their sockets, my moans reduced to helpless whimpers when my throat grows hoarse.

“Your pussy is made for me. Just like you are made for me. You are going to be a good girl and you'll remember that every fucking time.” His words are rushed out in a dark rasp against my skin, and I only grow more aroused as he speaks.

I wrap my legs around him, my arms wrapped around his large body as my frame aligns with his like I want to fuse our bodies together as one.

“Oh…it's so good…” I moan as I fist his hair.

“Daddy fucks you so good, doesn't he?” he hits that sensitive spot again and I almost cower backwards, away from how good it feels.

“Yes, oh God, yes.”

“You are going to come for daddy, aren’t you?” he murmurs, deepening his strokes.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl.”

Those words destroy me as I clench around him, coming all over his cock.

Christian doesn't stop fucking me. He holds me possessively in place, slamming into me over and over again until he finds his release, spilling his load inside me. He releases my nape, his fingers caressing my cheek as he breathes against my skin heavily.

I can't deny that there's something utterly intimate about the way he just fucked me against this counter. It's not just rough. It's deeper in intensity, and it terrifies me. It makes me feel like we are one of those couples on a lazy evening, catching up after work when all we have been able to think about all day is being buried inside each other.

“I'm not letting you go, Aurora.” He tells me without mincing words. His eyes are closed. It's like he's relishing in how homey it feels to be inside me. “If you are going to run, you might as well start now because I'm going to chase you to the ends of the earth if I have to.”

I swallow thickly. He speaks with a conviction that terrifies me. I don't know where I find the courage as I cup his cheek, kissing him softly.

He moans into the kiss, and I can feel him getting hard inside me again.

“If you are going to keep fucking me against every surface you find, you should at least find out if I'm on the pill.” I bite my lip, suppressing a smile.

“Are you?” he murmurs. The man sounds sexy as hell. It makes my insides go haywire.

I nod.

“Perfect,” he groans like he hates the idea of wearing a condom when he's inside me. He reaches for my lips, lazily dragging his thumb over them.

“Christian?”

“Hm?”

I kiss him, hard, until I can't breathe and I tell him, “no more running.”

It's not my profession that scares me. It's this man. This dark, beautiful, brooding man with a personality like the rough edges of broken glass.

But, I'll be damned if I allow my fears to get in the way of exploring what I feel for him.