Chapter 4

I stop my car in the café parking lot and get out. I look around until I find Hunter leaning on a red motorcycle, phone in hand. When I get close enough, I realize that there’s a green, egg-shaped seat attached to his bike.

I whistle. “It’s a sidecar.” I have never seen one in real life. Only in a couple of old movies. The bike is sturdier than I thought, and bigger, while the seat is quite small and uncomfortable looking.

“Let’s go,” he rumbles, disregarding my interest.

“O-kay,” I say… to his back. He enters the café, pausing to hold the door for me, and then moves to the counter.

The barista straightens from his relaxed position. His scrutinizing eyes go from Hunter’s serious expression to smiling, approachable me. He decides I’m a better target and undresses me with a dirty look in the few seconds it takes to reach him.

“Hey, Noah,” I greet him, placing my tumbler in front of him. Lori had a quickie with him a few months ago. He’s good-looking with his dark, mussed hair, golden skin, and smiling blue eyes.

“Hey, Remil, nice trim work.” He points at my shaved cheeks while butchering my name. No barista gets it right. “The usual?” His tone is flirty and very interested, though. A week ago, I”d have fucked him in the employee room. But right now, all I want is the dark giant standing rigidly next to me.

But I’m still my coquettish self. “Yes, what an amazing memory you have.” I dip my sugary voice in sweet glaze.

“Well, when you come here, it is not easy to forget.” His pierced tongue comes out for a second when he licks the corner of his mouth. He’s such a tease. It doesn’t do much for me, but I start wondering if my grizzly has any hidden piercings. That would make my brain implode.

“The service is very good.” I wink at Noah, enjoying the sight of Hunter’s jaw clenching in the corner of my eye. He doesn’t seem impressed. He’s bear-y handsome, but he certainly isn’t the only one. Although, my cock seems to point at him like a compass to north every time he’s around.

“I have been praised for my…servicing by quite a few people before, Remil,” he drawls. Lori did say that Noah has a black hole throat—whatever that means.

I open my mouth to flirt back when Hunter cuts in, spelling my name to Noah. “It’s R-a-m-i-e-l. Hurry up and add a double latte to the order.” His low and dark tone makes it sound more like a threat than a drink order. And the vicious, deep growl at the end forces Noah to jerk back while I feel a shiver right down to my balls.

“Sure. Separate bills?” the barista asks me, seemly deciding to ignore Hunter.

“Nope, my treat.” I slide my credit card out of my wallet. “Can you add a couple of bear claws as well?” I feel Hunter’s stern expression on me, letting me know he got my pun. I place my platinum card on the POS terminal until the payment goes through.

Noah slides a tray with our orders toward me. “See you soon, Ramiel.” His suggestive tone paints a very clear picture of what he’d like to do next time we meet. I wink at him, enjoying the rough way Hunter yanks the tray and turns away. Broody, sexy bear.

The café is almost empty at this time in the evening. We can sit anywhere, but Hunter chooses the table in the corner—the furthest away from the cashier.

My chair has my back to the counter. “Stop glowering at the barista like you wish you could incinerate him. You already showed him who’s the baddest grizzly in here!”

Hunter grunts and turns his murderous glare to me. Better than being ignored, I guess.

His eyes fall on my tumbler as I take a sip from it, specifically on the sticker that says, Dark Coffee to Match My Soul. I think I see his lips tilt up for a half second, that or the fumes coming from the coffee are giving me hallucinations.

Hunter shrugs out of his jacket and slings it over the back of his chair, putting on display his glorious hard chest, soft belly, and gun holster. “Talk.” He grabs one of the bear claws and tears it in half with his sharp, white teeth. Wish he dug those into my skin.

His commanding tone should annoy me, but instead, it makes me horny as fuck. My cock is seriously interested, but it”s never been very picky. The last big guy who topped me was a shithead, who turned into a donor and was killed by Uri after Rague tortured him. Not that I cared, he hurt Sully, so he deserved all the pain he got, but he had a decent cock.

Hunter, from what I remember feeling against my belly, must be hung like a damn horse.

