Hunted

We walked through the woods surrounded by the smell of earth and pine, the sky filtering through the trees echoing those last stray touches of daylight in purples, pinks, and darker gold. His hand found mine and I knew he had fed; his fingers warm as they slid between my own. He smiled as if to say, "Not too much further, baby," and the comfort of being home slowly rolled over me. The cabin came into view, a hundred feet ahead of us and we walked weaving between the oak and birch as the last rays of the sunlight settled upon the horizon.

He opened the door and I pushed past him quietly into the darkened room. The place rang with silence, disturbed only by the creaking of the floorboards underfoot and I moved to find a light. His hands found my waist and slipped down around me, pushing along my hips and over the small of my stomach.

"No," he whispered in one warm breath against my ear and my heart leapt as I struggled to breathe. He moved against me from behind to a music that only he heard, pressing my body tight to his swaying hips. The warmth of his embrace so utterly overwhelmed me that I hadn't noticed he'd stopped moving when he kissed me. The first wet press of his lips to my neck sent a shudder through me that drew me back into myself, calling me from my midnight fantasies. He pushed me forward, moving me through the dark between furniture and things I couldn’t see, before finally pressing me into the leather sofa.

His hips ground against me, his teeth at my neck, and I whimpered as he growled. His passion flared and I was drowning in him, fast, complete, forcing against his chest with my hands, but he pushed them away easily, sliding them above my head, holding them with one of his own. He moved hungry kisses down my chin, over my neck, stopping to feel the throbbing pulse between his lips.

“You want this, don’t you my girl,” he hissed, not waiting for an answer as he continued to push down my body. He licked at my nipples through the silk shirt, my satin camisole, but my body obeyed stiffening quickly. We both filled the blackened room with the sound of our panting, his fingers deftly unbuttoning my jeans before slipping under my shirt to stroke sharp nails over my abdomen. I cried with fear, with pain as he slit a slow spiral just at the surface, the lines rapidly welling with heated crimson which he proceeded to lick away. He circled his tongue over the twisting pattern, teasing my skin mercilessly. I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth, praying the sting would dissipate, but it continued as he kissed the pooled blood from my skin, finally quieting me by healing the wound.

“Shh, it’s okay baby...” he said softly and pulled up quickly, forcing me to grab his wrist.

“Don’t go,” I insisted, not wanting him to leave me.

He hushed me once more, promising to return quickly and left me alone in the dark in the center of the lodge. I shut my eyes thinking about the night before when we had been together. We made slow ardent love, both of us exhausted, but never too tired for one another. He lay behind me, positioning me forward before he slid home into the warmth that waited for him like no other. He pulled me close as he drove himself in deeply, but drew from me with deliberateness. He begged me to take it from him, his release, while his fingers slid over the part of me that needed his touch. In moments we came together, the sounds of our lovemaking pushing each other over the edge until we lay there still joined, wrapped in the calm of one another’s embrace. I hadn’t heard him behind me, but the feeling of his finger trailing down my cheek made me jump, dragging me from my reverie.

“What were you just thinking about,” he asked with as smile; you could hear it in his voice. “You were thinking about last night, weren’t you? Mmm, I love falling asleep inside of you.”

I shifted against the sofa feeling the flush creep into my cheeks. I had woken to him still buried inside of me, straining my hips slightly against his length, against that part of him that never seemed to get enough. He pretended to sleep until neither of us could endure it any longer and bracing himself against my hips he thrust against me until we were both fully sated.

“Tonight, my darling,” he spoke breaking the silence, “I want to do something different.”

His hands touched mine and he grabbed me from the sofa into his arms, carrying me up the unlit stairway towards one of the bedrooms. He stepped us across the threshold, then slid me down the length of his body. I pressed my hand over his heart and felt it beating wildly which quickened my own once again. He moved us further into the center of the room and then left my side for mere moments. Once he returned he spoke again trailing the softest piece of velvet across my cheek.

“Tonight, baby girl, I want to spoil your senses,” he whispered moving the velvet down my throat, over my breasts, and sidling it around my waist pulling me into him fiercely. I cried as he kissed me hard enough to bruise, forcing my mouth open with his tongue, drawing blood once more with those razor sharp teeth. I tasted the familiar copper flavor while our tongues met, swirling that essence between them. He drew from my mouth like a man starving, before releasing me gently. I gasped as he moved the velvet back to my face and then tied it securely over my eyes. The thick material fell over my ears as well, suddenly making me feel tiny and helpless against him. His low baritone chuckle sounded distant, even though he was there alongside me. I shivered with anticipation; and then he was gone.

