HUNTER (The Corbin Brothers Book 1)

by Lexie Ray

  “And when does the shyness stop?” Andrew asked me, his face kind. “When do I get to know the real Pumpkin?”

  The real Pumpkin? I wasn’t sure that anyone knew her. I was careful, observant, cautious above all, calculating, and sometimes frighteningly cold. I thought back on the day the police raided Mama’s nightclub, how I’d nearly run away from Cream—nearly left her behind to save myself. That Pumpkin was a self-preservationist. She was almost like a machine.

  I scared myself sometimes.

  I made myself smile for Andrew. “I hope you can be patient with me,” I said. “It’s just hard for me to be in a new place.”

  “I can understand that,” Andrew said, bouncing his knee a little bit. The small motion sent a shockwave of arousal through me. I turned a sharp inhalation into a tiny cough, trying to mask how my body was involuntarily reacting.

  “What can I do to help you adjust?” he asked, his eyes so dark they only barely reflected the light of the fixture in the kitchen. It gave them the illusion of being bottomless. “Would it help to get to know me a little better?”

  “Maybe,” I said, finding it hard to break away from that magnetic stare. I did so, regardless, and took a sip of my orange juice. Andrew was shaping up to be enormously charismatic. I didn’t want to fall under his spell at all. I at least wanted to gather up some more puzzle pieces before I allowed myself to be completely and blindly attracted to him, as Cream was.

  “Well, that’s easy,” he said. “What do you want to know?”

  I shrugged, debating. What did I really want to know? I wanted to know if he’d ever bought anybody before. I wanted to know what he’d do with us if he ever got tired of our presence. I wanted to know why he kept the door locked and didn’t want us to go out while he was gone.

  I wanted to know all of those things, but they weren’t things I could ask. Those were things I was going to have to figure out using other methods.

  “What is it that you do?” I asked finally. “At work, I mean.”

  Andrew smiled. “Overseas security,” he said. “It’s kind of classified stuff.”

  I pondered this for a few minutes, the wheels in my brain cranking. It would be easy to give that as an answer for whatever he did. If I started asking too many questions about it, he could use the classified bit to deflect them. It raised my suspicions at once.

  “Is that interesting work?” I asked. “It certainly keeps you busy, it seems like.”

  “I am very busy,” he admitted, blowing on his espresso before taking a drink. “But it’s rewarding in only the way security work can be. If it all goes well, you never even know we’re there.”

  “Do you work through the government?” I asked. I wanted to establish some sense of his character, some idea of what kind of morals or values he might hold.

  “No,” he said. “It’s a private firm. Better pay than slaving for the government. Better hours, too.”

  That raised another flag for me. If he’d worked for the government—or said he did—I would’ve felt better. There was oversight, there, people looking over your shoulder. Who was looking over the shoulder of a private security firm? I remembered hearing newscasts growing up about contractors going rogue from certain security firms, killing indiscriminately while on assignments. Had they been Andrew’s men?

  “And what, exactly, is your role there?” I asked.

  “That’s classified,” he said with a grin. “But I can tell you I’m administrative. I don’t work in the field anymore.”

  Anymore? That was cold comfort. That meant he had been a soldier for hire at some point. Had he killed before? The question was almost as frightening as any possible answer might be.

  I was learning some, but it felt like I was getting further and further away from the big picture. Andrew was giving me answers, but they were obscuring any real sort of revelation. That, in of itself, told me volumes. This was a man with secrets.

  It was obvious that Cream and I were a couple of his biggest ones.

  I was chilled enough to forget about the way being so close to him was affecting my body—until he shifted again. With a small degree of horror that pierced through my arousal, I realized that my pussy was wet.

  “Are you feeling a little more comfortable now?” he asked me, smiling.

  “Yes, thank you,” I said, returning the smile.

  “I know it has to be tough being away from your family in East Harlem,” Andrew said. “But I hope you’ll soon consider me a part of your family.”

