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The Hunt

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My feet were up o the dash, the wind coming through the window blowing my hair about my fair. I had my sunglasses on against the last rays of sun, dying a slow death as it prepared to sink behind the horizon ahead of us. Music was blaring out of the radio – my choice, for a rare change – and my fingers were busy rummaging in the bag of Maltesers I was holding, hunting for the last few sweets in the pack. Altogether, I was feeling pretty good.

And only a tiny bit nervous.

“Where are we going again?” I asked, looking over at him.

He grinned, dark slashes of eyebrows lifting to peek over the top of his sunglasses, hand lifting off the steering wheel to reach over and land on my thigh, covered in thin cotton yoga pants.

“I told you, it’s a surprise.”

“I hope I don’t need to be dressed nicely for this surprise,” I muttered.

I’d been bundled into the truck without even so much as time to put a jacket on against the late evening chill, and I was dressed in the sloppy t-shirt, stretchy pants and running shoes I’d spent the day in. Of course, he knew where we were going and he could have instructed me to change before we left if I needed to, but he didn’t tend to think about things like that. It would be nothing to him to take me to a fancy restaurant or even a club, dressed like this, whereas I would die of embarrassment, conscious of every judgemental stare.

The grin slid a little, one eyebrow raising higher than the other in a slight show of disapproval. I bit my tongue against the need to push further for answers, aware I was already riding the edge of his patience.

We weren’t all that far from home, but we’d left the main road and taken an offshoot I wasn’t familiar with, quickly leaving the town and venturing out into the countryside. The road twisted and wound down a long valley, copses of trees dotting the landscape amidst gentle rolling grassland that was open to sheep to graze where they would. A thin river followed us along as we drove, occasionally disappearing out of sight only to pop up again just when I thought we’d left it behind for good.

After a mile or so, he turned again, this time onto a dirt track. It weaved up a steep hill, the darkness falling more fully as we drove in.

“Where on earth are we going?” I spat, finally getting exasperated as a deep pothole bounced me hard, smacking my knee off the central dash.

“Here,” he said.

I glanced at him, nonplussed, then looked out the windscreen as he turned took a final twist in the road and a valley spread out before us in a basin. There, maybe three or four miles away, the lights of the town winked in the gathering night. We’d driven maybe an hour just to go in a long, long circle.

“And what are we doing here?” I asked.

He’d long since tossed aside his sunglasses – as had I – and the grin he turned on me was almost wolfish, eyes gleaming in the lights from the dashboard.

“Take off your shoes?”

What? I blinked, confused, but did as he asked.

“Socks, too. Then give them to me.”

I stuffed a sock into each show and then handed them over. He took both in his hands and then tossed them into the backseat.

“Now your phone, and your keys.”


“Do you want to try that again?” he cut in, that edge in his voice.

Ok, so it was like that.

“Sir…” I began.

“Phone and keys.”

Wordlessly I handed them over.

“Do you have your wallet?”

“No, Sir.” I shook my head. It was back at the house, sitting on the coffee table.

“All right then. Get out, baby.”

I… what? Get out? I look outside, at the empty landscape, then back at him. Was he serious?

He stared back at me calmly, but I could feel it. An energy pulsing from him. An excitement. Slowly, ***fully slowly, the wheels started to click into place.


My hands fumbled for the door handled and I released the catch.

“I’m going to give you a ten minute head start,” he said. “If you make it home, there’s a present on the bed. You can run a bath, pour some wine. Relax.”

“And if I don’t make it home, Sir?” My voice trembled, adrenaline starting to pulse through my veins.

His face lit up with unholy delight. “Then you’ll get your present a lot sooner, won’t you? Let’s hope you like it.”

He let it hang there, just the hint of a threat.

“Clock’s ticking, baby.”

I pushed the door open, my eyes still on his. I eased out of the car backwards and he just sat there, composed and relaxed, except I knew that to be a lie. He was more like a lion or a panther, lulling its prey into a false sense of security before it pounced.

Closing the door of the truck broke the spell I was under, released me from the magnetism of his aura. I turned and contemplated the lights of the town, easily visible but suddenly looking far away, then took off.

