“And you smell, Princess.” I stop on the other end of the tree trunk. “So fucking sweet.”
I turn my head.
And see a lot of nothing.
Her robe tie sits discarded, maybe to distract me.
I scrunch it up and stuff it in my back pocket. Leaves rustle behind me, and Daphne’s robe billows behind her as she hurries down a hill.
She’s clever. I’ll give her that.
I chase, but trip on an uplifted tree root and nearly faceplant into a bush. I catch myself and keep upright as Daphne runs in the direction of the house.
Alright, that’s enough. I’m starving. I want to bury my face between her legs and pound into her like an animal. I’m done playing with my food.
My heart hammers as I dash towards her, closing the distance more and more with every step. The fog doesn’t matter anymore now that she’s so close.
She makes the mistake of looking back. Her blue eyes flash, and she stumbles.
And that’s enough for me to close the distance.
“Gotcha.” I grab her wrist and yank her toward me, but the action makes us both tumble. Daphne falls backward, landing with an‘oomph.’Her elbow knocks into my chest and knocks the wind out of me so suddenly that my lungs burn.
“Son of a bitch,” I cough.
Daphne struggles to stand, but I grab her ankle, and she falls onto a pile of leaves.
I crawl over to her and grip both of her wrists, flipping her onto her back.
Her eyes sparkle up at me, and her chest heaves against the soft fabric of her satin nightie.
Keeping both of her wrists pinned down, I grip the thin strap of her nightie and tug. Ripping fabric and the snap of thread are music as the satin slips down low, revealing one of her glorious breasts. Her hard nipple points to the sky, and I release her wrists to dip my head low and suck the tight peak into my mouth.
Daphne whimpers, her back arching as her fingers clutch the back of my hood and keep my head there.
“Tristan,” she moans when the tip of my tongue flicks ever so lightly across her nipple.
I release her from my mouth. “What makes you think I’m Tristan?” I tease. “I could be anyone.”
She smirks.Of course, it’s me.
She shoves me back with surprising force and darts to her feet. Something pointy jabs into my side, and I’ve nearly been impaled on a dull branch. That’s going to leave a bruise.
I reach up and grab the hem of Daphne’s robe as I stand.
The robe slips from her shoulders and flutters into my hand as she runs away.
Well, damnit. Her nightie doesn’t have a tracker. I’ll have to follow her now.
Getting to my feet, I clutch the robe as I run behind her.
She glances over her shoulder, and I can see her tit bouncing freely with each step, and it’s fucking torture. She’s out of reach, so I pick up speed beyond a leisurely jog. The air is stiff, and my breath fogs my chin behind the mask. Damn, I wish these stupid things were more breathable.
In seconds, I grab her wrist and pull her back against me. But she’s ready for it, and her elbow jerks backward. I sidestep her attack in time to avoid a knock to the solar plexus. Grabbing under her arm, I hold her steady before my foot swipes under hers, knocking her legs out from under her.
She tumbles towards the ground, but I quickly sit her on top of me to take the brunt of the fall. My hip and elbow dig into the dirt, and a twig pokes me in the shoulder. A dull ache blossoms over those spots. I’m going to end up with bruises, but I don’t give a fuck. They’re a badge of honor as far as I’m concerned—war medals with the fight Daphne’s putting up.
She squirms, trying to get out of my grasp, so I carefully turn her over onto her back and pin her down, my hands around her wrists as I dig her hands into the forest floor.
