The Hunt for Eros

by Hunt, Sam J. D.

  Thankfully, some chime rang and everyone made their way to the dining room, a massive formal space lined with tapestries and oil paintings. I was seated next to Edward, Elizabeth’s husband, with Ben several spaces away on the opposite side of the long, gleaming table. He didn’t seem pleased with the seating arrangement, but the place cards at each chair were a point of etiquette he didn’t dare breach. He was seated between Lord Hope and Elizabeth, who spent the entire long dinner giggling and rubbing his arm. Halfway through the main course, Edward finally turned to speak to me. “So you’re not with Ben there? Because he keeps looking at you like a crushing schoolboy.” I scoffed at the idea of Ben being smitten with me—the idea was crazy. “I’m not his type I’m sure…” I muttered, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks as Ben caught my eye again. Edward leaned in, his whiskey-soaked breath wafting toward me, and whispered in my ear, “My dear, you are exactly his type. Simple, innocent, and ignorant with something of extreme value to steal.” Before I could respond, Lord Hope asked me from the end of the table about the weather in Ohio. I did my best to answer coherently, still mulling over Edward’s harsh words in the back of my mind.

  After dinner, which seemed to take hours, Ben was able to return to my side to watch over me. In the corner of an ornate after-dinner room, Ben leaned in and asked me what Edward was filling my ear with at dinner. “Nothing,” I answered as coolly as I could manage. “He was drunk, and was muttering something about Elizabeth fawning over you.” Ben relaxed his grip on my arm and smiled. “He’s always been jealous of me. I assure you I have no interest these days in Elizabeth. I think it’s apparent to everyone here tonight that I can’t take my eyes off of you.” Allen approached again before I could catch my breath, offering yet more drinks. Between the Champagne before dinner, the constant change of wine with each course during dinner, and some liqueur served with coffee at dessert, and Ben’s unexpected flirtation, my head was already swimming as I sipped at the glass of sweet white wine. A glass of wine I should have refused, but drinking was new to me.

  Elizabeth approached just as Ben was pulling me closer, my tipsy body yielding easily as I melted into his side. The sensation of his arm around my waist was so intimate, so familiar, that the hair on the back of my neck stood up. As Elizabeth said something to get his attention, some inane comment about someplace in Portugal she had vacationed at, I felt the room spin. As I began to crumple, Ben’s strong arm supported me, his eyes darting from Elizabeth to me. “Jane, are you sick again?” he asked, his voice rising in alarm. I shook my head as I regained my balance. “No, no, I’m just not used to drinking so much wine. The truth is, I’m not used to drinking at all.” Elizabeth snickered, and her reproach came like a hiss through her teeth. “Do they not drink wine in America, Ben?”

  He ignored her completely, which fueled her disdain for me. “Elizabeth, I’m taking Jane up to bed. Do excuse us.” As he guided me toward the stairs, I could hear her parting warning to him, “Don’t forget our agreement.” He kept walking, as if he didn’t hear, pulling me even closer to his side.

  Chapter Eight.

  With his help, I managed to make it down the vast hallway to the door of my room. Standing at the partially opened door, Ben hovered in front of me, his eyes hooded with lust. “I’m…I just wanted to say…” His words trailed off as he pulled me closer to him, his arms around my waist. Leaning in slowly, he finished his pitch. “Do you need help getting into bed?” His question was tinged with sexuality; his request brazen. I was tempted, yes, but I had no intention of falling into bed with him. “No, but thank you for tonight. I felt like a princess.” He stooped down, his fingers lifting my chin so that our eyes met. “You’re beautiful, Jane. Smart, funny as hell, and very special. I just hope someday soon you realize it.” He leaned down and tentatively brushed his lips across mine—more of a swipe than a kiss, a testing of the waters. I instinctively responded, my lips pressing harder against his, slightly parting to allow the smallest tease of his tongue before I pulled away. I knew if I let the kiss go any further, I wouldn’t be able to refuse him. “Goodnight,” I breathed. With a longing sigh, he pressed his fingers to my lips as if to seal them before turning on his heel and retreating down the dark, cavernous hallway.

