Eros West

Hunted Hunter

Siena Barone’s POV

I thank the security guard with a big smile as he hands me the mask, and I continue on my way with them by my side. We didn't know we had to bring one, but according to what was explained to us, the guest of honor for the night wishes that everyone entering the club wear masks that cover half their face. I didn't ask more questions; I just accepted it because it's more fun that way.

We stop before actually entering the place. I help Mali put on her mask, noticing how tense she is.

"Relax, Mali... we're celebrating my birthday, not a funeral."

"You know very well I don't like these places, Siena," she says, and I roll my eyes.

"Not everything is about studying, little genius. Besides, we're with Dante; what could possibly go wrong?"

"I've come all the way from Italy for this night, Mali. Don't be a party pooper," says our protector, and she laughs. "I promised Dad I'd take care of you both tonight."

I nod, putting on my mask and looking at my cousin with a face that says, "Yeah, right. The most protective." He just came to have a great time. I won't deny that he takes care of us; he always has. But only the two of us know how he uses us as an excuse to come to New York and hang out with his American friends.

"Just promise me you won't get drunk, please... I don't want to deal with two drunks tonight," she pleads, and we both burst into laughter.

"When have you ever seen me drink alcohol, Mali?" I ask, holding her by the shoulders.

"Yes, yes, yes... I know you don't drink, you don't smoke, you don't do anything that might harm your perfect skin, but it's your birthday, and sometimes you do crazy things, Siena."

"Sometimes?" Dante interjects. "Why do you think Dad and Uncle sent me here?"

"And you were upset about taking care of us, weren't you?" she asks sarcastically. "Just promise me we'll stick together."

"We will, Mali."

"Sure, until you find someone to hook up with."

"Exactly," I show her a huge smile.

She huffs, and Dante takes her by the arm to enter the club, inviting her to relax a bit. Normally, Mali is very relaxed. She's fun, an excellent cook, intelligent, and much more grounded than I am, but she hates parties. Well, not parties; she hates going to clubs to dance. She doesn't like it; she simply doesn't feel comfortable in these places, unlike Dante, who loves to dance, go out at night with me, and together we drag her into these adventures.

Life is short, and she needs to have fun once in a while. Not everything is about studying. At least that's what my mom taught me. Unlike Mali, whose uncle Alessandro taught her to be a heartless b***h, but in her studies. She's as boring as he is but so smart and cunning that she sometimes gives me chills. With a face as delicate as my aunt Fio's, and the cold, blue demeanor of my uncle, Mali Ferreti is a force to be reckoned with. Sometimes I think she doesn't even have feelings, but then she looks at me with those blue eyes with sweetness, just like my aunt does, and proves that she does.

She looked at me that way today when I told her we were coming here. She even tried to blackmail me into not coming, but when she saw Dante show up at our apartment, she got motivated. I don't know what bug bit her that now she doesn't want to be here.

I thank the waiter for bringing Dante's order to the table while I dance in my seat. Even though I like to dance, go out, and celebrate, I don't drink alcohol. It's not that I haven't tried it; in fact, I tried it a few times in high school, but after discovering what it does to my body, I stopped drinking it. It may not seem like it, but I'm very delicate about caring for my skin, my hair, my entire body. To some girls at the university, I'm very superficial, and how could I not be?

Abundant blonde hair, golden eyes, white, soft, delicate skin, perfectionist with makeup, very flirtatious in dressing. I'm extremely feminine, quite refined, giving the impression that I'm the typical blonde, brainless girl.

But I'm not. The two people sitting in front of me know the danger I am.

Dante's friends don't take long to arrive. I know four of them, and I've slept with two, but that was in the past, so we're good. Mali cheers up a bit more since she feels comfortable with the newcomers. We've known them for a long time, so there's trust in the circle. In fact, she had a brief, secret relationship with one of them. Thank goodness it wasn't with the one I slept with. The thing is, it didn't work out because "Miss Perfection" drove the poor guy nuts.

"At least they ended up as good friends."

I scan the area looking for someone to be with. My eyes go to the VIP area, right where I saw when we entered the place. I always look at that area when I enter these types of clubs because that's where the big fish are. I look at him; he's looking at me.

"Bingo."

