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I leaned in to take her mouth again, but she pushed on my chest, turning her head to the side. The realization hit me slowly, like the light from a sunrise.
“Do you want me to fight you for it?” I asked, needing her words. At least this one last time. “Do you want me tomakeyou…”
She swallowed, not looking at me. I leaned in again, and she pushed me back. It wasn’t hard. She had more strength than she was using.
“Use your fucking words, Rose.” I commanded.
She nodded, her eyes shutting with her admission.
“Words!” I growled.
“Yes.” Her voice was so quiet, I could barely hear it over the rustle of the leaves in the wind.
My heart skipped a beat. Was this woman real? She didn’t look like it. Not in the dim light of the moon, standing under the thick, wide branches of an Elm Tree. She looked like something I created in my mind, like a melody that I pluck out of the air and turn into a composition.
“Run.” I growled at her.
She flinched, but didn’t move.
“Run!” I yelled the command.
She jolted upright. I smiled at her, tilting my chin up, my fingers flexed, ready for the hunt.
I could smell the chase, and feel the fight. I sensed the moment she understood the game. Acceptance flashed in her hazel eyes. It made my blood hum with anticipation.
She lunged left, and I moved to grab her. She twisted out of my grasp and ran.
I gave her a moment. A few seconds headstart for my own pleasure, her dark hair cascading behind her with her graceful gait.
She ran without purpose, not knowing where she was or where she was going. I stalked after her, knowing that without a guide like a distant star, or landmark, she would go in a circle. It was human nature. Every person has a preferred side, and the human tendency was to walk in a curved line. Her? She favored her right side, her strong arm.
I touched the knife at my hip and smiled.
Not yet…I thought to myself, tracing the scabbard with my index finger.
I started a jog, moving farther to the right to intercept her. I matched the rhythm of my steps to hers to obscure my approach. She looked behind her, searching for me. When she turned, I waited, my arms out as I encircled her from the side. She screamed, kicking wildly.
I lifted her into the air, until she fell on her hands and knees in the dirt. She landed with a grunt. Her elbow came to my face and I barely had time to dodge it.
I grunted when she landed a hit to my ribs. I pushed her until she was pinned on the ground. She tried to buck and fight. She managed to roll onto her back, her legs squeezed between my thighs.
Her fist landed on my jaw. Her right hook was impressive. I grunted at the impact and felt it start to bruise. I salivated as my desire grew. Her fight was beautiful. Erotic. Her movements, jagged and powerful and stifled by my larger weight.
But she didn’t want to fight me. That was the only reason I had this champion pinned to the ground. She wanted this as much as I did.
I pulled the knife from its sheath, putting the blunt, flat spine against her cheek. It glinted in the moonlight, and she stilled, her mouth open. Her pulse quickened at her throat, and I licked my lips, fighting the urge to put my teeth on that delicate, smooth skin.
“Stay very still,” I warned under my breath. “Very, very still.”
I kissed her throat, feeling the pulse. With one hand, I planted a wrist above her head.
“Put your other wrist up there,” I indicated the hand she had in a fist. Her nostrils flared with her effort. I pushed the knife even further into her skin. The cold metal steamed against her hot flesh. “Put. Your. Wrist. Up.”
She obeyed, her eyes filled with resentment. I took the sharp point against her skin, leaving a small scratch raised on her cheek. Nothing that would mark her beautiful face, but just enough for her to feel fear.
“The more you struggle…” She tried to kick, but I thrust my hips forward, grinding my throbbing cock against her heat. “The harder I get.”
She stilled, her chest heaving. I let go of her wrists. She kept them over her head without needed to be told to.