“Motherfucker!” Almost immediately, a sharp stone dug into the sole of my foot. I hopped, wincing, then forged on. Once I left the dirt and gravel track and moved onto the grass, wet with the afternoon’s rain and squidgy beneath my feet, the going was easier. I felt it cold between my toes, though, water oozing up to meet me. My thin t-shirt wasn’t enough to combat the chill, and the quickly cooling air that I was drawing into my lungs added to the ***, weightless feeling starting to grip me. I felt panicked and jittery, like a mare following her instinct to flee, control and rational thought lost.

I’d just scrambled across a small burn, the last of the light just illuminating the sheen of the water and stopping me ploughing right into its frigid grip, when I looked back for the first time. I couldn’t see the truck, my eyes darting across the lightless ground, trying to work out how far I’d travelled, where he might be. He helped me out, opening the door and illuminating the cab of the vehicle.

Wow, I’d come farther than I realised.

When I saw him slithering out, though, it didn’t seem close to far enough.


I turned and started running again, my breath coming in gasps. He was probably still up at the truck, breathing in the night air, relishing the thrill of the chase to come, but the game felt different now. It had started. I could sense him out there, behind me. Coming for me.

A stitch throbbed in my side, but it didn’t come close to the aching pulse between my legs. I wanted to be caught, but I also knew just how worked up he was going to be. How… ***istic. That turned me on, but it also frightened me a little. Pushed me on instead of encouraging me to wait, be a gift in the dark to be unwrapped.

I could imagine the hard, urgent feel of his hands, the dank ground a harder, less welcoming bed. My body said yes at the same time my civilised mind screamed no, so I kept on running.

I moved as fast as I could, but I knew he’d be faster. He wouldn’t be hampered by the *** softness of bare feet, for one, and his legs were longer, stronger. I couldn’t hope to match his pace. He was going to catch me – and the uncertainty of when that might be, the knowledge that at any second a firm grip could wrap round my arm, or my middle, or tangle in my hair, was a heady one.

I could have hidden, the darkness was almost complete enough for it, but that thought didn’t occur to me. All I could think was run.

I tripped over a small hillock, my ankle twisting beneath me. It was almost enough to drop me to the ground, but I managed to save myself, though a sob tore free from my chest. I clapped a hand over my mouth, though it was too late to smother the sound, loud in the quiet. I froze, listening, wondering how badly I’d revealed myself. I’d almost forgotten who it was who was chasing me. His name, his quick wit, his warm body that curled around mine at night. He was none of that now. He was a predator, a strange beast, and he was coming for me.

I started forward again, mindless now. My thoughts had narrowed down to the lights ahead of me and the darkness behind. And I wasn’t talking about the night. My run was uncoordinated, my feet tripping and falling, my arms flailing at my sides. I was gasping and panting, strange little noises erupting from my throat as I urged myself forward. My shoulders were hunched, trying to protect my *** neck. My every nerve was strung tight, knowing that any second he might-

A warm hand wrapped around my upper arm, yanking me to a stop. My upper body folded over, but an arm around my middle prevented me from face-planting in the mud.

“Gotcha!” he hissed.

I felt his warmth all up my back and his strength holding me up, a weird dichotomy to my chilled skin and wild, panicked thoughts.

He let go of my arm and fisted a handful of hair, yanking my head back and exposing the line of my throat to him. His mouth was hot as it bit and licked at my neck, his arm around my middle an iron bar that held me to him, ensured I could feel his erection pressing into the small of my back.

Teeth gripped the curve at the junction of my shoulder, his hand releasing my hair to reach for the collar of my t-shirt. He ripped at it, and as light as the fabric was, it fought before giving way, digging into me and stinging my skin as it tore. I felt the cool on my stomach, then jerked as that same hand grabbed at my bra, yanking at the cups until my breasts poured over the top.

His touch was hot and hard, squeezing and pinching. I was trapped between that and the feel of his teeth, digging in hard enough to leave a bruise.

“Please, please.” I was surprised I could form words, my brain misfiring, all of my awareness centred on my body and what was happening to it. What was about to happen. I didn’t even know what I was begging for. It certainly wasn’t to be let go. For gentleness, maybe? I wasn’t sure I wanted that, either, and I definitely wasn’t going to get it.