I quickly avert my gaze, pretending I didn't notice him staring at me. I continue my tour, admiring the whole place. It's my first time here; I've been wanting to come for months, but between final exams and my cat, I hadn't had the chance. Until tonight.

The music seeps into my system, and I move animatedly, enjoying the mix. I know he's watching me; I feel his predatory gaze on me, but too bad.

"He doesn't know I've seen him since I walked in."

The good thing about being blonde and having the face of an innocent young girl is that you can act like one in front of others, and when they least expect it, you sink your claws into their neck. It applies to everything, not just men. I've always used that to my advantage, which is why I enjoy it when they encounter the real Siena Barone.

It's fun to see their faces when they realize I'm not the typical air-headed blonde.

I may be flirtatious, look sweet, innocent, and even dumb, but I'm not. I'm a b***h, a very astute, audacious, savvy one when it comes to business, even though I haven't graduated yet. I'm very intelligent, and that's thanks to my parents. They pampered me in everything but taught me to use my brains. My father may think he has a saint for a daughter because I make him believe that, but he also knows that everything I know is partly thanks to him.

I keep dancing, enjoying the company. It's my birthday, and I already know which dessert I want to eat and which candle I want to blow out. That's why I play my cards; that's why I ask Dante to help me up onto the table.

He loves this, enjoys my craziness, whereas Mali, she just tries to get me down from the table, but the guys don't let her. I start moving my body to the rhythm of the electronic music, running my hands over my waist with elegance but at the same time being shameless. Dante just laughs, but woe to anyone who approaches me or says something. He tolerated the two I slept with because he found out months later, but that didn't save them from the beating he gave them for messing with one of his sisters. What he ignored was that his "sister" was the one who messed with them.

Subtly, as I turn around, I look towards where he is, and the smile on my lips is hard to hide. He's watching me; he hasn't stopped, which is why I don't stop dancing with the sensuality I'm using.

And so I continue, just to be myself the bait, just to test him and see how much he wants to approach.

Thinking it's enough, I extend my hand to Dante to help me down. Amid laughter, I enjoy a bit more with the guys until I consider it's time to play.

"I'll be right back," I whisper in Mali's ear.

She raises an eyebrow, shakes her head. She knows I've found someone, she's used to it, she just asks me to be careful and come back.

I approach Dante to whisper in his ear that I'm going for a walk and notice how his face changes.

"I'll give you an hour, Siena."

"It's my birthday, don't be like that."

"Do you know what my uncle Daemon and my father will do to me if something happens to you? If something happens to both of you?" I roll my eyes. "I'll give you an hour, and if you don't come back, I'll look for you, and we'll leave, understand?"

I nod, resigned.

"I'll be back before then, I promise."

His gaze is a clear warning to me. If I don't come back here with them in an hour, he will seriously look for me, and the celebration will be over for me.

When I'm not with Dante, I miss him, but when he comes to New York, I count the hours until he goes back to Italy. I didn't have any siblings, so I grew up with them as if they were my brothers. Since Dante is the oldest, I learned to see him as the brother I never had. He takes care of us, he really does, and he always has, but sometimes he's so demanding that I feel like choking him.

I know that when he comes here, he has the pressure from my dad and my uncle to take care of us, but damn! We're both adults; Mali isn't even a virgin, and I keep sleeping with whoever I want for fun and desire. Not with everyone, but with those I deem worthy of being with me. I don't have a long list of men crossed off in red, but let's say that, unlike Mali, I have quite a few more ahead.

"Not to say a lot."

I reach the dance floor and start moving with the same sensuality I was using on the table. I slide my hands over my body, aware that more than one wants to dance with me. But I don't want to dance with them; I want him to come to me. That's why I've moved closer to the bathroom area as much as I can without leaving the dance floor, because if he takes the bait, the bathrooms will witness our encounter.

I feel large hands grab my waist, and I take my time to turn around. When I lift my head to see if my plan has worked, I smile, satisfied.

"Eureka."

Men are so predictable, so easy to deceive, so easy to hunt. You just have to make them believe they have the power.

I don't stop dancing, rubbing against his muscular body with my hands on his chest, trying to look into his eyes. The darkness, along with the club's lights, prevents me from detailing his gaze, but I can deduce it's impassive and dangerous.

"Just what I like."

"Come with me," he whispers in my ear.

