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

by Xavier Neal

  Not a ringing phone. Not work. Not even a goddamn zombie apocalypse.

  All of a sudden her panting passes the point of no return, the sound better than any country song ever created. “Coming...”

  I tug her body until it's flush with mine, the heat of her orgasm bathing my dick like a king being worshiped. She relentlessly presses her ass back, anxious to break me. My mouth falls to the crook of her neck where it stays as I surrender to her body's demand for me to come. The satisfied rumble to leave me is low and heavy, but still manages to ignite another climax out of the only woman in the world I know I'll never get enough of.

  Trust me. My dick agrees. There's no such thing as too much Rory.

  Before our breathing has a chance to calm, the door to her office flies open, and a voice squeaks. “Whoa! Nice ass.”

  Rather everyone see mine than hers.

  Abruptly I pull out but keep her body shielded as she pulls down her skirt. There's a tiny giggle with her greeting, “Hey Brian.”

  I fumble to get the condom in the trash can that's thankfully to the side of her and hustle to pull up my gym shorts to face the man who I may be slightly jealous of.

  She spends more time with him than me at times. I know it's for work, but how many relationships start at work? Did yours? Maybe you have a few friends who began that way? Hell, now that I think about it technically ours did.

  The slender blonde male staring back to me with blue eyes similar to Rory's beams brightly. He slides his hands into his black dress pants pockets. “It's polite to say thank you when someone pays you a compliment.”

  My jaw cracks open.

  And that's why she guaranteed I was worryin' for nothin'.

  Rory hides her snicker behind her hand.

  In the politest tone I can conjure, I question, “You couldn't knock?”

  “I don't have to knock. Open door policy,” he snips. “Besides, Rory rarely lets anyone in her sanctuary. Didn't expect her to have company.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I see a pink tint fill her cheeks. Curiosity coats my tone. “Is that true, Sugar?”

  She offers me a wide grin. “Yes. This is my space. I don't care to share it more than I have to.”

  But she let me in here. She let me have her here. She let me into a part of her life reserved just for her. Whether or not her lips can confess how she feels, simple shit like this does. Cuts down some of those loose strings blockin' my way to tyin' her to me the way she fears.

  “Putting it mildly,” Brian reenters the conversation. “She has an assistant, an adorable mousy thing I swear I pay to go on coffee runs more than anything else.”

  I shift my body closer to her as she answers, “When it's a two person task I call her. That's plenty. The only reason you even hired her to begin with is so you didn't have to touch the bodies.”

  He fakes a shudder in his pink button down shirt. “Don't remind me of the days...”

  Rory's body leans against mine. “Hunter Montgomery meet Brian Rose. Brian Rose meet Hunter.”

  “Pleasure.” He winks.

  Is he flirty or am I being paranoid?

  I clear my throat. “It's nice to finally meet you.”

  “Finally?” The puzzled sound in his tone lifts my eyebrows. “You're not just a bed filler then.” Without leaving room for a comment he hums, “Stating the obvious since she let you in here. Ah. Well. Rory had to get bit by the love bug eventually. Happens to all great women at some point. I wouldn't mind seeing more of you though.”

  Again....friendly or flirty?

  “Especially that ass.”

  Nevermind.

  Rory giggles and adds, “People pay to see it.”

  The joke punches me in the gut. “Ah hell! I gotta go!”

  “You late?”

  I grab my wallet off the counter and her underwear off the floor, shoving them both in my pocket. “Yeah. And the boss doesn't do late. Late is the difference between your balls danglin' where they belong or havin' to be surgically removed from your esophagus.”

  There's a wincing sound from both of them.

  You too?

  “What kinda man would do that to another man?” Brian tisks.

  “He wouldn't.”

  The implication my boss is a female returns his smile.

  I attempt to plant a warm, chaste kiss on my girlfriend's mouth when she grips the edge of my shirt to keep me in place. Like some sort of slave to her tongue, I cave, the fact I'm going to be within an inch of my life for it irrelevant.

  This woman is worth givin' the damn job up. Takin' a shit job waitin' tables again is at the very bottom of the list of shit I'd do to keep her.

  When she frees me, she coos, “I'll see you tonight?”

  “Tomorrow mornin'?”

  “Work. Sunday morning too. And then prep for a funeral on Monday.”

  I hold back my disappointment. “Monday night?”

  She gives me a nod and I attempt the short kiss again. This time I'm successful. Quickly, I rush past Brian with a brief goodbye, hustle through the funeral home, and jog down a few blocks and over a couple to The Castle.

  How pissed do you think French is gonna be? I've never been late before. I've heard rumors yet never been dumb enough to find out if they were true or not. She wouldn't actually make someone beg through the lobby on their knees to keep their job. Would she?