I start talking. “Today, the forecast predicted a chance of rain, but the sun almost burned my pupils. How do they?—”

“What?”

“You said talk. I’m talking, Grizzly,” I sassily reply.

“Tell me what you know, Ramiel, or I’m out of here,” he impatiently says. I like to hear my name in his gravelly voice.

I also don’t want him to leave, so I offer, “I know more than your name, Hunter Penn.”

He throws the rest of his pastry on the plate. “So game developer is only a facade?”

“No, it’s my job. The cyber researcher part is more of a hobby.” I wave my hand, and his gaze goes to my fingerless gloves.

“Cyber researcher? You’re a hacker who fights like a pro and kidnaps hitmen in his spare time.” He takes a cautious sip from his cup, never taking his eyes away from me. Those juicy lips close around the brim and his Adam’s apple bobs as he lets the liquid pour down his throat.

His large mouth is accentuated by the light brush of stubble over his rugged jaw. But his eyes are his most prominent feature. I have a feeling that I could dive inside those deep pools and never come up for air.

“You made Marcus talk, and he told you about his brother’s line of work. Impressive. But you didn’t kill him.” I checked. But he did kill the mercenary who attacked him. He broke his neck. A fast, almost painless way to die.

“There’s still time,” he growls. “This Malcom, is he connected to the Bakers and my attacks?”

“You said you were attacked four times. One with Marcus and August and their friends and one with the mercenaries makes two. When were the others?”

He blows out a long breath but doesn’t reply.

“Hunter, I get that you’re skeptical.” When he raises a questioning eyebrow at me, I keep going. “I told you I know about you and your past.”

“Really? And it’s an ordinary occurrence for you to be seen with a murderer.” His tone is flat, his eyes have turned stony.

I don’t fucking like that, I want his serious, angry look back. “Yes, actually, a daily occurrence.” I can see he thinks I’m joking. But I’m being honest here. I’m a killer like the rest of my family. But it doesn”t seem to work, so I try a different approach. “You paid for your crime. You were sent to prison and released early for good behavior.”

“The fact that you can get inside databases and read police reports or find old newspaper articles doesn’t mean you can get to the truth of a matter. But only to the half-truths that float on the surface.” His heated speech hits me right in the gut. Because finding him guilty is what is wrong with our society. It was just a way for the police department, together with the judicial system, to show to the public that policemen too have to follow the law. Even though what Hunter did was fucking justified, he was made the example. A fucking pawn.

I can see he’s close to standing up and leaving, so I add, “You’re right, the truth comes only by talking to a person and observing them and listening to them. That’s what I’m doing.” I load my words with sincerity.

His gaze sharpens on me. I could very much do this by myself, I don’t need help. But after reading about Hunter’s past? I feel like there’s something about him, and I’m not talking about his dick. Although at first, it was the only reason I looked into him because, duh, he’s a fucking vision. But he’s good at what he does. We could work well together. His physical appearance is more like an incentive now.

So, I tell him, “August Baker was a hitman, and the next person on his list was Malcom Bindy.”

“Was?”

He saw me kill the mercenary, I don’t need to put into words what I did to August.

“Did he tell you that?” he asks.

“Would you believe me if I said I tickled his feet till he confessed?” Maybe he felt a tingle when I cut one off.

“Did you pop one of those pills from Malcom’s?” Is he teasing me now? So, he does have a light side to him.

I smirk. “I have my methods. Like you have yours, Grizzly.” The way he worked Marcus Baker to get information is impressive. Just like the rest of him. I slowly blink and slide my eyes over his wide chest. I want to open the rest of the Henley’s buttons and see more of his skin.

“I do shake people to get information.” He runs his hand over his shaved head, displaying his huge bicep and mountainous pec. If this is his idea of flirting, he’s damn good at it.

“I bet,” I cough into my fist. I wish he’d shake me. Too many wishes lately. “Tell me about the attacks.”

“A car tried to run my bike off the road and into a pile of wooden planks. Thirty minutes later I’m pretty sure I saw that same car driving away after I got shot at,” he calmly says, fumbling with his bracelet.

