Page 4 of Chase Me

“Now you did it,” he growls. His motions are quick as he tugs both of my struggling wrists into his hands, pinning them to the forest floor above my head. “I told you, little doe,”he breathes the words into my ear. “You can’t run from me. I’ll always find you.”

Electricity shoots through my body, every nerve ending on fire. He leans back enough for one hand to reach for his waist, tugging a length of cord from his pocket.

I struggle beneath him, wiggling my body in a feeble attempt to free myself. We both know it’s useless, though, and as my eyes adjust to the darkness, I can see the slightest smile raising the corner of his lips.

“Let me go!” I shout as I try to pry my hands from his unrelenting grip, but this only makes him smile wider as he laughs mockingly at my attempt.

“I caught you, baby, and now I’m not letting you go until I have my fill,” he tells me as he moves the cord to my wrists, replacing his hand with the material and wrapping it tight.

Pulling on the rope, he drags me up until I’m forced to stand. He wraps the cord around the tree, twisting and tying the material until the end result leaves me trapped with my wrists pulled taut above my head.

“Now,” he says lowly, his face hovering above mine, his breath ghosting over my cheeks. “Tell me your safe word, little doe.”

His question shocks me for a moment, taking me out of the fantasy, but his concern for my safety soothes something inside me once again. Whatever real fear was lingering there, mixes with the fantasy, and my thighs clench.

“Pineapple.” I recite the generic safe word we agreed upon, swallowing hard.

“Good girl,” he coos, and the praise sends a bolt of heat down my spine.

I tug on my hands, feeling how secure they are wrapped in the rope, as Connor steps back, his eyes roaming my body as he admires his handiwork.

“Little doe,” he purrs, one of his hands moving to his back pocket to grab something I can’t see. “I don’t think you’ll be needing this anymore.” He flashes the tool in front of my eyes, a glint of silver shining in the moonlight. It takes me a moment to realize what it is, and then he flips it over, and I can see the sharp edge of the pocketknife.

A primal fear courses through my veins and my legs kick out, trying to keep him away from me. The fight only makes him rougher, though. He catches one of my legs, pushing it back against the tree and pinning me there with his body weight.

He feels huge in comparison to me, and I’m not little. But next to my 5’5 frame, Connor feels like a beast.

“Be a good girl and don’t move,” he tells me, condescension dripping from each word. “Or else, I might slip…” His words trail off as begins to slide the knife down the center of my red dress. I barely suppress a shiver.

The fabric gives way easily, and the long slit down the center exposes me. He slips the knife through the two thin straps and the entire thing falls from my body, letting the cool night air caress my skin.

A sense of helplessness washes over me as he takes in the lacy set of lingerie I’m wearing. Completely on display for him. Connor’s tongue darts across his lips, and he stares at me for what feels like the longest moment, his eyes assessing every inch of my bare skin.

It gives me a chance to see him better, even if it’s dark and the only source of light is the pale silver moon. He’s dressed in black, something that didn’t help me when searching for him. Black jeans and a black long-sleeved Henley. His hands reach for the sleeves, pushing them up to expose his inked forearms. My gaze travels up to his broad shoulders and then to his face. He’s wearing a beanie, just like his picture. His chin is covered in a neatly trimmed beard, the ash color matching the stray hair that falls over his forehead.

He’s handsome. That I can’t deny.

Even if he wasn’t fulfilling my dirtiest fantasy, I think I’d still find him hot. Under any other circumstance, I wouldn’t approach him. I’d see a man like him, tough and tattooed, and assume he was too cool for me. Too dangerous.

But now, the danger sends a bolt of heat down my spine.

I’m torn between wanting to kick him and fight him off and wanting him to bend me over and fuck me right now.

“Fuck,” he hisses the word. “If you were mine, I’d never let you go. Never let you out in that skimpy little dress.” He traces a line down the side of my jaw, the leather of his glove soft against my skin. “Never let anyone see these perfect tits.” His fingers pinch one of my nipples over my bra, and I gasp in shock. “Never let anyone feel this smooth skin, this flawless body. I’d keep you for myself.”

Lust bounces off the walls of my stomach, turning into a butterfly flutter. God, do those words make me feelwanted.“But I’m not yours,” I spit back at him, taunting, even if every word I say is a lie. That only seems to make his smile grow more genuine, putting his pearly white teeth on display for me.

“No,” he hums. “Not yet anyway. But pretty soon, little doe, you’re going to be mine in every way that matters.”

4

Before I can even open my mouth to protest, to tell him once again that I’ll never be his, he’s coming even closer. He slides the pocketknife under one bra strap, and with a flick of his wrist, the material snaps. Moving to the other side, he does the same thing. Without the straps, the material hangs limp from my body. He slices through the band next, the lace giving way too easily. The bra drops to the ground, mingling with the mud and dirt at our feet and leaving my chest bare for my captor.

One hand still holds the knife, and his free one shoots forward, pinching one of my nipples between his thumb and forefinger, then moving to the other.

The pricks of pain only add to the pleasure, and I know in a minute when he drags the lacy panties down my legs, he’ll see the wet spot that’s grown there and find me ready for him.

“You can fight, but your body can’t deny what you really want.”

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