  The minute I'm inside the building Sebastian adjusts the gold bow tie required for him during business hours. “Sir.”

  “Hey...”

  “You're late, sir.”

  I grimace. “She know?”

  He gives me a sarcastic expression.

  After giving the wall clock a glance, I say, “Just a few minutes. She shouldn't be too mad, right?”

  He offers me a sympathetic smile. “Elevators are off, sir.”

  A groan of annoyance runs through me as I make my way to the stairs.

  Wouldn't be such a big fucking deal since you gotta take the stairs to the basement where the locker room is anyway, but I got new ropes in today, which are in Little Sami's office on the third floor. Samantha Potts is the creative director we coordinate with to make our larger performances fresh. Innovative. She also orders props for us. I.E. my new goddamn rope.

  I hastily grab it from her empty office and rush back down straight for the locker room where my fellow coworkers are in full show mode. Some are half dressed while others are completely naked.

  Everyone's show prep is different from the lotions they use to the make up they add. Ha. Don't look so surprised. The fantasy look of perfection isn't achieved without a few quirks.

  Just as I rush to open my locker, a naked Chance rounds the corner straight for me. “Oh! So you do still work here, bro.”

  I give him the finger.

  He laughs and leans against the one beside me.

  “Man, I know you don't mind lettin' your boys hang free-”

  “It's the way mother nature intended.”

  Dropping my rope at my feet, I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Could you make sure there's at least three feet between your dick and my thigh.”

  Chance sighs and takes a step back. “Bro, you're strangely uptight for a dude with a job that requires you to constantly be surrounded by other guy's cocks.”

  “Not uptight.” I pull my wallet out to place on my shelf, the underwear falling to the ground.

  He laughs, “Little lacier than normal. Don't know if pink's your color, bro.”

  “Fuck off.” With a quick snatch of them off the ground, I place them next to my wallet and keys. “They're my girlfriend's.”

  “Wearing your girlfriend's panties isn't better.”

  “They were a gift.”

  He helplessly smirks.

  “Not like that.” Frustrated I tear off my shirt and grouse, “Why are you fuckin' botherin' me? Don't you have hippie oil to rub on your dick or somethin'?”

  “Hemp oil,” Chance corrects. “And it's for my face. My dick i
s naturally flawless.”

  “Then your routine tonight better be equally as fucking perfect,” French corrects at the same time my shorts hit the ground. Her eyes zone in on me seconds before her heels click against the tile. Each step twists the trepidation lingering inside.

  She's gonna kill me. At least I know my girlfriend will take great care of my corpse.

  “Do you work here?”

  I don't bother replying the rhetorical question.

  “Because last time I checked I was in fucking charge.”

  My Adam's apple bobs.

  “You follow my rules. You show up when expected. You leave when you're dismissed. And you bust your ass with every breath you have until I tell you enough is enough. You work for me. This is my castle since you've seemed to have fucking forgotten.” Her ice cold stare rattling my bones. “If you are ever more than thirty two seconds late again I will charge you a thousand dollars for each additional second before ending your career on a very permanent basis. Am I making myself fucking clear or would you like me to have Samantha draw you up a fucking flow chart?”

  Barely audible I croak, “Clear.”

  Apologies don't mean shit to French. She often considers them pathetic. Her policy about them is straight forward. Don't waste her time or your breath. Simply do better.

  As expected the atmosphere in the room shifts, voices meekly trying to start conversations again while French makes her hurricane like exit.

  The back of my head hits my open locker door.

  Nothin' like getting' your ass handed to you with your dick hangin' out and shorts around your feet. I'm not gonna pretend it wasn't worth it. Because it was. Aside from the fact any time poundin' her perfect pussy is time well spent, she gave me the opportunity to get a glimpse of something no one else ever has. Can't put a price on your girlfriend finally lettin' you in. And now that she has, I'm willin' to do whatever it takes to stay there.

  Rory

  “I can't believe you actually made Halloween plans,” Mals sighs. “I'm impressed.”

  “Me too.”

  Trying this whole relationship thing has been for the most part easy. After allowing Hunter to see my place of business, the other doors naturally started to open. It helps he doesn't push back often. He just accepts what's given. While we're still spending most nights we're together at his place, I've began to compromise on the restaurants we dine at and we even went out to the movies for the first time. Don't give me that look! Of course I occasionally go with friends. I've just never had a boyfriend to do the 'typical' dinner and movie thing. It wasn't terrible. Helps they had fun seasonal foods we could try. Turns out there are hints of excitement to discover in the mundane, kinda like finding the prize in a cereal box.

  “God I wish I could stick around to meet him. You won't even let me see a picture of him?”

  Not sure if she remembers him or not, but definitely don't want anything to potentially ruin my happiness as far as our relationship is concerned. Wow. Look at me! Making changes. Scary but for some reason it doesn't seem that way with him.