“When did that happen? Where? Did you see their faces?” I ply him with questions, even though I know Hunter is a skilled investigator who’s been through worse.

“Three nights ago. On the way to St. Benedict Cemetery. The shooting inside the cemetery. No, but I got a partial plate.”

“A cemetery at night? Kinky.” I wink at him. I want to ask him what he was doing there, but seeing how hard it was to make him talk, I’ll get an answer faster if I dig myself. I tap my bracelet to put my AI on speaker. “Serena, I want visual on St. Benedict Cemetery three nights ago.” I instruct Hunter, “Tell her what street you were driving on, at what time, what cemetery entrance, and the partial plate.”

“I have someone working on it already,” Hunter replies.

Since he’s been a P.I. for two years, he must have some techie. “Serena is better, right, darling?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she answers.

Grizzly must see the wince on my face because he says, “Not into daddy kinks.”

“Are you taking notes for later?” I pucker my lips, and his eyes fall there.

He grunts unfathomably and then gives Serena the information she needs.

When he’s done, he asks, “Why does she call you Daddy?”

“A petty, vengeful brother-in-law and the fact that I created her may have something to do with it,” I let him know.

“Can’t you simply make her stop?”

“I could. But I won’t. Serena is my baby, I don’t like to screw with her brain.” Which may sound stupid to most people since she’s an AI, but she is unique and perfect as she is. “Also, the easy way out is boring. I’m sure I can convince her to stop calling me that somehow.”

“The first time I saw you, I thought you were a bum. Never would’ve taken you for a tech genius.” He gives me that soul-deep stare of his.

“Well, we can’t judge a book by its cover, can we?”

Hunter scratches the light stubble on his cheek and then strokes his chin with his index finger. I can hear the sound of the coarse hair being rubbed and can’t stop imaging what it would feel like between my thighs.

The crackle of something bursts in the air between us. I lick my lower lip, then sink my teeth slowly into it, satisfied to see his eyes darkening.

“What’s your next move?” He’s trying to ignore the current flowing between us. Why? No quickies with work partners?

“While Serena works her magic, I’m going to meet one of my informants tomorrow. I contacted him on my way here. He has a connection to a big organization and can maybe shed some light on the hitman front.” I stand up and take a step toward him, placing my hand on the table and leaning slightly over him.

“We are going to meet him,” he corrects me, sliding his eyes over my chest and further down.

Hook. Bait. Bite. “See something you like?” I use my fuck-me tone, the one that gets me cock every time.

His jaw clenches, and then he slowly leaves his chair and straightens up. My head tips up to keep eye contact while he tilts his down to peer into my face. He must be six-foot-five since he’s almost looming over me and have at least sixty pounds on my two hundred. I feel small, and I fucking love it.

“Come on, after what happened you deserve some…enjoyment.” I feel like the tempting Devil—sans the scales, the slithering tail, and the apple. Well, I’m the apple and the Devil. Can I be both?

“I took my enjoyment while fighting,” he growls, but I can see something growing…in his jeans.

“Why not take more?” I press my tongue to my inner cheek and then push against it, showing him clearly where he could take it from.

He steps closer, and his already deep voice drops another octave. “You want to be used? To be my fuck hole, Ramiel?”

My cock instantly stiffens. A dirty talker. Am I dreaming? “I fucking count on it, Hunter Bear.”

He lets out what I can only describe as a low, rumbly roar. Then he grabs my shirtfront and drags me out, using my body very unceremoniously to open the back door.

“You really like silent, narrow back alleys,” I joke as he pulls me abruptly against his chest and turns me around so his back is pressed to the wall. He feels hard everywhere, and I moan as my brain starts bombarding me with different sensations.

His hand lets go of my shirt and moves to my shoulder, exerting warm, firm pressure until I start going down to my knees. His eyes don’t leave mine as he unbuttons his jeans with deft fingers.

Big hands. Long fingers. I want to suck on them, slick them thoroughly, and then let them stuff me full.