  My smile froze on my face. How could he possibly know I was from East Harlem? I took a long drink of juice to hide my shock. Cream. It had to have been Cream. Her pillow talk with Andrew hit just a little too close to home for my liking. I thought I could trust her. Was I going to start having to watch her as closely as I watched Andrew?

  Was I going to have to start watching what I said to her? My world shrunk in a span of seconds. The only person I could trust was myself. I’d always known that. It was just hard to think about what Cream might have revealed to Andrew during their intimate times together.

  A thought dawned on me. Maybe I’d find out more about Andrew—more valuable details than the throwaway information he’d shared just now—if it was pillow talk.

  After I’d slept with him.

  I glanced up at the clock. “Should I start some breakfast?” I asked. “I make a mean omelet, if you can stand spicy food in the morning.”

  “That sounds amazing,” Andrew said, helping me to hop up off his lap. “Oh, look at this, Pumpkin.”

  I turned back to him, my lips pursed in a question, and I flushed to the very roots of my hair. Andrew smirked at me pointing at his thigh, where a very obvious wet spot darkened the cotton of his pants. It was right where I had been sitting, physical evidence of just how aroused I’d been on his lap.

  “Don’t be embarrassed, my sweet Pumpkin,” he crooned, laughing as he stood up and hugged me to his body. I could feel his erection press against me. “I welcome this. I was beginning to be afraid that you weren’t at all attracted to me.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I managed to say, wishing for a swift and immediate death to deliver me from my embarrassed horror. “You’re a handsome man. Of course I’m attracted to you.”

  “I like you, Pumpkin,” Andrew said, releasing me from the hug. “I like trying to puzzle you out. I know I’m going to figure you all out one of these days. I bet I’ll be a little disappointed once I do, but by that time, I think we’ll know each other inside and out.”

  I didn’t like the way this was going. To hide my unease, I turned to the fridge to start gathering ingredients for breakfast. When I glanced back at Andrew, I stopped. He was practically leering at me.

  I swallowed and flipped a switch inside of myself, one I’d used many a time at Mama’s nightclub. “Like what you see?” I said suggestively, turning around and bending down deliberately to retrieve a skillet from a low shelf.

  “I think you know the answer to that question,” Andrew said, his erection making a tent in his pants.

  “I do know the answer to that question,” I said sweetly. “But I’d like to hear you say it, all the same.”

  I turned the burner on and heated a little olive oil, doing my waiting trick. It drove men nuts.

  All the same, I jumped when he pressed himself into me, putting his arms around me and squeezing my tits as if they were ripe fruit. I hadn’t heard him approach.

  “Yes, I fucking like what I see,” he rasped in my ear, his voice low, needy. “You flaunt that ass around here all the time. I have to look at it at every moment, crave it from afar. I want you so badly that I’d bend you over the table now if you just said the word.”

  “No,” I said, knowing that I was playing with fire. I turned in his arms, by back against the stove, and stared up at his black eyes. “You’ll wait.”

  Andrew was obviously a man who didn’t hear the word “no” very often. His face darkened for a terrifying second befo
re he grinned.

  “I like a girl who plays hard to get,” he said, his face very close to mine. “It just makes me want you even more, Pumpkin.”

  I realized that I could be screwing myself as he stepped back. I learned that at Mama’s nightclub. I could whip anyone up into a frenzy, but I had to deal with the consequences of when they finally did get to have me.

  Andrew rubbed the wet patch of my arousal on his cotton pants and brought his fingers up to his nose, inhaling deeply. I felt a stirring between my legs that had nothing to do with my act.

  “I’m looking forward when I can experience this firsthand,” he said, waving his hand in my face. I could faintly smell my own scent on him.

  “Me, too,” I said softly.

  “I’m going to go get cleaned up while you’re cooking breakfast,” he said. “And maybe I’ll take care of this while I’m at it.” He grabbed his cock through his cotton pants to show me—as if I hadn’t already been aware of it. Maybe Cream hadn’t been exaggerating when she modeled the size for me.