  To my relief, Molly had turned down the bed and a plush, cozy robe laid across it. I quickly wrapped up in the robe and slipped into the cozy bed, relieved that she’d been kind enough to leave me a carafe of water. The wine had left me dry and my head was fuzzy. I drifted off to sleep, still worried the entire evening had been a dream.

  I woke up an hour or so later thirsty—ridiculously thirsty, with my head pounding. I needed aspirin. I quickly drained the rest of the water in the carafe. The red wine had seriously dehydrated me and I craved more water, and I really needed something for my throbbing head. As I slipped from the bed, the thought hit me like a fresh revelation. He kissed me. For a moment, I doubted once again whether it had really happened. But it was real; it did happen. Ben kissed me—he actually wanted me. I secured the plush robe tightly around myself and carefully made my way down the dark hallway. I didn’t have any idea what time it was, or how I intended to find the kitchen, but my parched brain screamed for more water and I’d hoped the staff could hook me up with some painkillers. Just prior to entering the main entertaining area, I heard voices echoing from down below and decided to turn back. I wasn’t sure if it was considered tacky to wander around the elegant house in a robe or not. I could drink bathroom water, after all—it suited me fine at home, and the aspirin I’d have to skip. As my heel spun around on the cold stone floor, I heard it—a low but impassioned moan from below.

  The light was dim, but as I peeked around the corner I could see them. Elizabeth was on a round marble table, naked except for the long strand of ivory pearls dangling across her perfect breasts. The raven-haired woman from dinner, Avery Davis, sat in a chair, watching. She was fully clothed and sipping a glass of white wine. Her husband, Troy, was lying on the marble table underneath Elizabeth Hope—Elizabeth was on top of him, moaning as he thrust into her from below. Even more shocking, Elizabeth’s husband Edward was in a wooden side chair next to Avery Davis—he was naked and tied with a wide rope to the chair, his mouth gagged with some sort of cloth. Even from a distance, I could see the lust in his eyes as he struggled against the bindings, watching his wife fuck another man. I should go, I thought to myself—but my feet didn’t move. The whole scene was so decadent, so erotic, that I wanted to watch. Forgetting my headache, my right hand slipped into the gap in the robe and I began to slowly circle my throbbing clit with my index finger.

  I was enjoying the scene, I admit, until I saw him. He came swiftly around the corner, still dressed in the white vest and tie, his black dinner jacket removed. He leaned in and kissed Avery passionately, slowly caressing her right breast through her dress. My heart pounded and my stomach rumbled—I was sure I was going to be sick. It got worse—Ben walked over toward Edward and stood over him. Edward shook in the chair, nearly turning it over. Ben’s long fingers reached into a drink on the table next to Edward and fished out an ice cube. He dropped the ice cube on Edward’s crotch, but I couldn’t see where it rested. Elizabeth was moaning on the marble table, slowly riding Troy Davis. I could barely hear him speak; but what I did hear cut like a dagger into my heart.

  “Edward, ol’ chap, your wife is getting fucked by Troy there while you’re tied to a chair. She’s not going to let you come tonight—she told me earlier. Would you like to watch her get fucked by two men?” From her velvet chair, Avery took a long drink and answered, “I think he’d like that. I’d like to watch that, Ben.”

  Ben reached toward the gag that was muting Edward and ripped it down. “What do you want, Edward? Tell me, what do you want to watch me do to your wife?” Edward looked over longingly at Elizabeth, who had stilled and was waiting for instruction, from which man I wasn’t quite sure. “Fuck her, fuck her ass hard, make her scream.” Elizabeth stared at Edward with ho
oded eyes filled with lust and something more—a desire to hurt him, maybe.

  To my horror, Ben reached into his pocket and brought out a condom. He walked over and climbed up behind Elizabeth on the marble table. He unzipped his pants and reached into his fly, his right hand wrapped around his erect cock. It was the first time I’d seen it; the time I walked in on him with Verity I was behind them, looking through a crack in the door. Now, however, even in the dim light I could see his massive cock as he stroked it even larger. Elizabeth was watching him over her shoulder, her reptilian tongue swiping across her pursed lips. The idea of taking something that long and wide up there made me grimace. Nothing had ever entered by own virgin asshole—certainly not a penis, and Ben’s was the largest I’d ever seen.

