Page 9 of Thrill of the Hunt

I see a path ahead, and the lodge just on the other side of it. It’s maybe two hundred yards from the start of the path to the edge of the forest, and that’s where I’ll break free. Greyson hasn’t made a sound since I took off, and that scares me the most, but I’m trying not to think about it as I see the lights ahead.

All I have to do is make it there. So close, yet so far. Every step feels like ten.

Pushing myself harder, I jump over the final rock blocking my way to the path. My feet land smoothly on the flat surface, and I pick up speed, using my arms to help propel me forward.

200 yards.

I keep sprinting, breathing so hard my lungs might give.

175 yards.

Closer and closer, I’m almost there. The lights are getting brighter, and I can see the faint outline of people moving near the lodge.

150.

Suddenly, he’s on top of me, crashing into me so hard it knocks the wind out of me. I can’t breathe as we collide with the ground, landing several feet off the path. Greyson’s using the weight of his entire body to force me into the dirt. Pushing against him does nothing; he’s too big. Too heavy. He’s easily twice my size.

There’s a crazed look on his face as he tries to pin me down, shoving my dress up as we fight. His frustration is apparent when his hand reaches for his mask, ripping it off and throwing it to the ground beside me.

“You’re MINE,” he yells, making quick work of unfastening his belt. His voice is almost unrecognizable as he gets lost in his game of lion and gazelle. Of predator and prey.

I kick against him, using all of my strength to get him off of me, but he doesn’t budge. He’s completely unaffected by myefforts, making me feel weak and vulnerable. I’m at his mercy, and he’s savoring every fucking second of it.

Greyson’s hair is disheveled, and it’s the first time I’ve ever seen him anything less than perfectly composed and groomed. The control he once had over himself is gone, replaced by a crazed animal desperate for a meal.

I’mhis meal.

And I can’t say I hate it right now. It feels a lot like betrayal when my hips lift to meet his, pressing into the hard spot in his pants. We’rebothlosing control.

He growls low and deep when he feels me against him, and I watch his eyes flutter closed for a moment before reopening. The look in his eye tells me that this is him making his claim to me. Nothing and no one can stop him from taking what’s his.

“Greyson,” I breathe when I see the knife reemerging from his pocket. It’s flipped open in an instant, and he’s bringing it toward my throat.

He doesn’t answer, completely consumed with his power over me.

“Greyson,” I repeat, softer this time.

Positioning the blade at my throat, he runs his tongue over his lips. My body stills, and I stop fighting him. Ican’tfight him while there’s a knife threatening to end my life. One slip and I’m dead. I’m smarter than that.

“Hold still,” he commands as he presses a finger over my lips, drawing it down and over my chin.

Trailing my neck, his eyes work their way down to my cleavage. A soft moan escapes his lips when he begins to palm them, ripping the fabric of my dress down far enough to expose both of my breasts. A moan of my own slips through my lips as he pulls my nipple between his fingers, pinching it just hard enough to hurt. He sees my reaction, and he responds by bringing his blade to my breasts. The metal is cold against myskin, making goosebumps rise in a trail as he slides it. Changing the angle, he knicks my skin just enough to draw blood. I cry out as he opens my flesh, and it only makes him press harder.

If he wanted to, he’d cut deeper, which tells me he’s maintainingsomesort of control. The blade is so sharp he’s barely using any pressure, yet it’s making a clean cut.

Greyson’s free hand moves from my nipple, lazily touching its way down to my black panties. Rubbing his fingers over them, his eyes close when he feels how wet I am. I bite my bottom lip, trying to hold in a moan, but his touch is so light and Ineedmore. I feel like I might die if he doesn’t give me more.

Blood leaks out of me, flowing in a small stream over my chest. It mixes with dried blood, making various shades of crimson. Greyson bends closer, and I stop breathing as he holds the blade back to my throat. His mouth is on my breasts, lapping at the open wound as he begins working my pussy with his fingers.

Pushing the lace to the side, he slips a finger inside me, quickly withdrawing it to run it through my slick center. I arch my back off the ground, letting my head fall against the earth. He removes the blade from my throat, bringing it down to my panties. The metal slices through the fabric with ease as he cuts them from my body.

Greyson brings them to his nose, inhaling my scent before throwing them to the side. His eyes are the shade of black I’d expect to find at the bottom of the ocean. Lifeless and void.

After throwing my panties to the side, Greyson lifts my mask from my face, carefully placing it beside himself. I feel a weight lifted as I’m uncovered, like I’mmeagain.

“I want to watch your face as I fuck you,” Greyson says, unzipping his pants and freeing his dick from the tight confinement of his boxers.

My eyes widen when it springs free. He’s even bigger than I thought he’d be, and now my mouth is watering as I watch him stroke himself a few times, pushing a bead of precum out of his slit.

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