Page 8 of Hunt Me
Go home now. She belongs to me.
When I dropped him, he teetered forward, turning toward the stunning woman and whispering words of apology.
As he stumbled toward the exit, she followed him with her eyes. Her mouth was twisted in amusement. Once he was gone, she slowly shifted her heated gaze in my direction.
“I was doing just fine,” she insisted.
“Yes, you were, but men like that usually don’t take no for an answer.”
“Ah, so you were standing by so you could be my hero.”
I chuckled softly. “I assure you that no one would ever consider me a hero.”
No, some would consider me the kind of man nightmares were made of.
She yawned as if the entire situation bored her to death.
I desired to unravel the woman, breaking all her defenses. My cock twitched in full appreciation of the sadistic hunger festering inside.
After waiting for a full minute, I moved a few seats away from where she’d taken up residence, the vantage point allowing me to see both doors leading into the ballroom and the bulk of the guests.
The unknown beauty didn’t bother looking in my direction, her feigned boredom continuing. But I could sense her interest.
And I could smell her desire.
Even given the late hour, she didn’t appear intoxicated. In truth, she appeared as bored as I’d become. The only way she allowed me to know she sensed my presence was by shifting forward in her seat.
With her long, dark hair spiraling in curls to her waist and the makeup that perfectly matched her violet velvet dress, she was a woman of true beauty. And I’d yet to see her eyes. I sat back in my seat, enjoying the view.
She finally took a deep breath, casually glancing over her shoulder.
Seeing her eyes in the light not only drew my complete attention, but that of my cock. They were the color of her dress and the way her long black eyelashes skimmed across the shimmer of her cheeks was breathtaking. She wrinkled her nose as if disliking what she saw.
That amused me more than anything. I was used to snapping my fingers and getting a woman for the night. Not that I’d had either the inclination or the time during the last few months, but the understanding I could have any woman I wanted remained in the back of my mind.
However, lately the girls I’d taken to my bed had also bored me. They were all the same, greedy for power and wealth.
She shifted so her head was turned further away, finally bringing the glass of champagne to her lips. They were voluptuous and my mind shifted to the filthy beast I had inside of me. All men did, but mine was primal in nature. I imagined her succulent lips wrapped around my cockhead with her stunning eyes peering up at me.
I toyed with my drink, running the tip of my finger around the rim creating a humming noise. For some reason, that caught her attention and she allowed me the joy of seeing her entire face. She was the most gorgeous woman I’d laid eyes on in a very long time. If not ever.
“Do you mind not doing that?” she asked. Her tone was haughty, full of annoyance, and the fire in her eyes was a challenge.
I did so love a good challenge.
“Doing what?” I continued the action, eager to see how she’d react. The hum was low, certainly not loud enough for anyone else to hear.
“That.” She pointed toward the glass. I expected to see perfectly manicured nails like every woman in the room had. Hers were short, one nail broken off. When I allowed my gaze to fall to her long fingers, she folded them into a fist.
“This?” I asked as I repeated the action for a few additional seconds.
“Men always need to be top dog. Don’t they?”
“Is that what I’m doing?” I crossed my legs, swirling the glass as my lips upturned in a smile. This was the best entertainment I’d had all night.
“Come now. I’ve been around the block a time or two. You find a woman sitting by herself at a sappy wedding and you figure she’s easy pickings.”
“From what I can tell, nothing with you is easy. A man will need to enrapture the very darkness within your soul.” I found it interesting she hadn’t asked for my name. Maybe she already knew it.
