Run Little Fawn (Hunter’s Mark #1)

Chapter 16

THE HUNTER

My hand finds the small of her back as she fumbles with the keycard, a smirk playing on my lips.

The little fawn is nervous, her cheeks flushed, pulse fluttering beneath porcelain skin. I lean in, breath hot against her ear. "Need some help?"

She shivers, a delicious tremor. "I've got it." The lock beeps and she pushes inside.

I follow, a wolf stalking his prey right into the den.

The door slams shut. I spin her, pinning her against it, one hand above her head. Wide emerald eyes stare up at me, darkening with desire even as her breath catches. My other hand traces along her jaw, thumb brushing her full bottom lip.

"I believe you owe me a prize, little fawn."

"Is that so?" Her voice is breathless, but there's a hint of defiance. Good.

I dip my head, hovering a hair's breadth from her lips. "Indeed it is. But don't worry, I'll be gentle... at first."

Then I claim her mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing her gasp. She tastes like sin and honey. I want to devour her. Slender fingers tangle in my hair as she arches into me, all soft curves against hard planes.

I lift her easily, wrapping soft thighs around my waist. She makes the most delicious little whimper. Carrying her to the bed, I lay her down amongst the pillows, climbing over her.

I've never wanted anyone the way I want her. It's a hunger, an ache in my very bones. If she knew the truth of who I am, what I am...

No. I won't let such thoughts ruin this.

"You're wearing too many clothes," she murmurs, tugging at my shirt.

I flash a wicked grin. "Eager, are we? I can fix that."

I sit back on my heels, slowly unbuttoning my shirt, revealing the tattoos and scars that map my skin. Her eyes roam over me, appreciation and curiosity mingling.

"Like what you see?" I purr, shrugging out of the fabric and tossing it aside.

She props herself up on her elbows, a coy smile curving her lips. "You're not so bad. For a psychopath."

I laugh, low and dark. "Flattery will get you everywhere, little fawn." My hands find her hips, thumbs stroking through the fabric of her dress. "Although I prefer 'morally ambiguous.'"

"Is that what we're calling it these days?" Her voice is teasing, but there's an undercurrent of something else.

Nervousness, perhaps.

Or excitement.

Bending down, I nuzzle into her neck, placing open-mouthed kisses along the column of her throat. She tilts her head back, a breathy sigh escaping her.

"We can call it whatever you like," I murmur against her skin. "As long as you scream it for me later."

She shivers again and I smile. My teeth scrape her pulse point. Not enough to mark, but enough to promise. Her fingers dig into my shoulders.

I take my time undressing her, savoring each new expanse of creamy flesh revealed. She's a vision in the amber lamplight, hair spilled across the pillow, kiss-swollen lips parted. An angel at the mercy of a demon.

And I am hungry. So very, very hungry.

But I hold back, determined to unravel her slowly. To make her beg and plead and fall apart beneath my hands, my mouth. Only when she's mindless with pleasure will I finally claim my prize.

After all, I am nothing if not a patient hunter.

I can't get enough of her scent.

The sweet fragrance of her desire mixes with the musky scent of her fear. The combination is heady, making me light-headed.

I resist the urge to bury my face in her neck and breathe her in. Instead, I trail kisses along her shoulder, down her arm, mapping every inch of her with my lips and tongue.

She tastes of sin and something sweeter. I want to devour her, to consume her completely.

My hands shake with the effort of holding back, of not marking her delicate skin with my teeth. I've never felt this way before—this desperation, this need.

It's both thrilling and terrifying.

With a trembling hand, I reach for my knife, the one I keep sheathed at my thigh. The handle is smooth under my fingers, the metal cold and familiar. The blade glints in the low light, reflecting the fire in her eyes as she watches me.

For a moment, I see wariness there, a flash of fear as she takes in the weapon. But then I smile, slow and predatory, and she understands. This is not a threat. It's a promise.

The knife is sharp, the edge glimmering silver. With a gentle touch, I bring the tip to the edge of her panties on her left hip, slipping it underneath. The sound of tearing cotton fills the room, followed by her sharp intake of breath.

"Don't worry, little fawn," I murmur, my lips brushing her ear. "I won't hurt you. Not like that."

