Page 33 of Hunting Harbor

He slides behind me, into me, all around me. His warmth fills the empty spaces. His body pulls mine close, and I let him, I let go, I let everything slip away.

“You were made for me,” he whispers, kissing my shoulder before wrapping his arm around my stomach, his fingers tracing lazy circles across my tight skin. “From the moment I saw you… I knew you were mine. Everything I’ve done, it’s been for you. You may feel this is fast, that this is the beginning, but for me, it’s the end. Sleep tight, baby girl, don’t be surprised if you awake to my cock buried in that pretty pink pussy.”

I should try to run again.

But I don’t…

Because somehow, what he says…

Just makes sense.

For now, anyway.

As the dark swallows me, a small voice in the back of my head is warning me to escape before he pulls me in too deep.

Chapter Thirteen

Kairo

I'vebeenawakesince4:37 AM, watching her sleep through the camera in the vent. Harbor's chest rises and falls under the white sheets, her auburn hair splayed across the pillow. The blanket has slipped off of her body, pooling around her hips. She’s gorgeous. Perfect in every way.

The soft blue glow of my phone lights up my face in the darkness as I study every twitch, every subtle movement she makes. I don't have any patience left. And frankly, after last night, I don't need it anymore.

There was a moment where everything shattered. Her resistance, her fear, and all that was left was a burning desire.

For me.

It’s funny… how much more settled I feel, now that’s she’s here. Now that I’ve confirmed what I first suspected.

Almost as if the world that once was black and white, is now filled with all the colors of Harbor. I want to take from her, but I also want to give to her. My mind rolls around to the toys I stashed in the bedroom on my last run here. She’s the perfect woman. The one who will allow me to push her to the brink and take it all.

She just doesn’t know it yet. If she can last, submit and thrive after I fuck her to within an inch of her life, then I will know she’s ready for the dark pleasure I can give her.

The cabin is silent except for the occasional creak of the old timber walls. Surprisingly, it’s not raining today. The weather is warm for so Goddamn early and I wonder if Harbor would want to go explore. Outside, the first birds begin their morning chorus, ignorant fuckers with no concept of how early it is. I take a sip of black coffee—my third cup already—and lean back in the wooden chair, my eyes never leaving the screen.

Harbor shifts in her sleep, mumbling something unintelligible. I turn up the volume on my phone, straining to hear, but it's nothing. Just the unconscious ramblings of a woman who doesn't yet understand what she's become to me.

Last night still pulses through my veins. The way she trembled when I pinned her wrists against the wall. How her eyes widened with that perfect cocktail of fear and arousal when I choked her,pushing her boundaries. The little gasp she made when my lips claimed hers.

Through the screen, I watch her eyelids flutter. She's waking up. I close the surveillance app and pocket my phone, moving silently to the kitchen table where I can observe her directly when she emerges. The coffee pot sits half full on the counter, steam no longer rising from its surface. Morning light filters through the pine trees outside, and the day is waking up.

Harbor appears in the bedroom doorway seventeen minutes later. She's dressed in jeans and an oversized sweater that hangs off one shoulder, revealing the mark I left there with my teeth. Her eyes scan the room, widening slightly when they land on me. She’s got bruises around her neck, and I try hold in my smirk at seeing her marked.

"Morning," I say, keeping my voice deliberately soft. Non-threatening. As if I hadn't shown her exactly what I am capable of just hours ago.

She doesn't respond, just gives a tight nod before making her way to the kitchen, keeping the island counter between us like a shield.

"Sleep well?" I ask, watching as she fumbles with the coffee mug, her hands visibly shaking. She's keeping her back to me, but I can see the tension in her shoulders, the rigid line of her spine.

"Fine," she mumbles. Her voice is rough, either from sleep or from screaming. Maybe both.

I let my eyes trail over her body, lingering on the curve of her ass in those tight jeans, the delicate nape of her neck where wisps of auburn hair have escaped her messy ponytail. I wonder if she can feel my gaze on her. Studying her. The way she shifts uncomfortably, rolling her shoulders as if trying to shrug off an unwanted hand, tells me she can.

"You know," I say, dragging my index finger along the wooden grain of the table, "I was thinking we could go for a hike today. There's a beautiful waterfall about two miles from here. Very secluded."

The coffee pot slips from her grasp, clattering against the counter but not breaking. Coffee splashes onto her hand, and she hisses in pain, quickly moving to the sink to run cold water over it. It’s not boiling, but I’m sure it stings.

"Careful," I say, not moving to help her. "Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."

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