Free The Hunter (Mistress & Master of Restraint) by Erica Chilson Page A

“Go slow and deep. I don’t want to cum in your mouth tonight. Not as much teeth as last time,” Marcus warns. Flop… Flop… Flop…
    “You like teeth,” I growl in outrage. How dare Marcus critique my technique?
    “I didn’t say no teeth, just less,” Marc impatiently says while tapping his cockhead on my parted lips. “I love teeth, but it gets me off too fast. I want to savor you this evening… and suck my balls but don’t go south of my taint into no man’s land. You were too adventurous last time.”
    “You’d like it,” I promise.
    “Says the guy who had exactly three thrusts when he lost his anal virginity. You and Ezra were so lost in one another that you popped before he got it all the way in,” Marcus says with a demented chuckle- the bastard.
    “Ezra never did last too long,” I chuckle as a montage of memories flash over my mind. “Denies the man who has taken the Panther up his ass,” I taunt.
    “Yeah, and it wasn’t because I wanted to, nor did I enjoy it. So no, I do not want you to experiment with my asshole,” Marcus barks out. “So leave it alone.”
    “According to Grant, it’s one of Regina’s favorite activities.” Marcus gives me a death glare. “Hey, he’s one of my closest friends, we have a lot of girl talk.”
    “Talking with the mute, classic,” Marcus grumbles while rolling his eyes. “Suck me, you naughty cocksucker,” Marcus demands while shoving his head past my lips, rendering me speechless.
    I groan around the impossibly thick invasion. I’m in heaven. This is the distraction I was looking for, only Ezra would be better. But at the same time, Marcus has never betrayed me, but the guilt over keeping the game from him makes me nauseous.
    Silky, velvety, and as strong as steel, Marcus’ cock glides past my lips, across my tongue, rubs against the roof of my mouth, and brutally shoves down my throat. My gag reflex fights against the throbbing invasion, much to Marc’s delight. 
    Lovingly stroking my throat, amber eyes glowing with a lust-filled fire, Marcus says, “Remember our first time?”
    And how can I ever forget. These stolen moments feed my need to create, to write. My memoir, The Hunter, writes itself within my memories.

The Hunter: Past
-Chapter Eight-
    “You bastard, how could you push them together like that?” I cock my elbow back and let my fist fly. The hit lands on Marcus’ face a second before I yelp as pain radiates up my hand from my throbbing knuckles.
    “What the fuck are you talking about?” Marcus hisses his reply, all the while rubbing his jaw where my fist connected. His amber eyes are blazing with anger. No man on this planet can contain fury like Marcus, and no eyes will ever burn you alive as his do.
    “Don’t look at me like that, you bastard. You set your son up with someone because I’ve never been good enough for him. But your loving cousin is perfect for your perfect son. You’ve always been jealous of us.” My voice quivers in pain, pain from my hand and from my soul. Ezra and I were raised side-by-side, and Marcus only adopted Ezra. I was never good enough to be Marc’s son, and now I’m not even good enough for his son. I fist my hand at my side refusing to let Marcus know his hard jaw hurt me.
    “I’m jealous of you as a couple or just jealous of you? ” Marcus twists the words, sneering at me. “I’ve taken care of you emotionally, mentally, physically, and financially for the past six years, and you have the audacity to say that I’m jealous of you… I’ve given you everything you’ve ever asked for: vacations, schooling, cars and more cars and toys, and an education to the top universities that you then decided to quit. The money in your trust fund is mine, as you know. I’ve put a roof over your head and held you while you cried, and you say that I don’t find you good enough. Should I be calling Dr. Weiss for a session?” Marcus quietly seethes, voice dipping to the pits of