Her chest rises and falls rapidly, the soft mounds of her breasts tantalizingly close to my mouth. I want to taste her there, to hear her moan my name as I bring her pleasure. But not yet.

I force myself to focus, sliding the knife along the edge of her underwear on her other hip until it too snaps under the razor sharp blade.

I waste no time, my hands urgently pushing the scraps of fabric away, baring her to me. She's perfect, her skin luminous in the soft light. I want to worship her, to memorize every inch.

Lowering my head, I press open-mouthed kisses along her stomach, delighting in the way her muscles clench at the touch.

Her eyes, wide and dark, reflect the fire in my own as I drag the dull edge of the blade across her skin, teasing, tempting.

The knife leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake, a path of anticipation. I revel in her reaction, the way her breath catches, the way her body arches slightly toward me, seeking more.

Aria is a canvas, and I want to paint her with pleasure. With each stroke of the knife, I explore her, mapping the contours of her body for the first time.

I trace the delicate outline of her collarbone, the gentle slope of her shoulders, the curve of her breasts. The knife hovers, tantalizingly close to her peaks, but I don't touch them.

Not yet.

She squirms beneath me, a mix of excitement and apprehension. "What are you doing?" Her voice is a whisper, thick with desire.

"Just enjoying the view, little fawn." My lips curve in a dangerous smile. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this."

It's true. I've fantasized about this moment, about having her at my mercy, willing and wanting.

She's a temptation I can't resist, an addiction I don't want to cure.

The blade skates lower, across her ribs, and I pause, letting the flat of the knife rest against the rapid beat of her heart. Her pulse flutters like a captive butterfly against my palm.

I could crush her so easily, but instead, I run the tip of the knife over the smooth, lush curve of her hip.

Her scent surrounds me, filling my head with the perfume of her arousal as I get closer to her pussy. The heady musk sends a rush of blood coursing through my veins.

Aria is a drug, and I'm already addicted.

She's art, a masterpiece, and I can't help but admire what I have exposed. I press a kiss to her inner thigh, relishing the taste of her skin, the feel of her softness against my lips.

I want to devour her, to taste every inch of her body, but I force myself to be patient, to draw out this delicious torture.

Teasingly, I drag the dull edge of the knife up her leg, relishing the way her muscles tense and relax with each passing caress. Her skin is a roadmap of sensations, each touch a new discovery.

Her breath quickens, her hands threading through my hair, guiding me where she wants me. "Please," she whispers, the word both a plea and a demand.

I chuckle darkly, my lips brushing the delicate skin of her hip. "I told you that you'd be begging for it before the night was through, didn't I?"

"Fine, you win," she admits, her voice shaking. "Touch me. Now."

Her demand sends a thrill through me. This fawn of mine is a delight, a treasure.

My lips find her hip once more, tasting the salt of her skin. Slowly, I kiss a path back up her body.

Her scent, a mix of desire and fear, fills my lungs. I want to inhale her sweet cunt, brand her scent into my memory forever. She stirs beneath me, her breath coming in short, quick gasps. I pause, looking up at her. Her eyes are heavy-lidded, dark with need. Lips parted, cheeks flushed, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

I see the plea in her eyes, the silent begging. She wants me to touch her, to drive her over the edge, but I won't give in.

Not yet.

I want to draw out this exquisite torture for as long as I can. It's a game, a delicious dance of desire and restraint.

I want her desperate, frantic, utterly mine.

A low, hungry sound rumbles in my throat as I nuzzle the junction between her neck and shoulder, scraping my teeth over her pulse.

She whimpers, a soft, broken sound that goes straight to my cock. I'm hard as steel, throbbing with the need to be inside her, to feel the slick heat of her around me.

But first, I have a different kind of punishment in mind.

With a slow, deliberate movement, I slide the blade back down her body, placing it at her center. Her hips buck involuntarily, a silent plea for more. I chuckle, the sound rough and filled with dark promise.

"So eager, little fawn. But we're not quite there yet."

Her eyes fly open at the words, a spark of worry entering their green depths.

Does she think I'll use the blade on her? My fawn is learning that there are many ways to be marked. Many ways to be claimed.

