Page 7 of Willing Prey

Fight.

I rock my hips, trying to tuck one of my legs underneath me for leverage, but he’s too heavy. Without warning, he plunges two thick fingers inside me. Thoughts of fighting slip further away as he grinds the heel of his palm against my clit, fucking me with his fingers. I don’t want to get away. I want to get closer. But I shouldn’t. I can’t. I wiggle and squirm, hoping he thinks I’m trying to escape.

Oh no, help, not the sexy lumberjack lawyer.

Not his magic fingers. Ahhhhh.

My pussy clings to his fingers as he works them in and out of me, clenching around him with neediness that’s undoing my efforts to fend him off. I will my body to relax, to quit acting like it would pull him all the way inside me if it could. Shane doesn’t speak, only pumps into me harder. He doesn’t have to say anything. There’s nothing he could say to me that would embarrass me more than my needy pussy is right now.

Slick sounds give away what my mouth won’t. My body begs for more, even as my jaw stays clamped. I strain against his hold. He finds a rhythm that threatens to break my brain. I can’t think straight, can’t remember why I’d ever consider fighting this pleasure.

My movements no longer resemble anything close to resistance. I’m tilting my hips, riding his fingers, grinding against his palm. Shane’s teeth sink into his lower lip. His eyes are hooded as he stares between my legs, watching his long fingers destroy my will to fight him. My boyshorts are around my ankles. I’m lost to ecstasy, teetering on the edge of my orgasm. It’s going to be earth-shattering.

In an exhale, pleasure vanishes. He jerks his hand from between my legs. I can’t process what’s happened, all I know is I hate it. It’s robbery. Cruel. Inhumane. Frustration and need fill the space his fingers just occupied. Hunger begs to be sated.

Bastard.

I swallow a frustrated cry. His face is stern, and I hold his gaze, pretending my pussy isn’t spasming desperately, aching for something that isn’t there. The exquisite pang of being edged hums through my lower body. I’m no longer struggling, but I’ve never felt more like prey. He lifts fingers that were just inside me to his face. They glisten with arousal, shining in the porch light.

My pussy clenches as he slips them into his mouth. Eyes closed, he savors me, sucking his fingers clean. I stare. I want them back inside me. I’m aware of an emptiness I never knew existed. An unbearable need spirals through me. For one wild second, I consider lunging for him. Grabbing his wrist and shoving his fingers back where they belong. This is torture. This is what I want the safe word for. Forget too much. Can I use the safe word for not enough?

If I say wanderlust, will he make me come?

As soon as the thought enters my head, I chase it out. Money. Think about the money. Not the way he curled his fingers like he was pettin–

Shane shifts off me, rising to his feet. He’s going to leave me here, wanting and needy on his lawn. The heat between my legs feels like it might spread. Run like a wildfire until I’m nothing but ashes. He doesn’t say goodbye. Doesn’t offer to help me to my feet. Sitting up, I tug my shirt back down, brushing grass and dirt off my legs as I watch him stalk away.

He belongs in an action movie. It would suit him. He looks like he’s walking away from an explosion. As if he just set off a bomb, and now he’s moving on to bigger and better adventures. It makes sense, considering I feel like I’ve been reduced to rubble.

Chapter Four

Shane

It’s three in the morning, and I’m awake. I’ve jerked off twice since I left Claire on the lawn, but I can’t stop thinking about her. Ever since the work Christmas party when her jackass of an ex-husband shared how they spent their holidays on erotic hunting trips, I’ve wanted this.

Wanted her.

Keith had been trying to impress the other partners and me. As if we’d find out he was married to a gorgeous brunette who likes getting rutted in the woods and give him a promotion. That didn’t happen. If anything, it solidified the fact that he is not partner material. He’d already been “secretly” fucking a paralegal for months by then. I hate cheaters, but after hearing his story and meeting Claire, I realized Keith wasn’t just a cheater. He was also a fool.

Claire had been radiant, all smiles, sipping white wine while wearing what had to be the most hideous Christmas sweater ever created, though I liked the pun. Meowy Christmas. Brilliant. Even the garish green and red striped sweatshirt emblazoned with an iron-on patch of a cat in a Santa suit couldn’t hide how stunning she was. If anything, the absurdity of the sweater made her more attractive. A beautiful woman with a sense of humor who wants to be run down like a deer? My mind was blown.

His X-rated story sparked an interest I didn’t know I had. I’d immediately wondered what hunting Claire would be like, what fucking Claire would be like. As I lurked the edges of every conversation she had that night, I realized she was clearly wasted on Keith.

I’d tried to flirt with her, see if she dabbled outside the marriage the same way her husband did. For a brief moment, I even hoped they had an open marriage. No luck on either front. She was oblivious to my attempts at flirtation, polite and pleasant, ignoring every single provocative thing I’d said. I hadn’t known where to go from there. Couldn’t figure out how to say it without actually saying it. I’d gone home and jerked off, picturing another man’s wife running from me, being pinned beneath me, taking my cock.

The next day, I’d begun my search for a woman who would let me hunt her. I tried hiring professional sex workers, but it was too depressing. They were willing, but they didn’t want it. Not the way I’d imagined Claire wanting it when I fantasized.

Fucking the first woman had felt like sacrilege. I knew it was nothing like how it was supposed to be, how it would be with Claire. After I couldn’t get hard with the second woman I hired, I accepted Margot’s offer. The experience was wholly unsatisfying for me and, I learned after the fact, terrifying for her. That was the wake-up call I needed to quit trying to force other women to fit my Claire-sized fantasy. I’d wait for Keith’s affair to come to light, then I’d strike. Live out this fantasy and be able to move on from my obsession.

As soon as her divorce was finalized, I did some research. Started frequenting the same coffee shop as her, eavesdropping on her calls and chats with friends. Finding out she was worried about money gave me the perfect in. I wouldn’t have to woo her, fumble through an obligatory getting-to-know-each-other phase, and be charming on dates. I could come right out with it. Make it a business arrangement—a true win-win. Claire gets the money she needs; I get this urge out of my system once and for all. Scratch the itch.

Sitting in her room tonight, waiting for her to come out of the shower, I had wondered if my hunting fantasy wasn’t meant to be lived out. I’d traumatized Margot, and she’s worked for me for years. As much as I know about Claire from my research, she doesn’t know me.

So I waited for her in the dark like a ghoul, thinking if she wouldn’t be able to handle this, I might as well find out now.I’d wanted to unnerve her, see if she’d realize she didn’t want to do this after all. Better to find out in the house than in the woods. Some part of me thought she’d call it; she’d walk out of the bathroom, see me waiting, and decide it wasn’t worth the money. But she didn’t.

Images of her walking out fill my mind. When the towel hit the floor, my jaw followed it. I hadn’t known where to look first. Every inch of her was perfection. Thick thighs I need to put my face between. Wide hips I’m going to dig my fingers into while I take her from behind. Dusky nipples I want to tease with my tongue. She’s somehow solid and soft, substantial in a way that makes me want to sink my teeth into her. Something in her eyes makes me wonder if she might bite back, and god, I want that.

Summon her.

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