  When he left the kitchen, I let out a quiet sigh. I couldn’t figure out my feelings about Andrew Steele. He worried me deeply, frightened me occasionally, and made me unbearably aroused more often than before. What was I thinking with him? Why wasn’t I being cautious, like I usually was?

  I cut some onions and peppers up and added them to the oil, the tender slices sizzling. Frowning, I stepped away from the stovetop after I heard a strange sound. There it was again. I walked into the hallway and blanched. Andrew’s version of “taking care of” his erection had been to wake Cream up with it. She was yowling loudly from the master bedroom, the door slightly ajar.

  I bit my lip. It was a little bothersome to think about him having sex with Cream after I’d just gotten him so aroused. I hoped he wasn’t hurting her.

  It was kind of unfair for her, too. Andrew was likely thinking of what he’d do to me and exacting it on Cream.

  My curiosity got the better of me and I edged down the hallway. Just a peek, I told myself. I just wanted to observe what was happening. I’d use the information to my advantage.

  The door was at just the perfect angle for me to see the bed. Andrew must have left it open in his haste to relieve his arousal. Maybe he’d been heading to the shower and Cream had woken up, tempting him to take care of it inside her.

  I edged closer and saw them together. A warmth bloomed in my stomach and between my legs. Andrew and Cream made an extremely attractive couple. They were both naked and in profile to me, Andrew fucking Cream doggy style. He had a handful of her hair and was yanking her head backwards in a way that had to be painful, though you couldn’t tell by listening to her. Cream was crying out incoherently, babbling, really, her breasts jiggling wildly from the force of his thrusts.

  The hand that wasn’t pulling her hair was spanking her mightily, the cracks of the blows ringing out in the room. How was that not hurting her? I checked my judgments. Cream had taken a lot of sexual partners. She surely had different tastes in bed. I didn’t like it rough. That’s why I had taken such care in vetting my potential customers. I didn’t even like doggy style.

  But seeing Andrew and Cream doing it, right in front of me, was incredibly erotic. The sight of them made me crave it. I realized I’d do doggy style if that’s what Andrew wanted—when the time came.

  I dragged my eyes from Cream and covered my mouth with my hand, stifling a gasp. Andrew was staring at me. How long had he known I was there, looking at them? I glanced back at Cream, but she was oblivious, screaming as he slammed into her.

  Andrew watched me, not slowing in his thrusting or his spanking. Cream’s ass was red from the blows.

  “Do you like what you see?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Cream shouted, her eyes squeezed shut. She probably didn’t even understand what he was saying, only responding to some question. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

  But he wasn’t talking to her. He was talking to me.

  “I want to hear you say it,” he said, raising his voice and spanking Cream even harder.

  This was exactly what had happened in the kitchen right now. He was twisting my own words back against me. I suddenly realized that he had wanted me to hear him fucking Cream, had wanted me to come down the hall to investigate, had left the door ajar for the sole purpose of tempting me into taking a peek.

  The string of revelations turned me cold, making any trace of arousal I’d felt vanish, blown away by a frigid breeze. Andrew was a much more formidable foe than I had realized. He knew exactly what game I’d been playing in the kitchen. And now he was playing me.

  It rocked me to my core and I backed away from the door, my eyes never leaving his.

  Playing with fire? No. I wasn’t. This was much more serious. This wasn’t a game.

  The onion and hot peppers had just started to smoke a little when I got back to the kitchen, but I was able to salvage most of them. I flipped the exhaust fan on, sucking away the burned smell and tendrils of smoke. My heart was racing as I cracked the eggs and whisked them in a bowl before pouring some into a second skillet and transferring some onions and hot peppers into the middle of the liquid. I willed myself to calm down as I spread some other spices into the omelet, then some cheese as the egg firmed up.

  Andrew had meant for me to see him fucking Cream like that. I couldn’t lie to myself about that. But maybe he’d intended it as a turn-on. Maybe he wanted to push me into making a decision to sleep with him sooner.

