Page 51 of His to Hunt

Taryn

I soak in the tub for what feels like eternity.

By the time I get out, my fingers have pruned, my toes have pruned, and I’m pretty sure my soul has been steamed clean. But I feel radiant. I don’t feel quite as much like some charity case. I look at my jeans and shirt on the floor, realizing I may never put them on again. I don’t think I’ll mind that.

There’s a fluffy bathrobe hanging on a chrome hook, so I slip into it. When I step out of the bathroom, Victor is sitting in the middle of the enormous bed, wearing only his boxers. I feel moisture between my thighs, and it isn’t from my bath. Of course, he would find a way to get me wet the second I’m clean.

“I don’t know what you drink yet, but I’m having some whiskey,” he tells me, holding up his glass, sipping it, and putting it down on the table by the bed.

“Just some water for now,” I answer. “Why are you sitting on the bed? Do you not like any of the furniture?”

“Furniture is fine, but I’m here because I want to play a game,” he says, patting his thigh. “Drop the bathrobe and lie right here.”

“Are you going to spank me?” I ask apprehensively, pulling the bathrobe tighter around me, even as my body wants me to strip it off immediately.

“Yes,” he answers casually. “But once you figure out how the game works, you’ll also know how to avoid it. Now hurry up. I’ve been waiting long enough.”

“You told me to take a bath,” I mutter.

“And you did. Now get your ass over here,” he commands.

My body answers before my pride can object, and I slowly release my grip on the bathrobe. I take a few steps toward the bed before letting it fall away, feeling incredibly exposed. But when I see his erection tent his boxers, I don’t hate being so exposed.

I climb on the bed and scoot over until he pulls me into spanking position across his firm, muscular thighs. I’m feel his hard cock pressing into me. I realize how wet I am when my pussy clenches and unclenches, already imagining it inside me again.

“For this game, you’re a girl named Taryn,” he explains, adjusting my position before placing one hand on my back and the other on my bare ass.

“So, I’m me?” I ask, tensing up slightly when he rubs my ass with his calloused hand.

“Yes, now tell me your name,” he demands, patting my ass like a warning.

“Taryn,” I say hesitantly.

“Good. You got that question right, so you don’t get punished for getting it wrong. And I liked your answer, so you don’t get any penalty slaps,” he says, his hand coming to a rest gently on my ass again.

“Okay, I answer your questions and if I answer them wrong, I get spanked,” I say flatly. “This seems like a very one-sided game.”

“No, because I’m sure you’ve got a million questions too, and after every question I ask you, you get to ask me one,” he sounds almost gleeful.

“What if you get the question wrong?” I ask.

“I won’t,” he declares, his constant confidence warming me in an odd way. “Only way you get it wrong is if you lie.”

“Useful information,” I say. “What if I don’t like the answer? I can’t exactly spank you.”

“Doesn’t matter if you like the answer,” he growls.

“I could bite you,” I say, a little braver than I probably should be.

“That would just make my dick harder,” he chuckles.

“I could…” I look at his leg. “Pull out a hair.”

“You really don’t want to go hair for hair with me, little girl,” he warns.

“Fine, okay. Why are we playing this game anyway? We could just talk,” I provoke him a little, but I’m getting more comfortable, enjoying the warmth and the tingle of anticipation between my thighs. Almost as much as I’m enjoying every gentle throb of his cock.

“This is more fun,” he answers. “We’re still in the get-to-know-you stage of the mating bond.”