More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
“What’s the worst that could happen? I realize my roommate isn’t entirely human, find out he’s actually a fucking mountain lion and a secret porn star, somehow let him talk me into doing ‘just a scene or two,’ then end up with a werewolf knotting my—oh, wait.”
HuntMeDown: DickHunt is happening, baby! MagicalHWood: DickHunt? No. We aren't calling them that.
A growl resounded in Richard’s chest as he scraped sharp canines over Hunter’s throat. “You’re going to smell so fucking perfect when you’re mine,” he said, and Hunter’s eyes threatened to roll back into his head.
Richard brought his lips tantalizingly close to Hunter’s. “I’m going to make you feel so good. Fuck you and make you mine. Stretch you wide open on my knot so the whole world knows who you belong to, and you’re going to love every second of it.”
Unfair and uncalled for. Since when had Richard Knotz started talking like that? He rarely talked at all. There was even an interview where he’d said he preferred not to talk so people could enjoy the various noises he wrung out of his co-stars. It was probably the longest answer he’d ever given.
Before Hunter could think about getting up, Richard stood, then grabbed him, tossing him over his shoulder like he weighed nothing and stalking toward the bed.
This was not how this scene was supposed to go. There’d been an outline. A plan. Some vague choreography of which acts they’d do in what order. But he couldn’t remember it and couldn’t be bothered to care. However things went from here, he knew they’d be good.
How anyone could manage such an arrogant expression with a dick down their throat, Hunter didn’t know, but Richard did, and fuck, he looked gorgeous while doing it.
“You’re mine,” Richard rumbled in Hunter’s ear. His claws dug into Hunter’s skin, borderline painful if not for the thundering orgasm about to explode through Hunter.
“Thanks for that, man,” he said, nodding to Richard. His dark hair was in wild disarray, his lips red from their kisses. “I haven’t come that hard in days.” Richard froze, his mouth hanging open. Days?
He’d given Hunter the best damn orgasm of his life. What the hell was he talking about? In days?
The last thing he needed was the real Richard finding the fake Richard in his sock drawer with an almost empty bottle of lube.
Max Thrustwell
Lmfaoooooo
“No. That Jesus fucking Christ wasn’t for the concept. I’ve seen those scenes before. They’re moving it because they’re worried he’ll literally kill whoever was unlucky enough to agree to star in that scene with you two.”
Hardin Cox?”
These names lol
“Making animals fight is unethical.” Richard’s expression was clearly judging Hunter’s entertainment choices. “Oh my god. You’re such a softy. I thought you were some complete unfeeling jackass, but you won’t even kill a fictional animal in a video game.
You’re the softest softy to ever soft. How do you do porn when you’re this soft?”
He wanted to curse but couldn’t. Richard’s laksa was even better than his linguine.
“Come on,” he said, voice breathless, hips rolling, taking Richard deeper inside him. “Show everyone I’m yours.”
His gaze landed on the juncture of Richard’s neck, on the smooth skin there. Too smooth. He should fix that. The instinct too overwhelming to deny, he leaned forward, his mouth latching onto Richard’s shoulder. He bit down, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to bruise. But damn, he wanted to do more than that. He wanted to sink his teeth into Richard, wanted everyone to see his claim etched there.
Richard sighed. “So what do you suggest? I cook for him? Take care of him when he needs it? Or should I take an interest in his hobbies?”
As they neared the counter, Hunter pointed to a large sign proclaiming, “Life is short, lick fast.” “Hey. Change two letters, and it’s your unofficial motto.” Richard stepped closer to say under his breath, “If you think any of our scenes went too fast, I’ll draw the next one out extra long.”
The first reply that popped into Hunter’s head was, Don’t threaten me with a good time. He didn’t say it though; it didn’t seem like a particularly coworker-y sentiment.
Richard’s claws scraped across the countertop. “That’s against the contract. There’s a whole section about no… following outside the scheduled scenes.” “MateHub would never have to know.”