  I swallowed, flipping the omelet. It had been darker than that. Much darker than a simple game of seduction. I wasn’t vanilla about sex. I’d done—and seen—many, many different things at Mama’s nightclub, even after being so careful about vetting my customers.

  What Andrew had done wasn’t all in good fun. There was a warning behind it.

  You’re not in charge of this situation, it told me. Andrew Steele was in charge of this situation.

  He’d only been pretending that I had even a chance at being in control. He could take me whenever he wanted. That’s what he wanted me to know.

  “Morning,” Cream said, her voice hoarse. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” I asked innocently, turning the exhaust fan off. “Ooh, that thing is loud.”

  “Yum, omelets,” Cream said, forgetting about what she was saying. “These look awesome.”

  “Thanks,” I said, giving her the first one done. “Eat up, while it’s still hot.”

  “I’ll take it to the table, but I’ll wait for you and Andrew,” she said. “Want some juice?”

  “That’s my glass on the table,” I said. “Mind refreshing it?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Smells delicious in here,” Andrew said, coming into the kitchen. He was already dressed in his suit and shirt, tightening his tie. Looking at the scorched skillet, he gave me a half smile. “You didn’t burn breakfast, did you?”

  “Not the important part,” I said, sliding another omelet onto a plate and handing it to him. “I might’ve gotten a little distracted by other things while I was sautéing the onion and peppers.”

  “Oh, dear,” Andrew said mildly, his fingers brushing mine as he took the plate. “What could’ve possibly caused that?”

  “I’m a little absentminded sometimes,” I said, making my eyes meet his. His black eyes were tinged with curiosity. “Just one of many things you’ll get to know about me.”

  His lips quirked up in a smile and he took the plate to the table to join Cream.

  “Please, go ahead and eat,” I said over my shoulder. “It’s better hot. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  “If you insist,” Andrew said.

  What was I doing? Andrew was shaping up to be a man who wasn’t to be trifled with. Why did I continue to play this dangerous game—teasing him? He was clearly manipulative. I didn’t want to push him over the edge. We had to live with him, after all.

  But maybe—just maybe—I was making a stand. Maybe I was telling him that
I wasn’t going to be easily cowed. Back at Mama’s nightclub, Blue had been surprised at me for being courageous around the same time most girls would run screaming away from Mama, who was firmly entrenched in alcoholism. I’d been about as surprised as her.

  I didn’t think I had the spine for such things.

  I finished the final omelet and turned the burner off before going to join Andrew and Cream at the table.

  “This is spicy, girl,” Cream said, smacking me lightly on the butt. Andrew and I both flinched and glanced at each other as I sat down.

  “Spicy like me,” I said, holding Andrew’s gaze for longer than I was comfortable with. He was the one who looked away, which felt like a tiny victory to me.

  “It’s very good,” he said, putting a bite in his mouth and chewing. “I hope to get more and more tastes, in the future.”

  The innuendo didn’t slip past Cream. “She’s pretty juicy,” she said, winking. “Why, Andrew, I think I’ve had more of a taste of Pumpkin than you have.”

  “Oh, really?” he asked, raising his eyebrow. “If that’s true, I’ll be very jealous.”

  “We get pretty lonely here without you,” she said flirtatiously. “Would you blame us if we found comfort in each other?”

  Andrew relaxed, I was surprised to see, his shoulders sagging a little.

  “Not at all,” he said easily, draining his espresso. “I would be sad to miss it, though.”

  He left right at eight and Cream gave me a grin as soon as the security system beeped.

  “You should’ve been there, Pumpkin,” she crowed. “He’s never fucked me like he did this morning. Oh my God! I thought for sure that you’d hear us. It was all I could do to scream and hold on to the bed.”

  I had been there, but I didn’t feel like that was something I should share with Cream. Not until I understood what we were dealing with.

  “That’s nice,” I said.

  “Pumpkin, you belong in a nunnery,” she scoffed, helping me with the dishes. “I swear. How long has it been since you had an orgasm?”