  He rolled the condom over his erection in one swipe. Grasping Elizabeth’s ass, he seemed to pull it open as he thrust into her in one hard, sustained push. She screamed and tried to move forward on the table, but the man underneath her, still impaling her, held her steady, his hands grasping her hips. I couldn’t tell if she was in pleasure or pain, but I suspected both. As both men began to thrust mercilessly, her clouded eyes found her husband’s, and she watched him as she groaned. “Is this what you wanted Edward? To watch me get fucked in both holes, to sit there bound to a chair, helpless as a eunuch while your wife is debased? Well I fucking love it, Edward!”

  From the corner, I heard Avery moan. She had raised her dress up and was rubbing herself as she watched. Edward turned his gaze from his wife to Avery, his own neglected cock twitching and leaking with no hope of being satisfied. My own fingers, however, had stopped the second Ben entered the scene. The rational part of me said he wasn’t doing anything wrong, her husband wanted this, all parties were clearly involved in a consensual act. My heart, though, was jealous and hurt. It pained me to see Ben with someone else—I wanted him so badly it ached. I moved to leave, and as I did my bare foot slid on the slick floor, causing a noise. It was just enough to draw Ben’s attention to where I stood in the shadows above him. As his eyes met mine, he shocked me yet again—he gestured for me to come down, to join them. Horrified and shocked, I turned and ran back to the safety of my room. I’m no prude, but an orgy with two other couples in the middle of Hopetoun House was not how I’d envisioned my first time with Ben going.

  The tears stung my eyes by the time I finally made it to my guestroom and flung the door shut. I curled up into a ball under the heavy covers and cried into my pillow. My Mr. Darcy had disappointed me—he wasn’t the man I thought he was. More accurately, he wasn’t the man I’d dreamed him to be.

  Chapter Nine.

  I cried myself to sleep, still wrapped in the comforting robe. I dreamed I was in a boat, alone, stranded out on the cold, gray North Sea. Scotland was merely a tiny speck of green in the distance as I drifted further and further away. The boat continued to rock, a man’s hand on my shoulder suddenly. “Jane, wake up, baby,” the soft voice beckoned. Ben was in the boat; he was rocking me. As my eyes slowly flitted open, Ben was hovering over me in the near darkness. I slowly slid from the dream and realized that Ben was shaking me from the clutches of sleep. “Don’t you call me baby, you freaky…freak!” He chuckled, his grip on my shoulder softening. “I am a freaky freak, and I’m sorry I’ve shocked you once again. I wish you would have come down.” I shook him off, sitting up and pulling as far away from him as I could while still wrapped in the covers.

  He smiled again and sat uninvited on the edge of the bed. He was in the crisp white shirt from dinner, but he’d removed the tie and vest, his collar now open. Just at the first button of his shirt, his tanned chest revealed a faint dusting of light hair. The peek at his chest did things to me—irrational things. “I hope you washed your thing after being in that bitch’s pooper,” I spat out at him like a school playground taunt. He was amused, which infuriated and excited me at the same time. “The wonders of latex, my love,” he teased. “Don’t call me that either,” I pouted, still hurt but savoring his attention.

  “My obligation to Elizabeth is complete. We can retrieve the sculpture first thing in the morning and leave this horrid place.” His explanation to me sounded like he’d whored himself to the couple in order to gain access to the sculpture, which rightfully belonged to me in the first place, but it was very late and I could tell he was exhausted. The curtain of silence from him hinted that I wasn’t going to get either more contrition or further explanation that night. I wiped at my eyes with the arm of the robe, aware that I was covered in dried, smudged mascara from crying. “I am sorry that you had to see that, and that it upset you,” he said gently, his hand reaching out to me but settling instead for a space in between us on the crisp covers.

  “Feel free to strike me, but I have a favor to ask, quite cheeky of me, really…”

  “Spill it, Hunt,” I said curtly, cutting through his English-dialect bullshit.

  “Might I sleep here, on the sofa over there, of course. I know you despise me right now.”

  “What’s wrong with your room?” I asked, the request taking me by surprise.

  “Er…Ah…It’s occupied, I’m afraid, and to ask the staff to prepare another room will cause gossip.”

  “Her Bitchiness Elizabeth?” I asked, jealousy turning my tone acrid.

  “No, thankfully. Troy and Avery Davis joined me in my room for a nightcap, and well, Avery has proven…difficult to dislodge.”

