The ground pitches beneath my feet, soft and slick with leaves and mud, my heels slipping uselessly beneath me. I rip them off, clutching them in one hand as I push harder. Faster. Deeper. The breath burns in my lungs, my heart punching through my ribs.
And somewhere behind me, I swear I hear him laugh. A dark, feral sound that promises one thing: this is far from over.
Twigs slap across my face, thorned vines snagging at my skirt. The hem rips as I charge through the underbrush, the sting of bramble slicing across my feet, but I don’t stop.
My heart crashes in my ears, too loud, too fast, drowning out everything except the ragged thrum of panic.
And still, I don’t hear him anymore. No footsteps. No rustling leaves. Nothing but silence and the knowledge that he’s out there closing in, which somehow makes it worse.
The air thickens around me, saturated with dread. My skin prickles, every nerve on fire. And beneath all that fear, something else winds low in my belly. Something darker. Hungrier.
It’s not just fear making me run. It’s exhilaration. The high of the chase.
But now’s not exactly the time to unpack that particular brand of insanity.
Maybe later. You know…when I’mnotbeing chased barefoot through the woods by a trigger-happy psychopath with a hard-on for psychological warfare.
Up ahead, the trees thicken, shadows knotting like tangled rope. If I can just make it there, duck behind one, find cover?—
A brutal force yanks me back mid-stride.
An arm loops around my waist like a vise, lifting me clean off the ground. I slam into a tree with a scream, air whooshing from my lungs in a strangled gasp. His body crashes into mine, solid muscle and rage, pinning me in place.
Before I can scream again, one hand clamps around my mouth, the other splaying flat over my stomach to keep me still.
Then his voice scrapes across my skin like a blade. “Did you really think you could run from me, Ms. Prosecutor?”
His nose brushes my throat, breathing me in like I’m the first inhale after a lifetime underwater.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment?” His irises blaze as his fingers wrap around my throat. “To have you like this. Gasping. Cornered. Mine. Without metal chained around my wrists.”
“What now, huh?” I lift my chin in defiance, ignoring the heat crawling through me like it knows who it belongs to. “You gonna prove what a man you are by choking a woman against a tree?”
His mouth curves, but it’s not a smile. It’s a threat.
“Net, detka. I am going to do far worse.”
Before I can spit back a word, he grabs me, spinning me so fast the world blurs. My front hits the tree, cheek scraping bark, and then his fist is in my hair, yanking my head back until my eyes find his.
Wild. Unhinged.
I let out a small, mocking laugh, knowing what I do to him. What I make him become.
He rips my skirt up without warning, and the slap across my ass that follows lands with bone-deep force, the sound echoing through the trees. I gasp, more from the humiliation than the pain.
And beneath the shame, a raw, hungry need tightens, wanting him to do it again.
“You think it’s funny?” he growls against my ear, his breath hot and vicious. “You won’t be laughing when I am through with you.”
Every molecule in my body lights up as his hand moves between my thighs, rough fingers parting me, stroking through the slick evidence of my arousal.
“Look at that…” He lets out a grunt. “You hate me, and still your cunt is soaked for me.”
“That’s a lie,” I snap, though the crack in my tone tells a different story.
His chuckle vibrates through me, full of wicked triumph, while his fingers play with my clit. Circling. Taunting. Tormenting.
Each stroke makes my muscles weak and my exhales hitch. I clamp my lips shut to stifle the moan building in my throat, but it breaks free anyway, shaky and mortifying.