“I’m a big motherfucker,” he says gruffly. And I know he isn’t talking about his body size.

“Show me,” I challenge him. I think I see a hint of appreciation in his gaze at my dauntless statement.

Even though the unforgiving ground under my knees is painfully hard and he’s towering above me, I feel good. I like to let go from time to time. And let my hookups have control.

He finally pushes his jeans down and…no underwear. Fuck! I find myself face to face with his long, very, very, very thick, dripping, porn-worthy, Black dick. The head points slightly to the left, and there’s a long vein running along the side.

I nuzzle it, pushing my nose deeper, while taking a big breath. Earthy, rich, soapy…so good. This dick is my damn Everest.

I feel those dark eyes on me, daring me, and I can’t resist. I lick his length from base to tip, savoring his salty, sharp taste on my tongue. His low groan travels all the way to my balls as I move back to see my work. My saliva looks so damn good on his cock.

“Mmm, delicious.” I smirk at him.

“Do you need instructions?” he taunts me, the impatience in his voice is clear. But I don’t care, because his voice has one-way access to my cock—the dirty road kind of access.

“You’ll dream of this mouth, Grizzly. And beg for more.”

“The only one salivating here is you,” he retorts. Am I? Before I can actually check, he says in an almost bored tone, “Less drooling more sucking.” And crosses his bulging arms over his chest. Daring me again.

My eyes go back to the stiff black mamba between his legs. And those big, heavy balls. I want a mouthful of them.

Seeing my gloves, I take them off hurriedly, and my fingers wrap around the smooth, hard length, giving it a couple of pumps. His thickness would stretch me so fucking good. My hole clenches at the thought.

I hazard a look at his face. His arms are still crossed, eyes zeroed in on me, big chest rising and falling faster than usual. Unfortunately, his belly isn’t on display for me to perv on, buthe has a delicious happy trail peeking from under his sweater, traveling down to the base of his dick.

“Your cock is spank bank material,” I feel the need to tell him.

He grunts and suddenly grips the back of my head and pushes me toward it—guess I made him wait long enough. The head spears my mouth, and I open big. Fuck, his pre-cum’s taste. I love cock flavor. And his is spectacular, salty, musky, and warm on my tongue.

I moan all my enjoyment, probably too loudly, but his hardness, weight, smoothness, and warmth all at once? It’s so damn indescribable. I want this cock to live in my mouth. I can be his cock warmer, his twig and berries cover, his dick mitten…doesn’t really matter at the moment.

I suck hard and take more of him. My mouth stretches to the maximum as he fists my hair and gives small, weak thrusts. The obscene slurping sound in the empty alley combined with the filthy sounds escaping from my mouth seem to encourage him.

“You like to suck cocks? You are fucking moaning for it. Can you take more?” he grunts.

I nod. Every goddamn part of me is alive, rising higher to the surface, pushing the numbness deep down.

I take it until I gag and push back. Then let it slide inside again, deeper. My hand is still jerking the base since he’s so fucking huge. Perfect.

Grizzly starts giving me orders with that deep, demanding voice of his. Suck harder. Relax your throat. Use more tongue. Give me some teeth. Pull on my balls.

“Fuck, you’re sucking it like a starved slut.” As long as this man is making me feel…he can call me whatever he wants—but not daddy!

I hum and grab his heavy balls in my hand and massage them while I slide a hand in my pants, wrap it around my aching dick, and start jerking off.

I fucking love this.

“Gonna really fuck your face now,” Hunter warns me a moment before he grabs my head on both sides and begins to work my mouth. The short, fast pumps turn into strong thrusts.

I just open my sore throat and flatten my tongue, stroking the underside of his cock with it.

Hunter is holding me still and face fucking me like I’m nothing but an object, a toy. And I like it. A lot more than I imagined. My raging boner is proof enough of that. After all of my taunting and flirting, I thought I knew what to expect. But this is so much more.

I pump my hand around my cock, giving in to the blazing arousal coursing through my body as he makes me bob up and down, pulling me almost all the way off before sinking down as deep as I can go. And he can get very deep with me.