He picked me up, hauling me against his front and walking with me as my legs dangled ***ly in the air. I couldn’t see where we were going, didn’t realise his destination until he dropped me back down and spun me round and back. I felt the roughness of bark along my spine, scratching and digging in. He leaned into me, pressing all along my body as his tongue penetrated my mouth. It wasn’t a kiss, it was harder than that. It was a claiming, invading me and demanding I be quiescent to his questing tongue, the sharp edges of his teeth.

At the same time his hands went to his belt, undoing it and shoving his jeans out of the way before turning to my yoga pants, shoving them down along with my panties, using his foot to drag them off entirely, kick them away. His knee shoved between my thighs, parting them in one violent movement so that his hand could cup my cunt. There was no stroking or gentling. He pressed and prodded, grunting with satisfaction when he found me hot and wet.

Two hands went to the back of my thighs, hoisting me up while spreading me open. I grimaced as the tree scratched at the tender skin of my back, but that small discomfort disappeared a moment later when he thrust into me, hard and fast. I clutched at his shoulders, nails digging in, mouth open and head tipped back, as he let me have it.

It hurt, his movements violent and unyielding, his grip on my thighs holding me spread and angled so that he hit deep than I thought possibly, but there was also a fire growing that stole the breath from my lungs, reduced me to incoherent whimpers. I was going to detonate, without a single gentle touch or caring word. Just the utter primal nature of being fucked hard up against a tree, my clothes torn from my body and my lover, my Sir, reduced to grunts and fierce, almost barbaric instinct.

I’d no sooner had the thought than it hit me, a strangled scream cutting through the air, my body seizing and shuddering, pinned like a butterfly between the tree and his unyielding body. He kept on thrusting, ignoring me when I started to writhe and mewl, too sensitive after my orgasm to deal with his rough handling. He made me take it, too intent on the act to read my signals or care about them. I gasped and jerked, pushed beyond endurance, my eyes rolling back in my head as twitches and spasms wrecked my clit, my core.

When he came, he bit down hard on my shoulder, cutting through my haze of over-stimulated pleasure and, I was pretty sure, my skin. Drawing my *** into his body as he poured his cum into mine. Hi thrusts became arhythmic and even more ***ful, shoving me against the tree, pinning my thighs hard against my torso until my muscles screamed in protest.

The aftermath echoed with quiet. He held me in position still, his every muscle tense, head buried into my shoulder. Feeling the world return to me, I let go of his shoulder and threaded my fingers through his hair, stroking and gentling. He flinched then settled into my touch, so I used my other hand to rub up and down his back, along the line of his shoulders through his shirt.

It took a long moment, but eventually he lifted his head, pressed the side of his face to mine, the gentle puffs of his breath ticking my ear.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“Hey,” I whispered back.

“You okay?”

I took a moment to answer. I was boneless and shaking with the adrenaline of it all. The ***, the excitement, the base nature of what we’d just done. I wasn’t all right, not this very moment, but I would be.

“Yeah,” I told him.

He made a low noise, disbelief and satisfaction rolled into one.

“I hurt you?”

I was sore, in a variety of places, but right then I didn’t care. I was buzzing, high.

“I’m okay.”

I felt him smile against my cheek, then turn and kiss me there.

“Come on, let’s get back to the truck. I’ve some blankets and a big bar of chocolate with your name on it. Then it’s home and a bath.”

“Wine?” I asked. “I remember there being mention of wine.”

“There can be wine.”

He lowered me gently to the ground and repositioned his hands, hoisting me back up into a cradle carry. I dropped my head onto his chest, too overwhelmed to complain about being too heavy or too awkward like I normally did.

“You mentioned a present, too,” I reminded him.

“You just got your present,” he joked, squeezing me slightly. “But there might be something at home, too.”

“Good,” I murmured, eyes fighting against a sudden need to close. “I like presents. And I think I earned it. I almost made it to town.”

“You made it half a mile, baby,” he commented.

“Hmmm,” I murmured, smiling as I pressed my face into his neck. “I wanted you to catch me.”

He let that slide, walking with steady, even strides back up the hill. I was fast asleep before we made it anywhere near the truck.


Is there anything Charli can’t write about? ❤️

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