Prince Hunter: A Prince of Tease Novel (Princes of Tease Book 2) Read online

  “Probably?”

  “Strong probably.”

  Helplessly, I smirk. “Then that's even better than a phone number.”

  “You can't possibly be serious,” her boyfriend grumbles.

  “If I know Rory as well as I think I do, she'd want me to.”

  “He fucked Rory?!”

  Rory. I like that. I bet I'd like it even more when I'm beggin' her to let me take her deeper.

  She hands me back my card, blatantly ignoring him. “She'll be at the piano bar The Den tonight checking out some of the performers. The bride to be's band quit, so she's on the hunt for a replacement. Do you know where that is?”

  “I do.”

  Also know one of their favorite pianist. Wonder if Arik will be there tonight. That'd make the world even fuckin' smaller.

  Once I've tucked the card back into my wallet, I offer her a final grin. “Thanks.”

  She giggles as if she knows something I don't. “You're welcome...Your pick up time tomorrow is expected for 11.”

  “Thank you....” I motion my hand for her to insert her name.

  “Megan.”

  Her hand extends for me to shake. “Hunter.”

  The growling noise returns and our touch drops.

  She sighs and motions towards him. “My normally very sweet boyfriend, Dean.”

  “Not to assholes who try to fuck my girlfriend.”

  Knowing he wants to fight, but wants reassurance more, I extend my hand for him to shake. “With all due respect, no interest in your girlfriend. The pretty blonde I haven't been able to get out of my head on the other hand? Absolutely.”

  He doesn't shake. He simply folds his arms across his chest. “She's like fucking family.”

  This isn't shapin' up the way I was hopin'. Hell, with him protectin' her if this isn't just one more night, I better prepare for him tryin' to buck me out of her life repeatedly.

  “Ya know, if it makes you feel better Megan barely even watched the show. She spent a good portion of the time hidin' her face,” I pause to settle my accent again, “and pretending to refill her drink in the kitchen. It was quite clear she had no interest in the half naked man dancing around the room.”

  His face twitches a smirk, but he doesn't comment.

  It's another reason her face stood out to me. She was the only one whose attention I couldn't capture. Not for lack of trying. Hey! It's my job to make sure everyone is pleased with my performance. At least now I can assume why.

  I begin to back up towards the door. “Thanks again, Megan.”

  With another smirk she sighs, “Good luck, Hunter.”

  Luck? With a dick like this and smile this gorgeous, I don't need luck. Hell, the only thing I need right now is a shower and a sly introduction line. The rest always handles itself.

  Rory

  “He's awful,” Mal snips, lifting her glass of red wine to her red painted lips. “He's a definite no.”

  I offer her a sympathetic smirk. “You wanna bail? We can start this process again next week.”

  “We don't have next week,” she scoffs. “I need a replacement. And I need it now. And I-” Her voice is cut off by her phone vibrating across the table. “God, now is not the time for this.”

  Mal's boney fingers fly across the small screen while I turn my attention back to the man playing.

  He's not bad. He's at least decent, but very few things ever meet Mal's ridiculously high standards. Her own fiance doesn't. Over the course of their relationship I'm fairly certain I can count the things she likes about him on one hand. They spend more time bickering than doing anything else. Why would you willingly walk into a marriage already miserable? That's not making the most of your life.

  “I am in no mood to discuss this damn pre-nup again,” she whispers angrily, downing the last of her drink. “However, because the monster-in-law is insisting, I apparently have to. Ugh. She's just pissy because she didn't have a spy at the bachelorette party to see what I was up to.”

  More like who...The stripper she hired to be our plaything after the show has strangely still been on my mind. Don't know his name or even the company he works for, making him even more of a delicious mystery. When we started planning for her party, Mal insisted she pick the stripper and that we just all pay for him. None of us objected because well...no one objects to malicious Mal.

  “Swear if that woman wasn't paying for most of my salon trips nowadays, it wouldn't be worth the gray hairs.”

  I offer her another sympathetic smile.

  Mal's the only friend I have from before my parents died and she's always been this way. My parents weren't her biggest fans, but our parents were friends, so naturally, they felt obligated to keep an eye on me for a while by insisting the two of us remain as close as we could given how my grandfather shut me off from most of the world. Even when we were kids Mal only cared about how things affected her central life. She doesn't necessarily care what you have to say or what your opinion is. She rants or whines, stomps her stilettos, then continues with whatever she was doing or whichever way she intends to keep living. Most people in her life are more like scenery than actual participants. Selfish? Absolutely. Yet I respect it. I totally understand the decision to put your own needs first. I'm the same way. My happiness is at the top of my pyramid. I just happen to be a little less bitchy about it.

  “Any chance you can sit through the next musician for me and tell me if he's worth a damn?”

  My face tilts in denial.

