Chapter 43
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
TRISTAN
I said I love to play games. I never said I play fair.
The tracker sewn into the hem of Daphne’s robe shows me she’s gone northeast. She’s slowed her pacing, and I think she stopped running.
That’ll be her first mistake.
Wheeling my chair back from my computer setup, I pick up my ghostly masquerade mask from the desk. I slip it on and flip up the hood of my grey zip-up hoodie.
This is the perfect opportunity to see if she loves the reality of a masked man as much as she loves the fantasy. I stroll past the pool, beyond the guest house, and lift the latch on my backyard fence. The floodlights stay off since I shut them down for the next hour.
Checking my tracker, Daphne’s headed north now, so I trek through the woods. Twigs break under my boots. The bursting orange and red leaves are diluted in the morning fog. A chill hovers in the air, but it’s warm for November, and I couldn’t have picked a better morning.
Daphne makes a sharp turn west, so I follow. She’s only ten minutes into our game, and I’ve got her right where I want her. About two hundred yards ahead.
My skin buzzes with excitement now as I tuck the tracker into my pocket to make this a more legitimate hunt for my woman.
Awareness hums through me like a revving engine as I scan through the trees, the fog clouding my view.
A flash of bright green streaks off in the distance, and I stop walking.
Leaves rustle as Daphne dashes further away from me.
A smile creeps under my mask. I’ve got her right where I want her.
I run, following the sounds of snapping twigs up ahead until another streak of emerald darts out from behind a tree. Daphne takes off, her pale hair whipping behind her like a curtain in the wind.
She looks back at me, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and excitement.
So I stop and tilt my head at her. She knows she’s caught. So I let her go and give her a chance to escape.
She bolts around a cluster of trees and up, over a ridge.
I follow. My heart hammers hard as I run faster now until a cloudy emerald figure disappears into the fog again.
Twigs stop cracking, and I pause.
There’s silence.
“There’s no point in hiding,” I call out. “I know where you are.” I mean, I have a rough idea of where she is, and all I need is one sound to tell me exactly where she’s hiding.
I can outrun her easily, but where’s the fun in that?
“Remember what I told you the day we met?” I take a few steps forward, but she stays silent.
“When a woman’s turned on, we know.” Something in my gut draws me to the clump of trees on the left.
And that’s when I see it. A slice of the emerald robe tie poking out from around a large trunk. I step closer and leaves rustle under my boots. I don’t care if I give my position away.
“And you smell, Princess.” I stop on the other end of the tree trunk. “So fucking sweet.”
I turn my head.
And see a lot of nothing.
Her robe tie sits discarded, maybe to distract me.
I scrunch it up and stuff it in my back pocket. Leaves rustle behind me, and Daphne’s robe billows behind her as she hurries down a hill.
She’s clever. I’ll give her that.
I chase, but trip on an uplifted tree root and nearly faceplant into a bush. I catch myself and keep upright as Daphne runs in the direction of the house.
Alright, that’s enough. I’m starving. I want to bury my face between her legs and pound into her like an animal. I’m done playing with my food.
My heart hammers as I dash towards her, closing the distance more and more with every step. The fog doesn’t matter anymore now that she’s so close.
She makes the mistake of looking back. Her blue eyes flash, and she stumbles.
And that’s enough for me to close the distance.
“Gotcha.” I grab her wrist and yank her toward me, but the action makes us both tumble. Daphne falls backward, landing with an ‘oomph.’ Her elbow knocks into my chest and knocks the wind out of me so suddenly that my lungs burn.
“Son of a bitch,” I cough.
Daphne struggles to stand, but I grab her ankle, and she falls onto a pile of leaves.
I crawl over to her and grip both of her wrists, flipping her onto her back.
Her eyes sparkle up at me, and her chest heaves against the soft fabric of her satin nightie.
Keeping both of her wrists pinned down, I grip the thin strap of her nightie and tug.
Ripping fabric and the snap of thread are music as the satin slips down low, revealing one of her glorious breasts.
Her hard nipple points to the sky, and I release her wrists to dip my head low and suck the tight peak into my mouth.
Daphne whimpers, her back arching as her fingers clutch the back of my hood and keep my head there.
“Tristan,” she moans when the tip of my tongue flicks ever so lightly across her nipple.
I release her from my mouth. “What makes you think I’m Tristan?” I tease. “I could be anyone.”
She smirks. Of course, it’s me.
She shoves me back with surprising force and darts to her feet. Something pointy jabs into my side, and I’ve nearly been impaled on a dull branch. That’s going to leave a bruise.
I reach up and grab the hem of Daphne’s robe as I stand.
The robe slips from her shoulders and flutters into my hand as she runs away.
Well, damnit. Her nightie doesn’t have a tracker. I’ll have to follow her now.
Getting to my feet, I clutch the robe as I run behind her.
She glances over her shoulder, and I can see her tit bouncing freely with each step, and it’s fucking torture. She’s out of reach, so I pick up speed beyond a leisurely jog. The air is stiff, and my breath fogs my chin behind the mask. Damn, I wish these stupid things were more breathable.
In seconds, I grab her wrist and pull her back against me. But she’s ready for it, and her elbow jerks backward. I sidestep her attack in time to avoid a knock to the solar plexus. Grabbing under her arm, I hold her steady before my foot swipes under hers, knocking her legs out from under her.
She tumbles towards the ground, but I quickly sit her on top of me to take the brunt of the fall.
My hip and elbow dig into the dirt, and a twig pokes me in the shoulder.
A dull ache blossoms over those spots. I’m going to end up with bruises, but I don’t give a fuck.
They’re a badge of honor as far as I’m concerned—war medals with the fight Daphne’s putting up.
She squirms, trying to get out of my grasp, so I carefully turn her over onto her back and pin her down, my hands around her wrists as I dig her hands into the forest floor.
“Did you think you could outrun me?” I say in a teasing voice.
Daphne’s panting, her chest rising and falling in heavy bursts. Her nipple is puckered tight in the chill of the morning air.
Damn mask. I want to lick it—take the little bud in my mouth and toy with it until she’s moaning and stops putting up a fake fight.
Oh well. This is her fantasy. And I’m going to enjoy my reward.
“I know I can outrun you,” Daphne snaps.
I laugh as she wiggles against me.
I notch my hips against hers, hoping to still her, but the friction against my hard cock is intense. Christ, I could come in my fucking jeans if she keeps this up.
I’m not a two-pump chump. I’ll get my shit together. This is for her.
Okay, maybe for me too. This is fucking hot.
Daphne’s blue eyes shine with a mix of lust and excitement. There’s no fear in her, despite her attempts to shove me off her. Her legs flail at my sides, her slippers flinging off into the woods somewhere. I lean in so she can’t get a good foothold anywhere on me.
“You wanted to be hunted?” I lower my voice with a hint of a growl.
Daphne shivers—literally shivers under me as her fight weakens. Her skin’s warm under my palms, and the heat radiating between her legs is so damn inviting.
“You wanted me to chase you down like prey?”
“Yes.” Her confession comes out as a strained gasp on those plush lips.
“You got your wish, Princess. Now, I’m claiming my prize.”