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As soon as the thought arrives, I dismiss it. It’s early. I want a challenge. A true hunt, not her shuffling through the woods half asleep. I’ll even wait for her to eat breakfast. Make sure she’s in peak condition to run. To fight.
My hand moves to my cock as I remember the defiant look in her eyes when she ran into the bathroom. Her ass, that underwear. My cock throbs harder. My grip tightens. Dragging my palm across my tip, I spread arousal down my length. I pretend it’s Claire’s wetness slicking my shaft, not my own. She’d been drenched. I’d almost lost control, taken her right there on the lawn. When I went to her room, I thought, worst case scenario, she’d leave; best case scenario, she’d tell me to get out, to summon her per the contract terms. Then she ran.
Claire ran.
I shouldn’t be so surprised. It’s what she’s here to do. But the game hadn’t even started yet, and she was ready to play. My cock jerks at the memory. I stroke myself faster, hips bucking into my hand. I should be driving into her, relishing the way her body writhes and thrashes beneath me.
The thought of her eager cunt convulsing around my fingers as she fought me tooth and nail makes my balls tighten. Pressure in my cock builds to an almost unbearable level. I could have flipped her over. Fucked her into the ground until grass stains marked her skin and dirt matted her pretty brown hair. Sunk my teeth into her neck and left a mark for her to remember me by when I’m done with her.
It’s the idea of her skin marred by my teeth—my claim visible for everyone to see—that makes me lose control. The bed rocks, squeaking the slightest bit as I thrust one last time and explode into my fist, cum coating my hand and smearing across the top sheet.
Fuck.
I needed that.
I feel like I might be able to wait until after breakfast to summon her. Rolling out of bed, I strip the sheet, using it to wipe off. After tossing it in the hamper, I climb back into bed. My last thought before drifting off is of how I’m going to bury my face in her cunt when I catch her. The taste I had earlier wasn’t nearly enough.
Chapter Five
Claire
I don’t want to risk being caught unprepared for summoning, so I’m up at dawn. My stomach feels like it’s hosting a butterfly rave, but I force myself to eat anyway. I need to be well-fueled. Today’s the day. I can feel it in my bones. It has to be. I need it to be. I’m starving for more. Masturbating myself to sleep last night felt like eating a granola bar in a steakhouse. I need something filling. I need to be run down and fucked until my teeth chatter.
Breakfast passes without a peep from my watch. I meet a woman named Gretchen. She’s Shane’s housekeeper and has short white hair with hot pink tips. Within the first ten minutes of our chat, she tells me she’s outlived four husbands. I like her immensely. There’s no sign of Margot.
I’m amusing myself in the gym, fiddling around on a Stairmaster so fancy I wouldn’t be surprised if it doubles as an espresso maker. My wrist vibrates. The watch flashes a seven, an insistent chirp accompanying the number. I almost fall off the machine. Seven minutes till Shane starts hunting me. Seven minutes to get what I need and run. Flying out of the gym, I almost collide with Margot in the hall. She opens her mouth to say something, but I yelp as I dash by her.
“Summoned!”
“Make him work for it,” she calls after me. “And be careful, remember the safe word.”
Three minutes later, I’m running toward the woods. When I woke this morning, I dressed for the hunt: black leggings, a camouflage long-sleeve T-shirt provided by Shane, and my sneakers. All I had to do was douse myself in bug spray and grab the small backpack holding a water bottle, a few protein bars, and a flashlight. I braided my hair and pinned it into a bun at the base of my neck. After he grabbed it last night, I’m not taking any chances with a ponytail today.
Overprepared? Probably.
Unsexy? Definitely.
A challenge? Hell yeah.
The woods surrounding his house are thick and lush. Trees feel like accomplices as I dart between them. Right now, my focus is distance. My watch chirps again, and I see a zero, which means he’s on his way.
Faster.
I have enough of a lead that I can be loud, but in a minute or two, I’ll need to move silently. Every branch break and rustle will draw him to me. Noisy prey is not challenging prey.
When I’m too tired to keep running, I look for a hiding place. A tall pine pulls my attention. Objectively, it’s a good-looking tree, as far as trees go. Thick trunk, dense branches. What makes it perfect is that it doesn’t have any branches I can reach from the ground. Shane won’t expect me to be in it. However, this big, perfect tree does have a neighbor with lower branches. They’re close enough that I can scurry from the small tree to the bigger one.
I can’t lead him to my hiding spot though. I walk past the tree about 100 yards, then double back, sweeping away any signs of travel with a fallen branch. Once I reach the small tree, I start climbing.
For twenty-nine tense minutes, I perch on a high branch, waiting for a sign he’s close. The forest is quiet. There’s birdsong off and on and a few judgmental squirrels, but no Shane. I wonder what it’s like to be on the other side of the hunt. What it feels like to have that type of power, knowing someone’s out there running from you. It has to be a different kind of anticipation than what’s tremoring through me, keeping me so tense it’s hard to stay still.
He steps into my line of sight. I hold my breath. He’s wearing brown tactical pants tucked into hiking boots and a green long-sleeve shirt. He studies the ground, tracking my barely visible footprints. The muscles in his back ripple as he pauses, bending to look at something more closely.
Can a pussy purr? Because mine is right now. If she had her way, I’d backflip out of this tree, stick the landing, and ask Shane to finish what he started last night. Thoughts of student loan bills and my unwillingness to lose this high-stakes game of hide-and-seek are the only things keeping my ass glued to the branch.
Every muscle tight, I wait for him to look up and spot me. There’s no way this will work. He follows the decoy. I prepare for my next move. He’ll double back when he hits the end. I don’t want to be stuck here when he retraces my steps.
Note to self: create a longer fake trail next time.