His thick, rough, and sexy voice gives me complete goosebumps. I feel very aroused; for some reason, I have the slight sensation that I already know his voice, but my libido is so high, my desire to be on top of him so strong, that I ignore that feeling and nod, biting my lower lip.

He intertwines his hand with mine, and the sigh I let out is only audible to me. His hand is so large that I can only imagine his fingers touching me.

Contrary to what I thought, the masked man, who seems like a giant compared to my petite stature, takes a path I don't know, leading us to a secret door that takes us out of the club and to the back of it.

I should refuse, but his size, his manly demeanor, all of him prevents me from doing so. I've been with men, but university students like me, never with a man as mature as him. It's clear he's not in his twenties, but he's not in his forties either, which makes me feel a tingle in my belly because tonight I'm going to sleep with a very sexy sugar daddy.

"When Mali finds out, she'll scream bloody murder."

I see the beach in front of us as we walk along the rocky path. I turn my head back and see the back of the club; I can even hear the bass a little. I realize that on either side there are palm trees, trees that act as a wall, but beyond that, there are no properties. At least not for about a hundred meters, which makes me understand that this area is private, exclusive to the club itself, and if you have access to this, it means I'm with the owner himself.

"Interesting."

I have an hour. Exactly one hour, Dante gave me, and I don't intend to waste it. Much less with such a monument in front of me.

I latch onto his lips with frenzy; he doesn't hesitate to lift me, and I waste no time wrapping my legs around his body. Next to him, I'm so small, which can confuse him even more. He's so big that the ease with which he holds me must be amusing to him.

"Better for me. Let him think that because I'm blonde and petite, I can't cut off his d**k if he crosses the line."

We're so engrossed in kissing that we've reached the edge of the beach. For someone in love, this would be beautiful; for someone like us who just wants casual s*x for one night, this is highly exciting.

There's no romance here, no desire to get to know each other. We both want one thing, and we won't stop until we get it. We both want to f**k, we want orgasms and moans. We want to pant with pleasure.

One of his hands lifts my dress, and when he touches my skin and realizes there's no underwear underneath, he growls but doesn't stop. His hand goes to my center, which he begins to touch with such ease due to how wet it is. I moan with my lips pressed to his, moving in search of friction, in search of feeling more. I don't know who the hell this man is, but the way he knows how to use his fingers blows my mind.

My moans become audible; I don't hold back. I moan with desire, shamelessly, with every intention of seducing him to f**k me from behind.

He lowers me from his muscular body; the heels of my boots touch the sandy ground while my accelerated breathing doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"Take off your clothes."

His order is direct. I clench my teeth, opting not to put him in his place. No one gives me orders like that, but my arousal is so high that I obey without protest.

"I didn't do all this for nothing, so it's better to make him believe he has control of the situation."

He starts undressing; I step back and do the same without breaking eye contact with him. The cold, fresh breeze doesn't affect me because my arousal is so intense that I don't mind getting naked on the beach. With sensuality, with delicacy, I strip off my dress until I'm completely naked. I don't take off my boots, just to add a bit more spice to this. As I am, I look like Catwoman.

My mouth waters at the sight of such size, thickness, and vigor. I lick my lips; my center throbs, but even so, I keep dancing for him, and when I see him start to masturbate, devouring me with his eyes through the mask, I get even more turned on.

I don't stop my dance because I need to distract him, make him easily fall into my game. I need to dazzle the man sitting on the lounger because my intention is that he doesn't question me. I may like sleeping with meticulously chosen strangers, but I don't give away what I've carefully saved for my wedding night.

"Yes, I'm a b***h who doesn't look like it, but I don't give my virginity to just anyone, no matter how delicious he is."

All men like to f**k women in the ass; none are exempt from that taste, that pleasure. And I know very well that the man who continues to masturbate while watching me is no exception, much less the rule.

"He's no different from the rest. If he were, he wouldn't have fallen into my game."

A few words exchanged, a strong thrust in my ass that takes my breath away. The closed fist grabbing my hair is the special touch that keeps me from stopping. He thinks he'll make me cry; he doesn't know what he's gotten into.

I ride his erect c**k as fast as he's pounding me. I open my mouth, moan with desire, and it's not for nothing. The man is a stallion, a complete alpha male willing to destroy me, but he won't. He won't be able to with me.