The hilt of my knife is solid, smooth, and just the right size to prepare her. I lift her legs, placing her ankles on my shoulders, baring her to me in a way that has her blushing and squirming.

Perfect.

"What are you—?" she starts to ask, but her words turn into a moan as I press the carved wooden hilt to her core.

"Shhh," I murmur, nuzzling her neck. "This will feel better if you relax." With a slow, deliberate movement, I rub the hilt against her, back and forth, teasing, tantalizing.

Her hips arch off the bed, her body instinctively seeking more. A strangled cry escapes her throat, half-protest and half-plea. "Lucian..."

"Yes, fawn?" I whisper, not stopping, but increasing the pressure, the pace.

"More," she whispers, her voice hoarse with need. "Please, I need more."

I lean down, my mouth claiming hers in a fierce kiss as I continue to torture her with the hilt of my knife.

She tastes of sweetness and need, and I swallow her cries, her pleas. My fawn is desperate now, wild and wanton, and it's all for me. The thought sends a surge of possessiveness through me.

I position the hilt of my knife at her entrance and slowly, deliberately, push it inside her, inch by exquisite inch.

She clenches around it, hot and wet, trying to pull it deeper. I want to thrust, to claim her, but I force myself to be patient, to keep the pace slow and relentless.

Her fingers dig into my shoulders, nails scraping my skin as she cries out, her back arching off the bed. "Lucian, please! More—"

"As you wish, pet," I murmur, withdrawing almost completely before thrusting slowly back inside. I set a relentless pace, my arm muscles flexing as I use the hilt of my knife to fuck her. She's tight around it, her inner walls quivering, and she meets each thrust with a mewl or a cry.

The heady scent of her arousal fills the room, mixing with the musk of our bodies. Her breath comes in short gasps, her skin gleaming with a light sheen of sweat.

I want to mark that perfect skin, to leave my teeth marks on her, to brand her as mine, but I hold back. I won't give in to that urge... not yet.

Instead, I focus on the way she looks spread out before me. I commit to memory the way her breasts rise and fall with each ragged breath, the way her head tosses from side to side, her eyes closed in concentration. I want to drink in the sight of her, to etch it into my memory forever.

With a final, desperate cry, she shatters, her body convulsing around the hilt of my knife. Her release washes over me, her inner muscles clenching and relaxing as she rides out her orgasm.

I slow my movements, drawing out her pleasure, reveling in the way she comes apart at my hands. My little fawn, reduced to a quivering mess by my touch.

The knife. My faithful companion for so many years now. Its cold, hard surface is a contrast to her soft, yielding heat, and yet, together, we bring her pleasure.

I withdraw the hilt from her body slowly, enjoying the way her inner muscles clench around it, reluctant to let go. Her breath is ragged, her eyes heavy with the aftermath of release.

But we're not done yet. Oh, no. There's still so much to explore.

I sit up, drawing the knife from between us and bringing it to my mouth. I lick her essence from the metal, savoring the taste of her.

She whimpers at the sight, her eyes fluttering closed as her cheeks flush a delicate pink. I see the desire burning in her, a wildfire waiting to be stoked once more. I set the knife aside; my hands and mouth are all that's needed now.

"My turn," I whisper, my voice rough with need. She shivers at the words, her gaze locking with mine.

There's a challenge in her eyes, a silent dare. Does she think I won't take what's mine? Does she think I'll show mercy?

I push her legs apart, spreading her wide for me. I want to brand her with my touch, mark her as irrevocably mine.

No longer gentle, my hands grasp her thighs, holding her open for me. I lean down, my mouth replacing my hands, and I taste her. She's a feast, and I devour her with urgency. My nose dips into the well of her arousal as my tongue takes her hole and I inhale deeply, wanting to breathe her into me.

Her hands tangle in my hair, her hips bucking as I swirl my tongue around her most sensitive bundle of nerves. She moans, a melody of pleasure that spurs me on.

But it's not enough. I need to be inside her, to feel her around me, engulfing me.

Her taste lingers on my tongue as I pull away just before she can reach climax a second time, a maddening mix of sweetness and lust.

My fawn is wild beneath me now, her hands clutching at the sheets, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Her eyes, dark and unfocused, hold a question, a silent plea for more.