  I tossed a small pillow at him, aiming for his face but landing it mid-chest. “I’ve seen enough of your sex-capades, I don’t need to hear this,” I said, yawning. I tapped the pillow on the side of the bed where he was sitting, and added more softly, “Sleep there, but don’t touch me.” He stood up and removed his shirt, causing my heart to skip a beat at the sight of his naked chest. Even in the dim light, I could see the hard ripple of well-worked muscles. Museum job or not, the man worked out, and the deep V around his abs made me salivate. He took off his shoes and socks slowly, and with a wicked grin unzipped the black pants. His eyes were on mine, as if daring me to look away. I didn’t, although if he’d dropped the underwear, too, I would have been all over him. He didn’t, climbing in next to me in his designer undies. I turned over, away from him. “You’re an angel, love,” his whispered, his hand chastely on my back. “Don’t call me that, and no touching,” I answered, my mouth turned upward at the corners in a secret, satisfied grin. I should have been angry, I suppose, but I was elated to be sleeping in the same bed as Ben Hunt.

  Chapter Ten.

  I woke up slowly, like a caterpillar shedding a cocoon. My head was still foggy; my brain full of cotton, but I wasn’t sick. I was, however, wrapped around Ben. He was still lying on his side of the bed, flat on his back, and I was on top of him, as if holding on for dear life. My right hand was wrapped around his bicep, my left palm splayed across his right hip. My cheek was lying on his hard chest, and based on the slight pool of drool that formed there, it seemed I’d slept quite soundly. My legs were wrapped in between his solid ones, clinging to him like a monkey. The worst part, or possibly the best part, was that his bulging morning erection was pressing into my tummy, taunting me. I slowly rolled off, hoping to not wake him, but when I dared to glance up at his face, his blue eyes were very open. His pink lips curled into a knowing grin.

  “Don’t go on my account,” he teased.

  “It’s…I just…it happened in my sleep! Doesn’t mean anything.”

  “I suppose not. However, moaning my name in your dreams is interesting, yes?”

  “I did not!” Did I?

  His topaz eyes danced; he loved every minute of my shame. “As much as I’d love to continue to provoke that tantalizing blush of yours, we need to go. Elizabeth promised to allow us into The Yellow Room before breakfast. I’m going to shower and pack, can you meet me outside of The Yellow Room, ready to go, before nine? Leave your bags here, the staff will load them in the car.” I nodded, my cheeks burning in embarrassment. He quickly slipped on his pants and g
rabbed the rest of his clothes and left the room—barefoot, shirtless, and sexy as fuck.

  He was standing outside The Yellow Room with Elizabeth when I arrived. She was clinging to his arm and giggling again—that fake, high-pitched, you’re the funniest man in the world type laugh. His face was lit up by a wide, excited smile. “Jane,” he cooed as Elizabeth grasped harder at his arm, “I hope I didn’t cause you to lose too much sleep last night?” Before I could answer, he gestured toward the locked door. “Elizabeth, enough childish antics, let us into this room now.” She pulled a large key from her pocket as Ben removed her arm from his.

  As the door swung open, Elizabeth gestured for us to enter first. “Be my guests,” she muttered unconvincingly. Before I could even look into the room, Ben exclaimed, “It’s not here!” There was a large walnut table surrounded by bookcases, just like the picture Uncle Stuart left, but sure enough, there was no sculpture on the desk or anywhere else in the room. “What the bloody hell are you trying to pull, Lizzie?” Ben snapped, losing his normal manners and reserve. She blanched and stammered, “I—I don’t know. It was here when I locked the door! This is the only key we have to the room. It’s been with me the entire time, I even wore it in my bra to dinner. Please, Ben, I swear…” Ben began to nervously pace the perimeter of the room, checking to ensure that the windows were locked. “Where was the key while you were serving yourself up on the marble table downstairs last night? Because the only thing I saw you wearing was a long string of pearls and two horny men,” I asked, my tone more acidic than I’d meant it to be. “Jane, could we not…” Ben scolded gently, before adding, “but she does have a point, darling. Where was the key then?” I grimaced at the term darling as she began to explain. “Er…I slipped the key into my shoe, it was there in the receiving room the entire time. The key was still in my shoe afterward.”