152. Run, Little Rabbit

CHAPTER 152

RUN, LITTLE RABBIT

DEX

B y the next evening, I can feel the shift in the air between us. The tender quiet of the last few days has been healing, yes, but it’s not enough. Not for her, and sure as hell not for me. There’s a fire between us, something deeper, something primal, clawing to be unleashed.

I see it in Margaux’s eyes, even if she doesn’t yet. That unspoken need to feel alive again, to shed the shadows of fear and let herself be untamed. She’s still holding back, still chained by the echoes of everything he did to her.

I know what she needs, what we both need. Something raw .

Something that lets her feel the thrill of being hunted and the safety of being caught.

So I stand, leather gloves flexing over my hands, my voice cutting through the stillness like a blade: “Run,” I growl. “You have five minutes.”

Margaux’s eyes widen, her breath quickening. She’s frozen for a beat, trying to read me, Her chest rises and falls with rapid breaths, her pupils dilating as my words sink in. There’s no smile to soften the command, no hint of playfulness. She’s searching for the playful, reassuring glance that says this is just a game. But I give her nothing.

I stand tall, leather gloves flexing, my body taut with barely restrained energy.

The forest looms behind her, dark and alive. When realization sinks in, her lips part in surprise, and she bolts.

I watch her go, her red hair catching the moonlight, her form vanishing between the trees, the faint rustle of leaves marking her path. My chest tightens, my pulse pounding in anticipation, the primal hunter in me roaring to life. This isn’t just a game. It’s raw, unfiltered adrenaline. It’s about awakening something wild in her, something she doesn’t even realize she craves.

The predator in me stirs, growling for the chase. I take a long, slow breath and slip the mask over my face, the bottom half of a skull transforming me into something primal, something monstrous, not quite human. I pull on my gloves tighter, savoring the stretch of the leather over my hands. I glance at my watch, the seconds ticking by like a countdown to chaos as I give her the time she needs to think she has a chance.

She doesn’t.

This isn’t just about catching her—it’s about unleashing something raw, about pulling her from the shadows of fear and into the thrill of surrender.

When the timer beeps, I step into the woods. My boots crunch softly on the damp earth as I move between the towering trees. The forest is alive with sounds—the rustle of leaves, the whisper of wind through branches, the distant chirp of crickets, the creak of far-off trees—but I’m tuned to something more. I’m listening for her . The soft gasp of her breath, the erratic beat of her heart, the uneven rhythm of her steps as she weaves through the undergrowth, the occasional snap of a twig beneath her feet.

I move deliberately, each step calculated and silent. My boots barely disturb the forest floor as I close the distance. A faint gasp reaches my ears, and I adjust my course, veering to the left. She’s close.

A faint crack reaches my ears. A twig. My lips curve into a wicked smile beneath the mask. She’s trying to be quiet, but she doesn’t know how. Not like I do.

I shift my weight, moving swiftly toward the sound. My breath is steady, controlled, my movements precise. Another noise—a sharp intake of breath—carries on the wind. I’m getting closer. I adjust my pace, keeping her in my sights without revealing myself. Let her think she’s still hidden. Let the adrenaline surge through her veins.

I spot movement ahead—a flash of her pale skin in the moonlight, the sway of her gorgeous red hair as she glances over her shoulder. My pace quickens. The thrill of the chase tightens in my chest, my muscles coiled and ready to strike. She darts between trees, her breaths loud and ragged. Her panic is intoxicating.

I close the distance, and before she can react, I lunge forward, my hand shooting out and wrapping around her wrist.

She yelps as I yank her back, spinning her around, her body colliding with the rough bark of a tree. My gloved hand clamps around her throat, firm but careful, pinning her in place. Her wide eyes lock onto mine, and in the moonlight, I see everything—fear, exhilaration, and the unmistakable spark of arousal.

“Found you,” I growl, my voice rough and muffled through the mask.

Her chest heaves, her breaths shallow and rapid. She struggles weakly, testing my grip, but we both know it’s half-hearted. She wants this. I pull the zip ties from my pocket, the sound of plastic sharp and final. Her wrists are bound behind her back in seconds, the plastic biting into her soft skin. Her struggles stop. She’s trembling now, her body betraying her as her nipples harden against the thin fabric of her shirt, her scent thick and intoxicating in the cool night air. I press my gloved fingers to her cheek, tilting her head to make her look at me. Her trembling lips part, a soft whimper escaping.

“Good girl,” I murmur, my tone dark and approving.

I yank her pants down in one swift motion, exposing her bare pussy to the cool night air. My gloved fingers slide between her slick folds, and I curse under my breath. She’s soaked. My fingers glide easily, teasing her clit, and a low moan escapes her lips.

“You’re soaked. You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” I murmur, my voice dark and hungry.

Her breath catches. Her lips tremble, and she nods slightly, her gaze darting to my mask, unable to look away.

“Answer me,” I command, gripping her chin and forcing her to look at me.

“Y-yes,” she stammers, barely above a whisper, her voice shaky but filled with need.

I smirk beneath the mask and rip her top, the thin material shredding into tatters that I throw to the ground, baring her completely. Her soft, flushed skin glows in the moonlight, and I can’t resist lifting the mask and running my tongue along the curve of her collarbone. Her breasts rise and fall with each shallow breath, her nipples hard and aching for my touch.

Lowering my mask, I take one of her nipples into my mouth, biting gently, and her moan sends a bolt of heat straight to my cock. Her back arches against the tree as I consume her with my mouth, my hands, my dominance.

“God, you’re beautiful,” I murmur, softer now, my voice rough with desire.

Dropping to my knees, I spread her legs. My hot breath fans against her inner thighs. Her scent is intoxicating, and she shivers as I let my tongue flick against her in one long, slow lick, tasting her sweetness. She cries out, her hips bucking, but I stand and snap my hand up to her throat once more, pinning her in place.

“What do you say?” I ask, my tone commanding.

“Thank you, daddy,” she gasps, her voice trembling with need.

Her heart races, thudding so loudly I can hear it. The cool night air raises goosebumps on her skin, but heat courses through her.

“That’s my girl,” I growl, diving back in. My tongue works her relentlessly, teasing her clit and dipping into her entrance. Her cries grow louder, more desperate as they spill from her lips. Her thighs tremble against my face, her body growing tighter as she approaches the edge.

When she comes, it’s violent and all-consuming. Her cries echo through the forest, her body convulsing against my hold.

But I don’t stop. My tongue continues its relentless assault, dragging her toward another climax until she’s writhing against the tree, her legs barely holding her up. “Dex,” she gasps, squirming against my mouth, her clit throbbing with sensitivity from her earlier orgasm. “I—wait—too much.”

I ignore her pleas, my hands gripping her hips to hold her steady. Instead, I keep licking and sucking her clit until she shatters, coming again, even stronger this time. Her body shakes uncontrollably, and she cries out as a gush of wetness spills all over my face. Finally, I pull back, my lips glistening, and I smirk. I wipe my mouth with the back of my glove. “That’s my good girl.”

Her chest heaves, her legs barely holding her up, her lips parted and trembling. Before she can catch her breath, I stand, unzipping my pants. My cock springs free, thick and pulsing, and her mouth waters at the sight.

“On your knees,” I command, pulling her to the ground.

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