Owned By The Billionaire Devil

Chapter 11

For a moment, my mind went blank, wiped clean by the feel of his mouth on mine, and the firm pressure of his hands holding me against him. For a few stolen, terrifying seconds, I forgot the man I was supposed to marry was on the other side of the door.

Then reality crashed back in when a knock sounded on the door. This time, it wasn’t a polite knock, it was Alistair’s impatient fist hammering against the wood. "Hunter! Open this damn door. Now."

The kiss broke. Hunter pulled back just enough to look at me, but he didn’t put me down.

"Your choice," he murmured, his rough voice brushing against my swollen lips. "Do you want him to find us like this? Because I've got no problem with that."

My eyes widened in panic. Was he insane?

Seeing my reaction, a dark smirk touched his mouth. Then he was moving.

In three silent strides, he carried me across the room. Instead of hiding me, he set me down in the center of the large, rumpled bed. I scrambled to get up, to dive behind the heavy curtains.

"What are you doing? If he comes in, he'll see me!" I hissed, panic making my voice thin.

He caught my wrist, and pulled me back down to sit on the bed. He held my gaze, a strange calm in his eyes as he brought a single finger to my lips. The message in that gesture was clear; ‘Wait for me.'

Then he turned and walked toward the door, leaving me in the room, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Christ, what kind of mess had I gotten myself into?

I held my breath as I heard the door open.

"What?" Hunter asked, sounding bored and annoyed. I could picture him leaning against the doorframe, shirt still hanging open.

“Why did you take so long?” Alistair said, his voice tense, like he was trying hard to stay calm.

"Busy."

A beat of tense silence followed. I could feel Alistair’s gaze trying to pierce the dim room behind his brother.

"Have you seen Maisie?" Alistair asked.

My blood turned to ice. I pressed myself back against the headboard, trying to make myself small.

"Maisie?" Hunter repeated, sounding genuinely disinterested. "Your fiancée? Can’t say I have. Maybe she got tired of waiting for you. Again."

His words landed hard, filled with a strange, old familiarity.

I heard Alistair take a sharp, controlled breath. "Is she in here?" he asked, his voice much closer now.

He was trying to look past Hunter.

"Feel free to search," Hunter said, his tone shifting into something lighter, yet infinitely more dangerous. "But if you touch anything of mine, I’ll break your fingers."

The threat filled the air awkwardly. It wasn’t bluster. It was a promise, and from the heavy silence that followed, Alistair believed it.

He made a quiet, frustrated sound. Then the door closed hard — not slammed, but shut with clear anger.

For a second, there was only the sound of my own ragged breathing. Was he gone?

Before I could move, Hunter reappeared. He didn’t say anything. He just stood in front of me, his eyes slowly dropping to my mouth.

"The color on your lips is gone," he observed quietly. "Makes me want to put it back. And then ruin it all over again."

His thumb found my cheekbone stroking it, but I quickly slapped his hand away.

"You shouldn't be doing this. I'm your brother's fiancée. We're… we’re getting married soon," I said, stuttering slightly.

He didn't seem to hear them. He leaned closer, his intent clear, but I was faster, turning my face away.

He laughed softly, a dark sound that sent a shiver through me. “Not your thing?” he asked casually, like we were discussing a preference in wine.

"Seriously?" I spat, angrily. "Why would it be? Why would anyone like being manhandled by their fiancé's twin brother? Is this how you-"

"Be mine then." He said it instead, cutting me off.

The words were so sudden they stole the air from my lungs, leaving me utterly speechless.

"You..."

"It's a sweet deal," he interrupted again, his voice dropping to that intimate, dangerous whisper. He tilted my chin up with one of his fingers and I saw his eyes dropped to my lips again. And then he kissed me.

This wasn't like the first kiss. This was deep, consuming, and utterly skillful. I bit on his lips and shoved at his shoulder, but he didn’t pull back. Instead, his tongue swept into my mouth, and a helpless moan vibrated in my throat despite my protest. He swallowed the sound, his hands moving from my face, the other sliding down my side, over my hip, to my thigh.

He broke from my lips, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of my neck. His hand slid higher, under the hem of my dress, branding my skin.

"Wait… Hunter..." His name escaped me, in a breathy plea.

He pulled back to look at me, his eyes gleaming in the slightly dim room, "Relax," he whispered. "You're going to like it."

Before I could respond, he kissed me again, fierce and demanding, and something inside me broke. A dam of resistance gave way, flooded by a wave of need so intense it was shameful. My hands, which had been pushing at his shoulders, slid up to clutch at the back of his neck. I was kissing him back, my tongue tangling with his, my body arching into his touch against my will.

He gently guided my back onto the bed and followed me down. His lips never left mine, his kiss turning slower and deeper. His hands began a devastating exploration— cupping my breast through the fabric, his thumb circling a peak that hardened instantly, then sliding down to my waist, my hip, my inner thigh.

Everywhere he touched, my skin burned. A low, aching throb started deep in my core. I was wet, embarrassingly, desperately wet, my panties soaked through.

He kissed his way to my ear. "so responsive," he breathed in approval. His fingers found the damp lace between my legs and pressed.

A soft cry started to escape my throat, but his lips covered mine before the sound could come out.

He didn't hesitate. His fingers hooked into the side of my panties and ripped them down and off. The cool air hit my bare skin, followed instantly by the scorching heat of his hand.

"W–wait—"

He found my c**t with unerring accuracy, circling the swollen bud with a firm, slick pressure that made my vision blur. My hips bucked off the bed of their own accord, seeking more. I was shamelessly open for him, utterly exposed, and I strangely didn't care. My hands fisted in his hair, holding him to me as he kissed along my jaw, down my neck.

Just as his fingers slid lower, teasing my entrance, preparing to push inside; my phone rang, shrill and insistent beside me.

He didn't stop. His finger slid an inch inside, and I choked on a gasp.

"Pick it up," he ordered, his voice guttural against my skin.

Blindly, I fumbled for the phone to find Alistair on my screen.

I answered, in a shaky whisper. "Hey..."

Hunter chose that moment to drag his tongue over a particularly sensitive spot on my neck. A full-body shudder wracked me.

"Where are you? I've searched everywhere." Alistair's voice was tight with annoyance.

"I..."

Hunter's finger pushed a little deeper, curling inside me. A strangled moan ripped from my throat.

"Ummm!"

"Maisie? What's wrong?"

"I... I'll be there," I panted, squeezing my eyes shut as Hunter added a second finger, stretching me, filling me. "Just... a cramp. A bad… a bad one."

"Where are you? I'll come..."

"End the call," Hunter growled softly, his mouth back on mine, swallowing my cries.

My thumb found the screen and ended the call. I threw the phone aside, my last tether to sanity gone.