Page 9 of Hunted

The innocent question snaps me back to reality, the sound of her sweet voice cutting through the haze of lust fogging my brain. I blink slowly, tamping down the raging beast within me that demands I take her right here on this very couch.

“Lunch?” I rasp.

She nods, worrying her plump bottom lip between her teeth. The motion draws my gaze inexorably to her mouth, and I imagine those lips stretched obscenely wide around my cock.

I grind my teeth. "Yes, that would be nice."

A relieved smile curves those tempting lips, and she rises gracefully from the couch. The dress rides up as she stands, giving me a teasing glimpse of the edge of her black lacy panties, making my mouth water.

"I can whip up a quiche if you have the ingredients?" Zara offers, tucking a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear.

I grunt an affirmative, trying and failing to tear my eyes away from her tits, straining against the fabric with each breath. "There should be eggs and vegetables in the fridge. Flour in the cupboard, too, I think."

"Perfect!" She beams at me, all sunshine and innocence.

I can only nod, mesmerized by the sway of her hips as she turns and heads for the small kitchen. From this angle, I get a perfect view of the gentle flare of her hips into the lush curves of her ass barely contained by that sinful dress.

Sinking back against the couch, I palm the aching bulge in my pants and grit my teeth against a groan. Zara bends over to retrieve something from the fridge, that dress riding up to reveal a better glimpse of her panties.

Fucking hell, I'm going to ravage her before this day is through.

My cock throbs at the thought, straining against the denim in a way that's damn near painful. I rub my length through the rough fabric, reveling in the delicious friction.

The soft sounds of Zara puttering around in the kitchen only stoke the flames higher. My eyes slip shut as I imagine her on her knees before me, those pretty lips stretched wide as she takes me right into the back of her throat.

"So, Aksel," she says conversationally as she cracks eggs into a bowl. "What do you do for a living out here?"

I force my eyes open. "I'm a hunter," I grunt.

Those big green eyes meet mine as she stands at the counter facing me. "Really? That must be fascinating work."

A harsh laugh escapes me before I can bite it back. "If you say so."

She frowns at my tone but doesn't question it, simply returning her attention to whisking the eggs.

“And you?" I ask gruffly. "What brings a pretty thing like you to the middle of nowhere? You never said what research you're conducting in our correspondence."

A delicate flush stains her cheeks when I call her pretty. "I'm an atmospheric scientist," she explains. "I'm here to study weather patterns in the area."

My brow furrows, trying to picture this sweet, soft creature braving the harsh wilderness to get weather readings. The thought makes something dark and protective unfurl in my chest. "Seems like dangerous work."

She smiles as she chops vegetables. "I may be small, but I'm stronger than I look."

My eyes narrow as I drink in the flex of lean muscle in her arms, the determined set of her jaw. I may have underestimated this one.

"I'm sure you are," I murmur.

Zara's breath catches audibly, and her tongue darts out to wet those full lips, leaving them slick and glistening, forcing me to smother a groan.

Zara clears her throat and turns back to the counter. “Anyway, this region is fascinating from a scientific standpoint. The weather patterns are incredibly complex and not well understood."

I grunt, watching her as she works.

Get a grip, I chastise myself sternly. You're the master of your own fate, not some hormonal teen ruled by his cock.

Still, I can't tear my eyes away when Zara bends to slide the quiche into the oven. The dress rides up so far, revealing her panties, and I notice the wet patch right over her cunt. I imagine burying my face there, drinking her arousal, and making her come with my mouth.

"There, that should be ready in about thirty minutes," Zara says, straightening and brushing her hands on a towel.

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