I stood alone in the quiet of the room, blind and somewhat unable to hear, the sound of my beating heart accompanying the darkness. I shivered as sharp nails drew down the length of my arm, but when I reached out he was not there. I felt as if he were close, my named whispered somewhere inside my head, but when I sought to press back against him I was by myself. He whispered again, this time his breath brushing my hair, my name a request upon his lips. I moved forward, my arms stretched out before me, searching for him like a child playing games ... hide and go seek, Marco Polo. My hand brushed down the side of his shirt but before I could grab him fully he had vanished.

“Stand still,” I whispered trying to hear for the thick covering.

“No,” he chuckled softly and brushed by me once more. “Come... find me.”

I progressed slowly, incapacitated by my mortal senses and finally reached up and undid my mask. “No fair cheating,” he cried, still hidden by the shadows and the darkness of the room.

“Fair!” I exclaimed. “You have no room to complain about fairness my love.”

“So what, you want me to find you?” His voice lowered and his words were dripping with something akin to passion. “Should I reach out right now and touch you?”

I stood still waiting, his hand running down the length of my back before he reached around to hold me tight to his chest. “There you are, my girl. You have what you wanted then.”

He held me firmly to him, his body a solid structure behind me, cradling me against him. His hands traveled to mine, lightly tugging at the velvet tie. His strong fingers wrapped around my wrists, pulling them behind me and as if he knew the protest would come he hushed me gently. “Shh,” he whispered so close to my skin, the feeling of his breath touching me just before his kiss. His fingers twisted and bound my hands tightly behind me and without any other words he tugged the harness, dragging me towards a room at the back of the cottage.

The entire place was black as tar, my night vision adjusting but never very adept. He had planned this, knowing full well the ways in which he wished to use the items he brought, knowing which rooms he wished to acclimate me to without sight, sound, and now ... touch. I shivered while he trailed delicate fingertips up my abdomen over my clothing; his breath falling evenly upon my shoulder, his kisses hot and demanding, his fingernails raking at my stomach under the shirt as he brought me to the point of being completely helpless. He took the tie in hand once more, undoing it and readjusting it so my arms were stretched out over my head against a metal frame. The frame felt solid, longer posts that were a part of one structure – a bed frame. He stood behind me dragging his nails once more from both sides around my waist. The sensation was exquisite and made me draw in a breath.

He fell to his knees and starting at the small of my back, pulling the jeans down far enough to expose my skin. He caressed me with his tongue, kissing slowly, following the waistline of the material. His fingers wrapped around the front, pushing the already undone material down my legs, hands following fabric along my inner thighs. His cool even skin made me weak, touching mine so softly, urging my legs further apart. Every reaction that met with his approval drew a subtle murmur of praise from his lips. He stroked my exposed thighs with his hands then touched his lips to the inside forcing me to quiver against the frame. My knees felt weak but still I held my ground, refusing to give in to the temptation. He laughed, a soft husky sound, before he bit into my flesh. He failed to break the skin but my gasp resounded throughout the room. “Did that hurt?” he asked almost cruelly and I could feel the smile on his lips. “You like a little pain, don’t you my girl?”

I couldn’t help but shake my head. I was frightened by his idea of pain, not that he would hurt me much, but that the surprise of it, not being able to control it would be completely beyond my grasp. “Don’t lie to me,” he said gently, licking the silken panties between my thighs.

I wanted to cry, to moan, but I bit my lower lip instead stifling all sound. He repeated the action not satisfied with my quiet and continued to press against the material until it was sopping wet. Finally I struggled to catch my breath, begging him in soft whispers to stop. He did, working the cloth down around my calves, before pulling it from me.

“You are absolutely breathtaking,” he whispered. His hand traveled the small flat of my stomach, back down along my ribs, the carved shape of my thighs, the softness of my buttocks. He parted my thighs before his thumb slipped between my legs and slowly worked against the part of me that was most begging for his attention.

“Stop, please,” I begging quietly, whimpering a far different plea.

