Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
He pauses his movement and hands as his eyes meet mine. A mischievous grin turns his lips before he breathes, “God you’re so gorgeous when you’re pussy is wet and turned on for me. I’ll enjoy my dessert even more knowing I’m the only man in the world to taste it.”
With that he slips a finger under my skirt and pulls my soaked panties down my thighs. His hand yanks at my hips and he pulls me over to the bed, positioning me with my ass in the air. I feel on display for him, shivering with need and warmth and anticipation.
“Mm, soaked and looking sweeter than candy.” I can feel his eyes on my wet pussy before he draws one finger down the soaked crevice. “My sexy, soaking wet, Little Bird. I love seeing how turned on I make this delicious little pussy of yours.”
I shiver, another rush of warmth flowing down my thighs. He rubs my bare ass cheek once, then gives it a soft slap. Next, I expect his finger, but instead I feel the flat warmth of his tongue trailing down my slit.
“Oh, God, yessss.” Is all I can manage.
“Fuck, I can’t wait to fill this hot pussy.” Both of his hands are holding my ass now as he buries himself between my cheeks, tongue working me up and down and into a quivering mess. “Give me all of that sweet cream, babe. I want to see how much you want this.”
His teeth slowly drag along my slit before he finds my clit and works it in furious strokes with his tongue and teeth. In quick succession a series of waves roll over my body, clenching my muscles and making me shiver and shake in ways I didn’t know possible. My sighs turn to soft moans and still he continues to swirl and lick and eat me.
“Fuck, you’re my favorite meal. I need you naked now.” He whips me around so we’re facing each other. His eyes careen down my body and my flesh pebbles with pleasure at his attention. “But keep the boots, gorgeous.”
Chapter Nine
Hunter
The next morning I wake without her. The lodge feels colder without Lark in it. It’s strange how quickly a place can turn hollow when the person who filled it is gone. I run a hand over my face, staring at the note she left on the rough wooden table. The words blur in front of me, each one a punch to the gut.
I went for a walk. Please don’t come after me.
The paper crinkles under my grip, the edges torn from the force of my frustration. Anger, regret, and a desperation I’ve never felt before surge through me, each emotion hitting harder than the last. I promised her I’d keep her safe, and I always keep my promises.
I shove the note into my pocket, grabbing my jacket and stepping out onto the porch. The early morning air bites at my skin, a stark contrast to the heat roiling inside me. The trail is faint, barely visible in the damp earth, but I know Lark’s movements as well as my own. She’s smart—too smart. But she’s also running on fear, and that’s a weakness I can use to find her. I’ll track her across the Continental Divide if I have to.
As I move into the dense underbrush, the adrenaline takes over. Every step is fueled by a primal need to get to her, to hold her, to make her understand that she can’t run from this—from us. But then, maybe letting her go is the right thing to do. She’s barely eighteen, how could I really think we had a chance when I’m sixteen years older than her? The memory of her in my arms, of her soft gasps and desperate touches, only sharpens my determination. I didn’t just protect her because I had to; I did it because I wanted to. Because she’s mine, whether she believes it or not.
The trail leads me deeper into the woods, the damp scent of pine and earth filling the air. I push through low-hanging branches, the ground uneven beneath my boots. Lark’s tracks are scattered, but I can tell she’s moving fast.
I reach a clearing near the edge of the river, the sound of rushing water filling the air. And there she is, her small figure huddled on a rock by the water’s edge, her shoulders hunched in defeat. She’s staring into the river, lost in thought, her posture heavy with regret.
I approach quietly, but she hears me. Her head jerks up, her eyes wide, and for a split second, I see relief flash across her face before it’s replaced by anger.
“You shouldn’t have come,” she says, her voice weak and filled with emotion.
“And you shouldn’t have left, Sugar,” I reply, my voice low but steady.