Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 32284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Draven hisses through gritted teeth when I lick him from root to tip. He tries to pull back, but I grip the shaft and bring the flared crown to my lips, taking as much of him in my mouth as I possibly can. It doesn't go in very deep, but I hold him by the base and use my other hand to pump him toward my lips. His hips start moving, and he abandons himself to sensation, making me infinitely happy.
"Jesus Christ, woman. What are you doing to me?" he moans as I stroke him faster, flicking my tongue at the ridge under the crown until his legs shake. He grabs the top of my head and pulls me off just as his entire body shudders, and he paints the tiles with his release.
"Goddamn," he whispers, lifting me to my feet. He tips my chin up for a slow, searing kiss. Streams of water cascade down my cheeks, forehead, and lips.
Draven wraps me in his arms, tugging me closer, and I never want this feeling to end.
Over the following days, life settles into a delicious pattern of work and play. Although there's no reason to hide our relationship from Gretchen, we decided to keep things quiet for a little longer.
What we have is special. We want to get to know each other slowly and stretch out the experience for as long as possible. Seeing as our relationship will unfold within the house, we can get creative by setting up artificial hurdles for ourselves, and I like that. Sneaking around with Draven is fun.
Draven said something exciting the first time we were together in the woods. He said he wanted to stalk me, which gave me an idea. Knowing he wants to hunt me like prey sends a thrill up my spine. I'm not afraid of him. He's my lover, my protector, and I'm up for the challenge.
It's been a few days since the mountain lion attack, and tonight is the full moon. I want to challenge Draven to a seductive game. Desire and excitement swirl inside me, knowing I am in the position of power. It's my game, my decision, and all I need is the right time to tell him.
The perfect moment presents itself after Draven and Gretchen finish their dinner. While clearing the plates, I whisper my wicked plan in his ear. I make sure to have my back to his mother so she won't see his reaction and give the game away. Seeing his eyes light up with a wicked glint, I know I made the right decision. The rest of the evening passes as it normally does.
When Gretchen says goodnight and goes to bed, the hunt begins.
Sure, part of the chase is a game, but there's also danger in the forest. That's a big part of the reason why I suggested doing this. We need to face our fears, but more than that, we need to trust ourselves and each other. We have what it takes.
The woods are beautiful in the moonlight. Everything seems brighter, vibrant, and alive. The stars glow, the moon a spotlight in the dark sky, lighting my way deeper into the woods. The air is crisp, and the leaves rustle in the wind. Mystery and endless possibilities fill the night.
My goal is to stay out of his reach, and though Draven's strength, speed, and night vision give him the clear advantage, I have a plan. As I run barefoot through the forest, my mind is blank, incapable of rational thought. My body is humming, sharpening my survival instincts, and everything becomes more sensitive.
My mind switches from calculating logic to instinct. I'm calm and clear and find myself picking up on things I'd never usually notice. My vision, hearing, and sense of smell are in perfect harmony. Running in the dark brings my inner survivor closer to the surface, my instincts sharp and true.
My heart pounds in my chest, blood echoing with its own beat in my ears. I've planned this out, and when I reach the giant elm, I climb my way to a place where he won't see me. If my theory is correct, hiding above his head means he won't be able to use his sense of sight or smell to find me.
My breathing is ragged; the only other sound is the soft brush of his feet as he crosses the forest floor. Hidden among the branches, I watch as he moves through the forest, his steps careful but not overly cautious. His footsteps get louder as he stomps, noisily sending rocks careening off the path into the underbrush.
Climbing down from my hiding place, I spin and sprint in the opposite direction, making my way deeper into the forest. He takes off behind me, picking up the pace, his loping gait possessive and certain. He runs with sure steps, narrowing the distance between us, knowing he's in his domain.