“I love it when you beg,” he smiled, pressing up a little harder, circling with greater intent. The fire built so strong and so long that I thrashed around against the restraints, bruising my wrists, crying to be free. “Fight for it,” he panted up to me. “Struggle, make yourself cum,” he commanded but every touch was only more flame.

“Kiss me,” I sobbed beyond my control and he did, leaning forward with the swirl of his thumb and the flick of his tongue he kissed me, fast and deep. Everything fell still inside my head with the rush of pleasure that came. He drank it all, his tongue sliding through it, so slick and wet. It had been too much, too fast, too hard and I continued to cum until finally he pulled away panting.

“My God, my girl, mmm, my God; good to the very last drop.”

He licked his fingers before sliding them inside of me and I nearly fainted. He grabbed me tight by my waist and reached up to undo my arms above me. The silk tie slipped off my bruised wrists and he kissed each one with a soft pout. “I’m sorry for these,” he said looking truly sorry and equally as wicked.

“Sure, sure,” I panted, his fingers still inside of me.

He held me on his lap with one hand, stroking the velvet across my back while he teased inside of me, rebuilding the heat. Finally he spoke again. “Ready for more?”

He didn’t give me time to answer but removed his fingers, licking them one at a time and covering my eyes. He turned to lay me on the bed and then moved away for mere moments. Finally he came back and the silken softness of his skin was my reward. Every inch of him slid across me slowly, seducing me with his movements. His kisses were perfection, art he had crafted for years. He started slowly, barely touching, hovering, lingering, soft breath exchanged for meager whispers. Then he’d make contact, gliding so smooth, so fluid, his tongue dancing along mine before teasing and coaxing and then fucking in every way I wished to be owned.

Finally when we broke I choked, “I’m ready.”

He chuckled against my ear. “I bet you are,” he whispered. “I bet you are.”

He hovered over me though I could not see him. I had seen him before and in my imagination I saw his face. He wasn’t just handsome or gorgeous. He was complete precision, an exactness that can only be made once in this world. I always told him I thought God must have wept on the day he created him. I had never been lying. His eyes were mesmerizing; a steely gray, a summer blue, or a sultry violet. His cheekbones were prominent, his jawbones sleek, his nose to the perfect point. The way his hair fell, the way it touched me when he hovered, my body shuddered simply from the thought. Still he waited. Perhaps he knew I was envisioning him. The way his muscles worked beneath his skin at his shoulder while he remained above me, the sharp definition of his clavicle, and the pale hollow of his throat. I saw it all in my minds-eye waiting for him to penetrate me.

Slowly I felt him ease down against me, the long hard line of his body pressing demandingly to mine. My thighs parted and wrapped around him, ankles crossed above his hips. He dipped his head to trail his hair against my cheek, his lips to the pulse at my neck as his cock eased gently inside. The slickness made it simple and we both gasped with the action. In smooth fluid strokes he pushed in, and in languid passionate caresses he pulled out. I could have died by the sense alone, every thrust my muscles tightening around him, wanting him to burn for me as I had him.

“Oh, I love you,” he murmured from above. “I love you and I love what you do to me. You’re so tight baby girl, you’re milking the cum from within me.”

I shuddered before restricting my muscles even more, tightening against him to make my body into a vice. It was impossible not to cum over and over, writhing beneath him, calling his name. I told him I loved him, I said I’d give him anything, and at the time I would have traded my soul just to have him inside me, as one.

I could feel him losing control as he pounded me into the mattress, striving for the release he so desperately needed. He yanked on the velvet once more as he groaned,

“I want to see you, I want to see your eyes.” I looked up at him lovingly, my green eyes sparkling to him with unshed tears, too much emotion to look away. One soft smile from my lips and the look in my eyes pushed him over. He fell forward, his hips working on their own and he panted indelibly the words against my ear. “Never... want... to .... stop. Need ... you... forever.” Then he was still.

We lay quiet for several minutes, my sweat and his blood sweat mingling together. He looked up finally and smiled softly, brushing my hair from my face.

“I should reclaim what I’ve given you,” he said with a wicked smile. I rolled my eyes and slapped him.

“You’ve had enough,” I teased. He smirked as he grabbed me, holding me from behind.

“Yes, indeed I have, although, I’m not quite sure I can ever have enough with you.” I smiled contentedly, having been hunted, bruised, and perfectly fucked. I sighed happily and fell asleep.