Page 10 of Hunted for the Holidays

As the leader creates teams and assigns routes to each, I stealthily sneak away.

This isn’t good.

We need to keep Charlotte tied up and hidden away in our cabin. If they find the opportunity to take her, they will. We have plenty of weapons in the cabin–certainly enough to defend ourselves against a pair of unsuspecting men, should one of the groups stumble upon us. It’s unlikely, though. If they follow the trail that leads to Kit’s frozen remains, it will lead them on a convoluted and complex path, in the complete opposite direction from the cabin. It should take them at least until the storm rolls in to follow the trail to Kit, which will keep them far away from us, and after that, we should be safely snowed in for months. That gives us plenty of time to play with our captive and for me to use her to show Derek just how good I can make him feel.

I make my way back towards our cabin, careful to cover my tracks as I go. These men might be professionals–at least I assume they are from the type of gear they were carrying–but that doesn’t mean they can’t be easily fooled. By the time they figure out that the trail they’re on leads them in a circle, the storm will have rolled in and they’ll be forced to leave our mountain.

The sound of a twig snapping gives me pause. I listen carefully, holding my breath to avoid making even the faintest of noise.

Nothing.

Slowly, my eyes scan the trees, looking for the slightest movement or the tiniest shift in the shadows, but all is still.Eerily fucking still.

My hackles raise, goosebumps spreading across my skin as the heavy weight of an unknown gaze settles on me and I know I’m not alone. The sun has moved behind some clouds, darkening the sky. Twisted shadows of the angled pines streak the surface of the snow. As slowly as I can, I move my hand towards the knife sheathed on my belt. My fingers itch to feel the worn leather handle of my blade in my palm, yet I dare not move too fast, unless it’s the last thing I do.

Without warning, something is forced across my neck, ripping me backward. The material digs into my skin, crushing my windpipe as my back hits something hard and solid–a man. Instinctually, my hands go to my throat, trying to relieve the pressure and allow air back in.

“And what do you think you’re doing out here, all alone, little hunter?” the deep timbre of a male voice growls against the shell of my ear.

I can’t answer him–not with the leather held tightly across my neck. It feels like a soft leather belt, one my fingers can’t seem to get a good grip on as I fight against his punishing hold. He’s bigger, taller, stronger. I try to gain a hold, but it’s no use. I’m fucking trapped, at his mercy.

“Are you out here looking for trouble?” His deep baritone rumbles against my core as he speaks again, not letting up on his punishing hold. Black spots dance across my vision from the lack of oxygen, the world shrinking in front of my eyes. My lungs burn and my heart pounds in my ears as I slowly start to lose the strength to fight back.

Just as darkness threatens to pull me under, he loosens his hold and shoves me to my knees. I fall hard, desperately gasping for air as I struggle to keep myself upright. His fingers move swiftly, threading the end of the belt through the buckle and pulling the loop tightly around my throat. He pulls on the end inhis hand, forcing me to lift my head back up towards the sky. I’m like a fucking dog on a leash.

The man circles around in front of me and I finally get a clear view of my captor. He’s tall and muscular but lean, outfitted in a black long sleeve shirt, an open winter jacket, dark jeans, and boots. His face is covered in a black balaclava concealing almost all of his face, but his eyes tell me all I need to know. His dark gaze is dangerous, full of a possessive fury that sets my entire being on fire.

“If you don’t want to be choked unconscious, you’ll do exactly what I say,” he commands in that same deep tone. “Are you going to be a good boy?”

I glare back at him defiantly. I’m not sure what his endgame is here, but I’m sure as shit not enjoying whatever the hell he’s playing at right now.

My lack of response is apparently unsatisfactory, as he pulls the belt harshly, the leather cutting into my skin and cutting off my air again. I manage to glance at the man in front of me and notice the more than obvious bulge in his jeans. He’s clearly getting off on my pain.Asshole.

“Let’s try that again,” he says as he loosens his hold slightly so that I’m able to suck in a small amount of air. “Are you going to be a good boy for me?”

Grinding my molars, I consider reaching for my knife to stab him, but that might get messy. I’ll play his game for a minute and see where this is going. I nod my head as much as I’m able to with the belt still looped tightly around my throat.

“Good boy,” he praises. The words shoot straight to my dick and it thickens behind my zipper. “Now open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

What the fuck?

When I hesitate, he pulls again. My air constricts and my hands fly to my belt to grab for my knife, but he’s quicker. Withthe toe of his boot, he kicks my hand away. “Don’t make me tie you up. I want you to be able to use your hands for what I have in store for you, my little hunter.”

A moment passes, then another, before I reluctantly follow his orders and stick out my tongue. He growls as his other hand twists into the hair on the nape of my neck, forcing my head back until my eyes meet his. The mask hides his mouth, but I can see the satisfied smirk lighting up his dark eyes.

“Take out my dick” he demands, his voice laced with a desperate need that I haven’t heard before.

As quickly as I can, I undo the button of his jeans and release the zipper. My hand brushes against his hard abs as my fingers dip beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs. He’s warm and hard in my palm as I pull him out. I’m desperate to look, but his fingers tighten their hold on my hair, making sure my eyes stay locked on his the entire time.

Lust swirls in the inky darkness of his pupils as I wrap my hand around his length.Shit, he’s big.From the feel of him in my palm, he’s longer than me. Thick veins run down his shaft and precum leaks from his tip. Dragging the rough pad of my thumb over the velvety skin of his cockhead, I feel my own dick grow painfully hard in the confines of my pants.

“Such a desperate fucking whore, aren’t you? So willing to be on your knees sucking a masked stranger's cock.”

He growls and I strain my neck to nod.

He tugs on my hair, creating a harsh sting across my scalp, “Words, little hunter.”

My mouth starts to water around my outstretched tongue, evidence of just how right he is. I’m feral, absolutely desperate to taste him. “Yes,” I finally manage before sticking my tongue back out.

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