The amazing smell of him mixed with my saliva affects me more than I want to admit.

“You like to be used like a cocksleeve? Huh?” His dark tone is a bit out of breath. “I bet that cunt is wet and ready to cream on your fingers.”

Say what?I totally get off on humiliation and degradationin all its variations, but having my hole called a cunt is new.

“I bet you’ve got a greedy pussy hiding down there, tight and hot.” He growls, and his mouth-ramming quickens. “Needs to be fed some thick, Black cock.”

Hot. Damn.

I’m a masculine bottom, and most guys I’ve been with just call it a hole or a fuck hole. But when Hunter calls it a pussy, my eyes cross and lust like I’ve never felt before overwhelms me.

“This mouth is going to wreck me.Fuck! Squeeze that throat. Mmm.” His words keep throwing fuel on my fire.

He tightens his grip, his strong fingers scraping my scalp so fucking perfectly and painfully. The sting makes my hand jerk my dick faster as he slightly tilts my head up. I can barely focus on his face, too lost in my pleasure.

“Show me how much you want to eat my load. Moan around my dick.”

I easily do it, letting all my pleasure out as he mercilessly rails my throat, now grunting through his gritted teeth. I’m overpowered by what I’m feeling. I’m coming like a fire hydrant, ecstasy tears a hole inside of me and fills it with white, hot, ferocious pleasure.

What the hell is this? It’s like my body is in overdrive, and I can’t stop it. It’s as if a wave of electricity has short-circuited my brain, and I have to keep riding it. I feel my eyes rolling back inside my head as my balls empty on the ground.

When I finally manage to corral my mind and body back into the alley, I hear Hunter pant, “Coming on your face.” I want to tell him to flood my throat with it, but I can’t talk with his dick filling my mouth and my post-orgasm, foggy brain.

He pushes deep one last time and groans angrily, fisting my hair before pulling out and covering my face in jizz. His eyes lose focus, and pleasure dances in the brown irises as all his barriers go down, taking my breath away.

“Fucking take it,” he roars while pumping his hot cum over my mouth, cheeks, and chin. I lick it off my lips, wanting more of him and his sweet taste before I turn numb again. I use my fingers to try and clean my face and then suck on them. A contented moan escapes my lips. His hands in my hair turn almost tender, caressing my sides, massaging the sting of his grip away. Then he pulls back abruptly and tucks himself away.

I’d hoped I could suck his cock clean before we parted. Guess I was wrong.

I’m used to getting off, and then out the door before my cum has a chance to dry. I got what I wanted. Giving myself over to be used is always an orgasmic trip, but this time, I liked it more than I”ll ever confess out loud. Maybe because Hunter made me work for it.

I stand up and zip my jeans. My cum-wet boxers don’t lessen this jelly, floating, post-coital feeling. But the sweet pleasure is quickly being chased away by dullness.

I pick up the gloves from the ground, and while putting them on, I see Hunter’s eyes on the large burn covering my left hand. And that’s why I use gloves, to avoid the questioning. Well, that’s one of the reasons. The main one is that they help me forget at times about my condition. It’s like I trick myself into thinking that I don’t feel touch because of these gloves covering my hands—even though I’m aware that’s not true. I mean, I can’t smell or taste either.

Sick, right? Lying to myself. Kind of ridiculous and pathetic. But if a small, harmless lie helps keep me going, who am I to disagree?

“What happened?” Hunter finally asks. I didn’t expect him to care enough to be curious. Maybe it’s just his P.I. side coming out.

“Oil burn. I was a kid.” The half-truth I usually give comes easily out of my lips. I didn’t expect a reaction from him either, but his eyes darken. Oo-kay.

“This was fun, Grizzly.” I wink.

It really was. And that’s why I’m not done with him yet.

“I’ll text you the place tomorrow. Don’t be late,” I add before walking back inside the café to grab my tumbler.

A text from Uri arrives.

Uri: Malcom Bindy wasn’t there.

Fuck!