Primal Pursuit

When the text finally appeared minutes ago, the one stating the game starts now, I lit up. I fucking exploded with excitement, and it’s still buzzing in my veins. It’s getting stronger the longer I choose not to text him back. The butterflies inside twist and dance, and I can feel that heat and pulse of anticipation, the bittersweetness of an ache between my legs, wanting—no,needinghis touch.

I’m not supposed to feel this way. I’m meant to be measured, get off on the thrill of ending it, and nothing more. The excitement that burns at the idea of being chased, fighting him, being caught, and taken roughly, even violently, by him is overwhelming. It starts and ends with the craving for his touch and the adrenaline of flight and fight.

This is meant to be a damn job. And I’m the one who’s maneuvering him, not the other way.

My phone pings. And pings.

With a deep, steady breath, my fingers alive with tingling nerves and my heart beating like a trapped, wild animal, I take the water and head back to the living room, the phone on the sofa.

Get your package. It’s your right hand…man.

I frown at his message.

Okay, so he’s left something at St. Brigid for me. To the right of…the priest? The statue? No…no, the door. He wants me to go in.

Shit, I hate that he knows where I live, or the proximity. Then again, I’m sure that silver car is how he’s keeping tabs on me. And his silence is to make me jump through his burning hoops.

I’m going to truss up my rabbit and take her on an adventure.

My heart beats faster as I type.

Maybe I’m recasting myself as the wolf.

You’re running out of time, rabbit.

Maybe I’m not interested.

He doesn’t respond for two minutes.

I bet my rabbit is nice and wet.

Stick your hand in your panties and take a photo.

Now.

A horrible thrill passes through me, and I’m both turned on and appalled at the fact that I’m considering doing exactly what he just ordered. Should I do it and keep the wolf entertained? Should I not do it and keep my dignity intact?

Who the hell are you kidding? He’s fucked the dignity out of you the first time.

I stand, shuck off my jeans and I do it. I put my hand in my panties, pulling them to the side so he can see a tease of my sex. Something to whet the wolf’s appetite.

I snap and send, my heart racing a million miles a minute.

Fingers inside you. Pretend they’re mine.

Video.

Fuck. I know it’s beyond stupid, to send him homemade porn, but he’s also taken photos of me with dildos andvibrators in both my holes. I don’t think this is going to stop him, and…

My clit beats with need.

“Screw it.” I pull the panties—pretty, floral, lacy ones in soft colors—to the side and switch to video. My pulse is thrumming, and I start to stroke myself, watching the video as it records. It’s beyond hot, pretending my fingers are his, knowing this is for him. Knowing Davian’s dialed up watching, or will be when I send. I did not think this would turn me on as much as it does.

I thrust two fingers in and out, and they’re slick and shining with arousal. Slipping my thumb down, I get that wet, then bring it up to my clit and start to stroke.

A moan slips free, and I’m sliding up the scale toward orgasm. Fast.

I want to come, I need it, and it’s not my hand, it’s Davian’s. It’s his fingers working me. The camera of my phone is his eyes, his gaze solid on my pussy as he tells me what a dirty whore I am. That I’m his whore. His slut. How he’s going to fuck me just as soon as I come on his fingers.