I see the anger in his eyes for not being able to break me, the rage mixed with lust for not making me scream. If he knew who he was dealing with, he'd think twice before treating me like he did at the beginning.

This time I'll let it slide because the f**k is worth it.

A second orgasm hits me, and I receive it like sheer glory. He continues pounding because he hasn't finished, but I don't complain; I keep grinding shamelessly. It's delicious to feel his enormous c**k entering and exiting my interior.

I take off the mask because it bothers me, because I want him to see my face, but as I throw it to the ground, he stops.

I smile, keep bouncing, but he doesn't continue, which makes me stop immediately.

"What's wrong?" I ask, confused.

"He looks like he's seen a ghost."

"Get up," he orders me harshly. I bring my hand to his cheek, but he immediately pushes it away. "Get up now, Siena! Get up, get dressed, and get out!"

"Siena? How does he know my name if I never told him?"

I rip off his damn mask in one swift move, and when I see his face, I freeze, not knowing what to do.

"Eros?" I question what's more than obvious.

"s**t, s**t, and more shit."

Stiff as I am, unable to move, he averts his gaze to avoid looking at me.

"Seriously?"

Eros West hardens his features, a clear sign that he's feeling the same as I am.

"I can't believe it... I can't believe it! Out of all the men available in the club, I set my eyes on the damn Eros West."

"I didn't..."

"Shut up and get up, Siena!"

"What the hell!"

"No one yells at me, asshole!" I shout and slap his cheek hard. "In my twenty-two years, no man has ever yelled at me! Not even when I crashed my father's Ferrari did they yell at me like you just did, i***t! I don't care that you're geriatric compared to me! That you're an older man! But you will respect me, Eros West!"

I get up, enraged, indignant, completely furious at his bitchy attitude. I grab my dress, the damn mask with my hands trembling from the anger I feel. One hour, one damn hour to f**k, and it went to hell!

I can't continue with my desire because I've been yelled at like a little girl. Because it was precisely him who did it. Just him, damn it!

"Ahhh!"

I turn around, finish pulling down my dress, and look at him, and my rage increases because I tried him, I liked him, and now I can't continue.

"I can't keep enjoying that freaking masterpiece! Damn it!”

“Get the hell out of here, Siena!” he yells at me, standing naked in front of me.

I open my mouth, walk straight to him, and slap him again, making my hand sting.

“Stop slapping me, you little brat!”

“Yell at me again, and it will be the last thing you do, Eros West,” I say, biting back.

His face stays turned to the side; I can see the veins in his neck standing out, his expression threatening. His nostrils are flaring, and his lips are a thin line. But I don’t back down.

“Listen to me, Siena…” he hisses, still looking sideways. “It’s the last time you’ll touch my face. Do it again, and…”

I slap him again. I do it with pleasure and intent.

“Or what?” I snap back.

His reaction is immediate. Like a wild animal, Eros grabs me by the shoulders with force, looking straight into my eyes. His dark, dangerous gaze is a mix of anger and desire. I should be furious, but no. I am highly aroused.

“What the hell is happening to me?!”

The tension between us is so high that we don’t need to speak; we communicate perfectly with our eyes.

And in this second, I throw reason aside, and so does he.

Eros attacks my lips with the same certainty that I cling to his neck. The kiss is addictive, and neither of us gives in. We both want control, we both want to dominate the other, but neither of us is willing to surrender.

“This isn’t right, Siena. If I keep going, I won’t be able to stop…” he warns.

“Can’t you handle a little brat?” I raise an eyebrow. “Or are you too old for more than one round?”

“We’ll see who’s too old right now,” he growls. “You’re going to pay for the three slaps you gave me, Siena.”

He grabs my neck with intent, attacks my mouth with such exciting brutality that I can’t stop him. The kiss is so damn pleasurable that, within seconds, I end up in the sand with my ass in the air for him, enjoying his thrusts, his forceful movements, and the smacks he lands on my skin.

It’s been a year since I last saw him. I didn’t think I’d run into him again. I have no plans of seeing him after this, so letting him screw me is not something I should worry about. At the end of the day, I’ll never see him again.

“I’ve got an hour, and I’m not wasting it for anything in the world.”