The challenge in her gaze has only fueled my desire, stoking the fire that rages in my veins. She wants to be branded, marked as mine, and that is exactly what I intend to do.

"Beautiful," I whisper, my voice raw as I take in the sight of her spread open for me, her silken cunt dripping with pleasure. "Absolutely beautiful."

I lean down, nuzzling her neck, scraping my teeth over the sensitive skin there. Her pulse flutters beneath my lips and it's all I can do to hold myself back from sinking my teeth in as deep as my tongue just went.

My hands glide over her thighs, spreading her open wider for me, exposing her in the most intimate way. She's a revelation, a secret laid bare, and the power I hold over her in this moment is absolute.

The knowledge that I can push her further, that I can take her to the edge and beyond, is a heady drug.

I won't deny that I enjoy her desperation, the way she arches into me, seeking more. She's a creature of pure desire now, all inhibitions burned away.

Her fingers dig into my shoulders, her ankles locking at the small of my back as she holds on for the ride. In this moment, she's entirely mine, and the thought sends a surge of possession through me.

I want to thrust into her, to feel the slick heat of her envelope me, but I hold back, teasing us both.

Instead, I slide my fingers along her inner thighs, relishing the way her muscles tremble at my touch. She's a tightly coiled spring, wound so tight that the slightest touch will send her spiraling into oblivion.

Deliberately, I brush my fingers over her center, a whisper-soft caress that has her crying out. "Lucian," she moans, her voice thick with need. "Please. I need you."

"Are you begging?" I murmur, my voice a low purr.

Her eyes flash with rage, but lust quickly drowns it out. "Yes," she pants, the word a delicious concession on those luscious lips. "Yes, I am."

That's all I need to hear.

I position myself at her entrance, teasing her with the tip of my cock. Her eyes flash open, a spark of wildfire in their emerald depths.

She holds my gaze as I slowly, slowly begin to push inside her. She's tight, scalding hot, and it takes every ounce of my control to go slowly, to give her time to adjust to my size.

With each inch, she whimpers, her head tossing from side to side. Her fingers scrape down my back, nails leaving trails of fire across my skin.

Finally, I'm sheathed inside her, buried to the hilt. I pause, giving her a moment to get used to the feeling of being stretched around me.

Then I begin to move.

It's a slow, relentless rhythm at first, building in intensity with each thrust. Her hips rise to meet mine, a lithe, eager motion that has me growling with satisfaction.

The heady scent of our passion fills the room, a musk that speaks of primal need and raw, untouched desire. I want to brand her with my scent.

Her breath comes in short gasps now, her body arching off the bed to meet my thrusts. With each movement, I go deeper, hitting that spot that has her crying out, her fingers tightening in my hair.

"Lucian!" she screams, her body shuddering around me.

"Mine."

The word rumbles from my chest, a feral growl as I claim what rightfully belongs to me.

Her eyes widen at the primal sound, a spark of fear mingling with the desire in their emerald depths. I see her swallow, her delicate throat working, but she doesn't look away.

This fawn of mine is brave, daring me to go further.

I lean down, my lips brushing hers as I thrust into her with deliberate slowness. "You're mine, Aria. Never forget that."

My breath fans her face, and I savor the way her body tightens around me, her inner walls clenching as if to pull me deeper. "Say it."

"Yours," she whispers, the word a concession, an acceptance of what she is to me.

A thrill races through me at her surrender, but it's not enough. I want more. I want her screaming my name, begging me for release. With a growl, I pull back, only to snap my hips forward, claiming her with a relentless pace.

"Lucian, please..." Her voice is a plea, a demand, and a song to my soul. Her fingers tighten in my hair, her ankles locking around my back once more as she meets my thrusts with an eager motion.

I tighten my grip on her thighs, holding her open and vulnerable to me as I pound into her. "You like that, don't you, little fawn?" I tease, my lips curving in a cruel smile as I watch her face contort with pleasure.

She nods, her eyes squeezed shut as she bites her lip, stifling a moan.

"Let me hear you, Aria. Scream my name." I want to hear her lose control, to know that I'm the one who pushed her over the edge.

Her hands fly to her mouth, a futile attempt to muffle the building scream as her eyes widen, her body tensing. "Lucian!"