“WHERE IS HE?” Hunter yelled, looking around with a frantic stare. “WHERE IS THE… THE FLOOZY WHO WANTS TO SLEEP WITH MY MATE?”
“YOU! You hussy! Home-wrecker! RICHARD IS MY MATE. NOT YOURS. Where do you get off sleeping with other people’s mates? You harlot! Adulterer!”
No one blamed his temporary mates when they disrupted a filming. They were emotional from the bond; any outbursts were easily forgiven. Richard was held to a higher standard, but Hunter had given him the perfect out, a way to not film this scene while still saving face.
“I AM TAKING MY MATE AND GOING HOME!” he announced as the crew stared at them. “WHERE NONE OF YOU TROLLOPS CAN SOIL HIM WITH YOUR STRUMPET HANDS AND TARTY WAYS!”
Hunter studied him for a minute, then said, “You fuck using stripper rules. You do all the touching; your co-stars barely touch you.”
He wasn’t wrong. Richard couldn’t deny it. “I like getting people off. I like making them come hard, giving them what they need.”
“Hottest scene?” Hunter asked, sounding as breathless as Richard felt. “Anything with you,” he answered before he could overthink it. “Same.” Hunter groaned.
Richard shrugged. “It’s just practice. MateHub never has to know.”
“And here I was thinking it was a compliment that you enjoyed my cooking. But in actuality, your standards are microwaved cheese sandwiches.”
“Oh, believe me. When I’m done with you, you’ll be dry-rubbing meat and pulling pork with the best of them.” “You say that like I don’t already. I also toss a mean salad, by the way.”
Hunter could drown in those depths, drown in Richard, and he wouldn’t care.
“Ever,” he confessed in the quiet bliss between them. “Not days, or months, or years. Ever.”
When they broke apart, Hunter said, “You didn’t answer. What do I smell like?” “Like home,” Richard said, his voice hushed, a caress against Hunter’s skin. “Like the softness of cashmere hiding wrought iron beneath.” Hunter’s throat tightened as his hand fell to the cashmere blankets they lay on. His gaze was drawn to the wrought iron grate, cradling the smoldering embers of the fire. Stars gleamed outside the window. The crew had done this for them. Set up ‘them’ in the scene with their magical special effects.
“So,” Richard said, breathless, nerves creeping through him. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but I think I might have caught feelings.”
“In case you need to hear me say it,” Hunter said, lacing his fingers together with Richard’s. “I don’t want to sever this bond. I don’t want this to end.”
Tristan Hey, asshole. Am I coming to the apartment tomorrow or not? The wrong answer comes with a punch to the face.
Tristan Don't blame that cheesy shit on me. I owed Max a favor.
“Max and the crew put together the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen, and all you’ve got is, ‘You’re moving in with me, right?’”
“You’re moving in with me so I can knot that ass of yours on the regular, right?”
Richard rested his forehead against Hunter’s and said, “This isn’t what I signed up for, but now, I can’t imagine living without you. The idea of an apartment that doesn’t smell like you, of not coming home to you, not playing stupid video games and cooking with you, not falling asleep with you in my arms? I don’t want to go back to that kind of life. I don’t want to live without you. You’ve made my world complete in ways I never realized it was lacking. So. You’re moving in with me, right?”
Hunter So… a funny thing might have happened during the filming today… Chance Ugh. You're going to smell like dog forever now, aren't you?
“There, there.” Hunter patted his arm. “I never seriously thought about killing you. I wanted my full paycheck.”
“Human isn’t even on here.” Hunter cocked an eyebrow at him. Richard stepped closer. “You were too tempting not to make an exception.”
“He’s not bad,” Hunter said. “Once you get past the prickly exterior, he’s kind of sweet.” “Yeah, he’s a real pineapple.” She side-eyed them both.
Hunter storming the studio to keep his mate unsullied by tarty ways,
Max tried to play it off. “Only you would fall ass-backward into a true bond.” “Hey,” Hunter said from where he was setting up the gaming system that’d been delivered that morning. “He did it perfectly. Richard is even better at true bonds than he is at fucking and cooking.”