  I sway the subject. “Whose party are you going to again?”

  She grunts. “Ugh. Erica's cocktail party.”

  “And Erica is who again?”

  “Monster-in-Law's best friends. It's Halloween for Christ's sake. It's a night for costumes and cock teasing, not Chardonnay and gossiping.”

  I try not to smile while I apply my eyeliner.

  “Trust me. Stay in the dating zone. As soon as you get a ring of any kind on your finger all the fun dies along with sex that lasts longer than twenty minutes.”

  See the other reasons why I've avoided relationships? It's like where happiness goes to die. And all my time is meant to be spent happy. The second I start experiencing what she's describing things will end. They just have too. Life is already too short without hating the person you spend it with or dreading the next day.

  “Speaking of suffering, are you going to bring him to the wedding? You know...if you decide to show up.”

  I turn my attention to her. “When I show up.”

  “Is that Victoria Charles committing to more plans?” Her dark eyebrows lift. “What is this mystery man doing to my best friend?”

  On a giggle I begin to put my makeup away.

  She'll probably more than flip out when she finds out it's the stripper we slept with together. Assuming she even remembers. Part of me believes she's either blocked it out or was black out drunk. We never spoke about it or why we were both naked the next morning. Come to think about it, this is the first time I'm even bringing Hunter around any of my friends. Huh. More growth. Little ties to him are less terrifying than I built them up to be.

  “Alright. I should get going before-” her voice stops short at the sound of her ringing phone filling my bedroom. She lets out a loud and annoyed sigh, “Oh look. She's calling. Just like I knew she would.” Mal shakes her head. “Worst. In-law. Ever.”

  My best friend answers the call, kisses my cheek, and disappears from my sight. Once all my makeup is in the drawers of my white dresser, I give my face one final look, and set out to finish the task of tidying my apartment.

  I'm not exactly the neatest. In my defense, I'm rarely here. Lately it's because I crash at Hunter's but in general I hate being home. I don't like to be alone. I've spent the majority of my life alone and now that I have the choice I choose to be surrounded by people whether they are dead or alive. Being alone reminds me of a time I keep buried far below six feet under.

  Within the next half an hour I manage to fix the sheets on my bed, make sure all laundry is in the laundry room, and put away the few dishes I used earlier. Afterward, I slide into the tight orange mini dress and black thigh high boots, I'm relieved when my phone begins to vibrate with a text from Hunter. I smile proudly at my impeccable timing as I grab my keys.

  Using the stairs that lead to outside the building like a normal apartment, rather than down to the funeral home, I try to hold back the overflowing bliss of seeing my boyfriend.

  Haven't seen him since Wednesday, which I never thought would be an issue, but it turns out I really miss him when we're apart. I actually miss having someone to make dinner plans with whether they're big or small. I actually miss not curling into him at night and getting the only decent sleep I've had since my parents died. Most importantly I miss him not making me come. Geez, it's like once you've had that, toys aren't even a suitable stand in.

  “Cowboy!” I exclaim and toss my arms around his neck for a hug.

  “Sugar,” he hums in my ear, the feeling of his muscles tensing around me, tempting me to blow off the party.

  It's been a long three days!

  He leans back to stare into my eyes for a moment. “Hell, I've missed you.” As soon as he's had his fill with his eyes, his mouth decides to have a turn taking me in. The moment our mouths connect, his tongue harshly punishes mine. Discontent for being gone too long, hell for ever leaving to begin with is coated in every roll. My hand anxiously clutches onto the collar of his shirt, the desperation to have more of him leaking out in a long, loud moan. There's a large growl as Hunter's palm skims down my ass and thigh until he's hiked my leg up.

  I'm totally fine fucking against his car in the evening light.

  His fingertips graze my pussy forcing his mouth to fall from mine. “No panties?”

  With a wicked smirk I whisper, “You mean no trophy?”

  He lightly chuckles and lets my leg back down while the sound of downtown begins to flood our ears again. Hunter readjusts his cock at the same time he says, “Damn Sugar, I'm hard enough to hunt fuckin' elk.

  His little country sayings are even more adorable when his accent is that thick. It always gets extremely heavy when he's horny. Pretty strong post sex too. He says he can't help it. He's just comfortable being who he is around me. Talk about the hottest and highest of compliments.

  “We can fix that right now,” I tempt, running my hand along the outline of his memb
er.

  Hunter's lips push together in a clear attempt to fight the urge. With a chaste kiss, he demands, “Come on, Sugar. Let's go pick up your friends.”

  I give him a playful pout as he opens the car door for me.

  “Don't worry, Rory. Those boots will spend plenty of time in the air tonight. I promise.”