  “Come on, Rory.” She pushes her black hair behind her ear. “You're already here and besides you're not even committing to coming to the damn thing, the least you can do is this.”

  Stop giving me that look. I don't know where my life will have lead me by that point. What if I hit the lottery and I've bought an island off the coast of Australia? Or what if some yacht captain wants me to go swimming with sharks? I like the freedom to change my mind when I need too. Besides, from what I know about her big day, she won't even notice if I'm there or not.

  I shrug. “Okay.”

  Mal grins the way she does when she gets her way. “Thank you. And just so we're clear, you would so be maid of honor if you didn't have commitment issues and if Darrin's youngest sister wasn't such a fucking brat. God, I can't wait until she gets married so I can throw the same tantrums she is. Word of advice? Don't marry into a senator's family.” She scrunches her face. “On the one in zillion chance you ever do decide to get married.”

  I slide past her snide comment. “Your father's a Supreme Court judge.”

  Her eyebrows dart down. “And?”

  Unsure of what to say next I press my lips together.

  “Just because they both work for the government doesn't mean they're the same type of people.”

  I feel like we're really splitting hairs at this point. Her father comes from money, makes money, and enjoys seeing his name in the media. Her fiance's father comes from money, makes money, and enjoys seeing his name on billboards. Both families are structured quite similarly with carbon copy Jackie O wives, mistresses who still need help buying alcohol, and three children identical in age. To add to it, both of their fathers are desperate to marry off their oldest as if we're still in the Victorian Era and their kingdoms need it to prove unity. Forgive me for not really seeing a difference like she apparently does.

  She opens her mouth to snip again when her phone starts to vibrate, her fiance's prestigious face appearing on the screen. “Oh. Great. Mommy dearest is making him be the bad guy. I have to go. Text me if he was even worth the bottle of wine I finished.”

  Mal scurries out of the intimate piano bar leaving me on my own at the back table, which doesn't feel as lonely as it looks. The Den itself is very wide, but the way the chairs and tables are positioned it creates an unmistakable intimate feeling. While the lighting is romantic, the posh yet modern décor, alongside the piano players gives it the hole in the wall vibe people love.

  Love little unique places. They'r
e life's little hidden treasures. The ones that really matter anyway. The ones that at the end of it all, you look back and remember the amazing burger you had there versus the mundane one you had weekly at whatever shitty fast food chain you could find in every city. I have a similar view on those I roll around with in the sheets.

  The thought of my last playmate appears in my head again.

  Maybe I can't stop thinking about him because it had been longer than I care to admit since the last time I got some. But then again he was fucking beautiful, wasn't he? Those bulging arms he used to tug me in closer. His deep brown eyes which only complimented his light brown features. The husk and hint of twang in voice. Of course his perfect sized cock and map of what could make any woman's toes curl were also bonuses.

  My bottom lip slips between my teeth just as a voice says over my shoulder. “Can I buy you a drink, Sugar?”

  I glance the direction of the question to see a smile I never thought I'd see again.

  It lit up the whole damn room. Geez, he's beautiful. Man beautiful. Not like a girl. But like a really, really beautiful man. I don't normally ramble like this. Are my cheeks flushed too?

  He sits down in the vacant seat beside me. “Is that a no?”

  After a brief shake of the head, still in minor disbelief he's here of all places, I sigh, “I don't drink.”

  A skeptical expression appears. “So the other night...?”

  “Stone. Cold. Sober.”

  The brown eyes I've been day dreaming about rife with hunger as he shifts in his seat.

  Do you realize how many mind blowing moments people miss when they're inebriated? Besides, I don't need 'the serum' to tell the truth or how I feel. Death is my constant reminder.

  Curiosity kicks in and I question, “How'd you find me?”

  He gives me a playful look. “How do you know it wasn't just a coincidence?”

  “I don't believe in a God that lazy.”

  His grin expands a little more as he nods. “A woman with beliefs. I respect that.”

  “I have many,” I casually add. “Now, how'd you find me?”

  “Your friend, Megan,” he answers, leaning in a little closer, the smell of wood and spice slaving my senses.

  Happily would screw him from his smell alone.

  My silence urges him to continue, “I ran into her at the bakery. She didn't feel comfortable giving me your phone number, but managed to give me something much much better.”

  Helplessly, I smile.

  “I wanted to see you again.”

  “Oh yeah?” The next musician begins to stroke the ivories. “Why's that?”

  He leans his face forward. “Because I haven't been able to get your beautiful face out of my head.”

  Not original, but sounds enough like the truth. I'll bite. Probably hard in a minute.

  “I'm Hunter, by the way.”

  “You already know my name.”

  “I do.” His grin softens. “So, what do you think? Can I have your number?”

  Hunter's eyes seem to latch onto mine, firmly tying our attention together. Unsure of what it is about him or them, I continue to stare on, an unfamiliar tightening occurring in my chest.