"Yes, fawn?" I nuzzle her neck, my breath hot against her skin as I continue to move within her, riding out her wave of pleasure.

"Again," she pants, her body glistening with a lovely sheen of sweat. "Please..."

I chuckle darkly, my voice rough and filled with satisfaction. "As you wish, little fawn." I pull out slowly, only to thrust back into her even harder.

The mattress groans beneath us with each powerful thrust, the headboard slamming against the wall in a steady, rhythmic beat. Her nails dig into my shoulders, leaving crescents that will linger.

Not nearly long enough.

I think briefly of having them tattooed, just as a reminder of how thoroughly fucked and conquered she looks beneath me in this moment.

And I'll leave my mark on her in more ways than one.

Her cries fill the room, a symphony of pleasure and surrender. "Lucian, I—" Her words turn into a strangled moan as I hit a spot deep within her that has her back arching off the bed.

I slow my movements, dragging out her pleasure as I explore her body with my hands. "Come for me again, my beautiful fawn," I whisper, my lips brushing her ear. "Let me feel you shatter around me."

Her body tightens like a coiled spring, every muscle tense and ready to snap. Her breath comes in short, quick gasps, her eyes fluttering closed as she seeks that precipice once more.

This time, I'm ready to follow her over.

As her body clenches around me, I release her lips, my own breath coming in short, sharp bursts. I nuzzle her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin, now damp with perspiration.

Slowly, agonizingly, I withdraw, only to thrust back into her, my pace relentless. Each movement sends shock waves of pleasure through me, but I hold back, wanting to push her higher, to see her soar.

The air between us is heavy, filled with the musk of our passion. Her breath is a jagged counterpoint to the steady, insistent rhythm of our bodies. I growl, my voice a mere shadow of the beast stirring within. "Mine," I assert again, claiming her lips with a fierce kiss.

She meets my thrusts with an equal hunger, her body yielding to my possession. Her softness envelops me, drawing me deeper, holding me captive. With each stroke, I feel a primal satisfaction, a sense of ownership that goes beyond the physical.

This fawn is mine, body and soul.

Her head falls back, baring her delicate throat. Her neck is pale, inviting, and I can't resist the urge to mark it. Gently, I nip at the pulse point, feeling the frantic beat of her heart against my lips.

"Lucian," she moans, her voice thick with need. "More. Harder."

A dark smile curls my lips. I can give her harder. I pull back, grasping her hips, and thrust into her with all the force I possess. The bed creaks in protest, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful stroke. Her cry of pleasure fills the room, a music that only spurs me on.

With each thrust, I claim her further, branding her as mine. The pleasure builds, an inferno raging in my veins, but I hold back the tide, wanting to extend this moment for as long as possible.

Her emerald eyes fly open, meeting mine. There is a challenge in her gaze, but also a trust that I won't break her. I lean down, my lips brushing her ear.

"Come for me again, little fawn," I command, my voice raw with need. "Show me what I do to you."

A strangled cry escapes her, her body tensing on the edge of oblivion. "Lucian! Oh, fuck, Lucian!" Her release washes over me, her inner muscles clenching and releasing, milking me.

I can't hold back any longer. My own orgasm builds, a tidal wave of sensation threatening to overwhelm me. With one last powerful thrust, I follow her over the edge, crying out her name as I find my release. My body shudders, spent, but my arms remain steadfast, holding her close.

The aftermath washes over us, leaving us breathless, sated.

I lean my forehead against hers, our sweat-dampened skin creating a sweet connection. Her eyes are closed, her expression soft, vulnerable.

"You are exquisite, my fawn," I murmur, my voice hoarse. "Absolutely perfect."

She offers me a lazy smile, her cheeks still flushed with the aftermath of pleasure. "You're not so bad yourself, Hunter," she pants. Her fingers trace idle patterns on my back, her touch sending shivers down my spine.

Her words are a cold reminder of our reality beyond these walls, however unintentional.

I am the Hunter, and she is my prey, ensnared in my web.

And with each touch, I weave the web tighter, binding her to me.

Eventually, there will be no escape, but tonight… tonight, claiming her this way will have to be enough.