Page 3 of Primal

I grin into the darkness as I hold her there, pinned to the ground, my cock pounding into her like a jackhammer.

The Hunt. The night where we both can release the primal urges locked inside.

“Say it,” I command, gripping her hair and pulling back her head. “Say you’re mine.”

She doesn’t respond, but I don’t care. I won’t give her a choice. I’m going to fuck her until she submits to me.

I spank her ass, hard, a punishing warning.

“Say it.” My words rise in volume.

She shifts beneath me, her hips bucking and moving, her body responding to my touch, to the feel of my cock hammering into her.

That’s enough. I lean in close to her ear, my lips brushing against her skin. “Say it,” I demand as I spank her ass again.

“Never,” she answers between her pants.

A wicked smile masters my face as I come deep inside of her. “Oh you will, my fawn. Trust me. I like a challenge, and I crave the hunt.”

Chapter 2

Fiora

There’s a secret on Heathens Hollow.

A truth.

The haze, the fog, and the suffocating gloom does everyone a favor.

The thickness of it all silences the noise.

Poison thoughts used to rattle my brain until I moved to this island.

I used to be so cold, numb, frigid. I felt nothing until I participated in The Hunt. Last night, the blood in my veins flowed as the masked man hunted me through the mossy, mist-shrouded forest.

I want it again and again. No matter the cost.

Getting out of bed, I instantly notice my pussy aches from last night. Grimacing as I peel back the sheet, I know that my body will crave those feelings of intensity and vulnerability before I even recover fully. It doesn’t matter how terrified I was last night as the stranger fucked me harder than I had ever been fucked before.

As the sky outside begins to lighten with the approach of day, I stare at the window, wrestling with my thoughts.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Why would I do this?

What sane woman would consent to this?

But The Hunt has awakened something within me, a ferocity that has lain dormant for so long, and I couldn’t resist then just as I’m not sure I can resist in the future.

I dress quickly, wrapping my robe tightly against the cold morning air that seeps into my small cottage. The ache in my pussy only grows as the robe touches the sensitive skin, reminding me of the entirety of my experience the night before. My thoughts swirl with the possibility of doing The Hunt again tonight, despite the fear and uncertainty that has haunted me the entire time.

As I venture out into the morning fog to check the front porch for my basket of goodies left behind as my reward from the hunter, I try to push back the feelings of selling my body for the items of luxury that will no doubt be left for me. On the porch, a small wicker basket tied with a red ribbon waits. Curiosity piqued, I hurry back inside and into the warmth of my cottage.

Within the small wicker basket, glinting in the early morning light, is a beautiful ruby necklace resting in a black velvet box. The ruby is deep and vibrant, the color of freshly spilled blood. A fitting gift considering my hunter practically fed off me last night like a vampire would his prey. There are other gifts as well—an envelope full of hundred-dollar bills, an expensive bottle of wine, a pair of Prada sunglasses, and a gift certificate to the local spa on Heathens Hollow for a full day of pampering with whatever services I desire.

Some women would say the basket of wealth is the reason for participating in The Hunt. And, though I certainly appreciate the gifts that play a big part in the reason I continue, there is more to it. The thrill of the hunt, the adrenaline rushing through every inch of my body, and the feeling of being completely vulnerable yet powerful simultaneously, is what keeps drawing me back.

I can forget about everything and everyone. That is the reason I came to Heathens Hollow to begin with.

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