  Am I having a heart attack? I know I'm not technically too young since they can happen to anyone, but now's not really a good time. Not with all the best parts of southern men wrapped into one very rugged, very muscular, very irresistibly sexy package sitting in front of me.

  With my lips pressed against his ear, I whisper, “What I think is... I wanna fuck you in the bathroom.”

  The hitch in his breath causes me to grin. When I lean back with a mischievous smirk and lifted eyebrows, Hunter's heated expression deepens as if not afraid of the challenge.

  You wouldn't believe how many guys are scared off by public sex. I won't lie. It is one of the little tests to see if they're worth another go.

  “Alright, Sugar,” his voice lowers to a whisper. “Let's go.”

  Excitement thrums through my system. Doing my best to remain casual, I grab my clutch, stand, and head towards the left for the hallway. Within a few strides, I'm lingering by the bathrooms, waiting for him to join.

  He did the gentlemanly thing and closed the tab first. Screw a girl in the bathroom and pick up the check. If relationships were my thing, both of those things would totally put him in the win category.

  Hunter's large frame begins to appear, the sight from a distance overwhelming as much as enticing. His accent is stronger than before. “Dealer's choice. Men's or Women's?”

  “Men's,” I instantly reply. With my back now against the door I state, “They're less likely to complain to management.”

  He cocks his head to the side. “Not your first rodeo?”

  I drag my hands slowly up his chest, the feeling of his muscles tightening, causes my pussy to mimic the action. “Nope. Yours?”

  To my surprise he nods. “But it doesn't mean I'm not open to changin' that.”

  No more words are exchanged between us. His mouth swiftly descends to softly capture mine. The way he's gingerly lingering his lips informs me he intends to be cautious and careful, two ways of living I don't care for. Aggressively, I sink my teeth into his bottom lip, my own reckless desires destroying the possibility.

  Hunter abruptly pulls back, a puzzled look swirling in his eyes. “You want me to stop?”

  “I want you to be rougher, Cowboy.”

  His eyebrows lift.

  “I won't break...”

  An unmistakable growl leaves him seconds before he shoves the bathroom door open. Tumbling backwards, a small squeak escapes me when he swoops an arm around my waist to not only catch me, but lift me up. I lower my mouth to the crook of his neck and give the area the same treatment I gave his lip moments ago. This time when my teeth cut into his flesh he groans and returns a rough gesture by bracing me harshly against the wall in the largest stall. After slipping away only briefly to lock us in, he moves his mouth back to mine wasting no time dominating my tongue with his. Each hard push declares he understands exactly what I want. What I need. What I expect. Hunter's large palms roam across my body aimlessly. He firmly feels my tits, tugs my nipples, glides down my sides to roughly cup my ass. The harsh grab elicits a light moan seconds before he slides underneath my skirt and hooks his fingers around the thin string of my thong.

  His mouth falls from mine but doesn't say a word as he adds his other hand to assist in the removal of my underwear.

  I clarify in a playful tone, “You could've just torn 'em.”

  Once they're successfully in his possession he retorts, “And damage my trophy? I don't think so, Sugar.”

  Damn. I'll admit, I wasn't expecting him to say that. Maybe there's a sexual deviant just waiting to be woken up inside. Oooo....I hope I'm the one to wake him. Huh. Where did that thought come from?

  The thrill of watching him shove my underwear into his pocket tears through my body, leaving my pussy tingling in anticipation.

  After my panties have disappeared, he pulls out a condom from his back pocket and sternly commands, “Unbuckle me.”

  I wet my lips and leisurely follow the order. Hunter intently watches, body straining to control itself as I keep my movements agonizingly slow. I tug his jeans down along with his underwear and graze the throbbing new guest in our intimate situation. A loud hiss escapes.

  How the hell did I fit this inside me before? I can barely get my hand around it.

  “You can tug it harder, Sugar,” he pants, which encourages me to increase the stroking. “I won't break either.”

  Not afraid to joke during sex. Another plus.

  All of a sudden the sound of another stall door closing interrupts the sexual banter.

  Truth time...

  A flash of concern covers his face. “You wanna wait til he leaves?”

  With my hand still wrapped around his cock, I begin to jerk faster. “I want him to hear.”

  Hunter groans again, this time letting his eyes f
all shut. I continue rubbing, enthralled with the way the muscles in his neck are bulging. The way his breath is coming in shorter and shorter increments. The way he seems to be tottering right on the edge of control and chaos.

  You can guess which side I want him to fall on.

  Unexpectedly, something inside of him breaks. His eyes shoot open and in a swift movement, he yanks my hand away, spins me around, and demands, “Hands on the wall, Sugar.”

  I plant both my hands firmly in place.

  There's a brief sound of a wrapper being ripped before his rough hands are tugging up my skirt. One final breath is all I take before he's pushed his dick to the hilt, the action neither slow nor gentle.