Page 6 of Hunted for the Holidays

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PLEASE BY OMINDO AND EX HABIT

“Oh, sweet little Charlotte,” I chuckle as I shift her body over my shoulder. “You should know by now that fighting me only makes my cock hard.”

“Stop, let me go!” she screams, her icy fingers clawing at my back, fists beating into me as I stride through the trees.

My feet come to a grinding halt, my free hand landing a harsh slap against her plump ass. “Someone’s not being a good girl.”

Her body goes rigid in my grip as she stammers, “Di-did you justspankme?”

“That’s what bad girls get,” I say nonchalantly. “They also get tied up.”

“What?” she gasps, legs kicking as she tries to escape.

At this point, I’m starting to get annoyed. She knew Kit wasn’t a good guy, so really, us killing him was doing her a fucking favor. I saved her–not only from that douchebag, but from the instant execution my stepbrother wanted her to meet. She should be on her knees right now, sucking my fucking cock in gratitude.Little brat.

Shit, even justthinkingabout fucking my little captive gets me hard. Seven years is a long damn time, and as good as her mouth felt, I know that prissy little cunt of hers is going to feel like heaven when it’s finally wrapped around my dick.

“Wyatt!” I snap, his shoulders tensing as he turns around to face me.

The balaclava hides everything but his eyes, but by the way they narrow at me, I can hazard a guess that his face is fully twisted up in a scowl.

“Give me a piece of that rope,” I direct, motioning towards the bundle of firewood he’s carrying.

Wyatt sighs audibly as he mumbles something about chopping the bitch to pieces, begrudgingly loosening one of the knots securing the wood.

Charlotte is still fighting me, but I’ve got a feeling it’s all false bravado. She knows I can overpower her. I can take anything from her–even that sweet little pussy–if I really want to, which I must certainly do. The fight just makes her feel better, so I’ll play along and let her pretend she doesn’t want to be used by me.

The way her body reacted to my touch earlier and the soft flutter of her eyelashes as I rubbed her clit is all the proof I need that this girl was meant to be mine.My perfect little captive.

In one swift motion, I flip her over and take her to the ground. She lets out a pained breath as her back smacks against the snow. Straddling her, I hold her in place as I gather both her wrists in one hand and hold out my other.

Wyatt’s green eyes track my movements, a displeased look still creasing the space between his brows as he tosses me the section of rope. I wind the rough and worn rope around her small wrists. I want this to be tight, a reminder to her to behave, but not so tight that it can’t be undone if I want her to please me with her soft little fingers.

Trying to tie a knot with one hand is hard enough, but Charlotte keeps moving beneath me, making it damn near impossible. “Stop fucking moving,” I grind out as the rope comes undone again.

“I’ll be good!” she shouts.

“It’s too late for that, my little snow bunny. You tried to run away from me, do you know how that made me feel? After everything I’ve done for you…”

Her blue eyes round, fresh tears glossing across them as her bottom lip quivers. “If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with already.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Wyatt sneers, folding his arms across his chest.

“Please,” she begs, a stray tear cutting a wet path down her flushed cheeks.

I need to get her back to the cabin. It’s far too cold out here for what little clothes she’s wearing. Even if she did manage to escape us, she wouldn’t make it far before she froze to death.

Ignoring my stepbrother, I lean forward, nipping at her ear lobe as I murmur, “If you’re dead, I can’t play with you or punish your sweet little ass. And I’m not done with either of those yet.”

She stills, the promise of getting to live longer seemingly making her pliable again. Rocking back onto my heels, I tip my chin at Wyatt. “Care to fucking help me here?”

“Your pet,” he scoffs. “You take care of her.”

“Whatever,” I spit, fumbling with the rope again. At this point, I’ve resorted to using my teeth to grip one end while my free hand tries to pull it tight.

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Wyatt sighs, stepping forward and dropping to a knee. “Give me that,” he growls as he snatches the rope from my hand.

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