“Good little deer.” Each word is clipped, tight, as if Shane’s barely holding it together. “Coming so hard on my co—”

The praise turns into a groan, his thrusts becoming more frenzied. He’s somehow harder, somehow thicker, the wildness of his movements making me wonder if I might come again, roll this orgasm right into another one. When he lets out a choked “Fuck,” the decision is out of my hands. I’m coming, falling into an abyss of pleasure as deep as the first.

This time, he comes with me, a feral sound leaving his mouth as his cock jerks inside me. I’m being filled. His hand clamps tighter and tighter, spurring a half-strangled noise from me as I struggle for air.

He releases my throat, and I drop my face to the ground. He collapses on top of me, his heart beating against my back. My leggings are around my ankles, shirt and sneakers still on. Reality begins to slip back in. What happens now? Margot made it sound like Shane would just leave. Will he actually walk off without a word?

He cuts into my thoughts, answering one of my questions. “Are you okay?”

“Fuck yes.” My voice is breathless, and I heat at his low chuckle.

He’s moving, lifting his weight off me. He hops up with more energy than anyone should have after what we just did. My movements are slower, and I ease to my feet, aided by his helping hand. Cum slides down my inner thigh, and I go to wipe it away—but Shane’s quicker.

Reaching down, he captures it with two fingers, pressing it back inside me. My pussy spasms on instinct, and his eyes dart from between my legs to my face. There’s something untamed about his look. It steals my breath. Leaves me staring back, my brain buffering while he works his fingers in and out of me. The movements are lazy, but they make my legs tremble with aftershocks of pleasure.

When he withdraws his fingers, they gleam in the sunlight. His cum and my arousal blended into slickness. Lifting his index finger to his mouth, he licks it clean. I’m focused on his tongue, remembering it lapping arousal from other, more pleasurable places. His lips twist into a smirk when he extends his hand to me, middle finger dripping with us. Gripping his wrist, I guide his hand into my mouth. Sucking it clean makes his eyes darken, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. I take my time, swirling my tongue around his fingertip before I release him.

“Delicious.” My voice doesn’t sound like me.

Shane stares for another second before stepping back with the smallest shake of his head. “Do you know how to get back to the house?”

I nod. I’m confident I can make it back. Even if I weren’t, I wouldn’t admit it. I’d rather figure it out alone. He wants the hunt, nothing else. A post-sex stroll through the woods seems like a level of intimacy he’d rather skip. He looks uncertain, the expression out of place on his face. I wonder if he’s feeling guilty about leaving me.

“Think I’m going to walk around a bit,” I say, leaning down to tug up my torn leggings, abruptly realizing I’ve just been standing here, pussy to the wind, in my post-orgasm fugue state. “Get the lay of the land for next time.” As I say it, I realize I should do some exploring, see how I can use the topography to my benefit.

“All right.” Running a hand through his tousled hair, he gives me a grin that’s so boyish it makes my chest tight. It’s the first time I’ve seen his real smile. A dimple dents his left cheek, making him cute in a way I wouldn’t expect a man with a massive cock and a penchant for rough sex to be. “See you later.”

I make a sound of confirmation in my throat. Actual words might give me away, reveal I’m flustered. I’m not sure what it means about me that I can suck cum and arousal off his finger shamelessly, but a dimple has me ready to blush. Crouching, I pretend to tie my sneakers, watching Shane head back toward the deer path.

God, he’s big.

He has broad shoulders, a thick waist, and legs that look as sturdy as the tree trunks around us. I think I could climb him, and it wouldn’t slow him down. Even as I’m admiring, there’s a part of me analyzing his movements, trying to figure out how to use his size against him.

I hope he enjoyed today. He’ll never catch me this easily again.

EIGHT Shane

It’s day four—two days since I fucked Claire in the field—and there hasn’t been a waking moment where thoughts of her haven’t filled my mind. I can’t stop thinking about the encounter, about her. I suspected the other women I attempted this with were a poor substitute for the real thing, and I was more than right. With Claire, the reality of hunting her was a thousand times better than my fantasies. In my fantasies, she never had that wild look in her eyes, didn’t make sounds so sweet my cock twitches just remembering them. Her pussy didn’t spasm around me each time I told her what a good little deer she was. There’s no going back to fantasizing now that I’ve had her.

Work is getting in the way, though. I love my job, to the point where it’s caused the demise of every relationship I’ve had as an adult, but this week it feels like an unwelcome distraction. I’ve stayed past midnight the past two nights, which is nothing unusual, but now I resent it. I’m irritated, craving her taste. I only have her for thirty days, and I’m losing time. Today, I’m leaving at five, work be damned.

Two hours to go.

This morning, Claire was in the kitchen when I went to grab breakfast and coffee for the road. Sitting at the table in a hoodie emblazoned with the name of an elementary school and a cartoon velociraptor, her hair up in a messy bun, she looked like she belonged there. She gave me a smile that stopped my heart before nodding at my clothing.

“You don’t look ready for the woods. Those fancy shoes will slow you down.”

That made Gretchen chuckle and warmth slither up the back of my neck. Gretchen and Margot know why she’s here, but it isn’t something we regularly talk about. When Gretchen stepped out, I leaned in close enough to smell Claire’s shampoo, dropping my voice to a whisper. “If you’re the prey, nothing is capable of slowing me down.”

A flush crept up the front of her throat, making the bruise I’d left on her neck glow an angry red. Seeing the mark made some animal inside me roar with pride. Mine, the creature gloated, all mine. That was a new feeling. It left me trying to hide a rapidly growing erection behind my briefcase when Gretchen came back in.

I check my phone. Only fifteen minutes have passed. Fucking hell.

I need coffee.

It’s a good excuse to get up and move. Clear my head. I need to reset my brain so I can focus on work, not Claire and how she’s waiting for me at home.

I’m pleased to find the kitchen empty but less impressed when the coffeepot is too. Refilling something after using the last of it doesn’t seem like it should be a challenging concept, but at least half of my colleagues can’t figure it out. There are a few who legitimately might not be able to operate the high-tech machine, but the rest have no excuse. After giving the pot a quick wash, I start the coffee maker. The firm’s kitchen is modern and spacious, painted in neutral tones with sleek gunmetal appliances. A gray granite island sits in the center, surrounded by chairs. It’s a pleasant surprise that there isn’t someone in here taking a call, working on a laptop, or socializing.

Settling in at the island, I appreciate the near silence—there are only the sounds of the coffee maker and air-conditioning. I focus on the soft noises, using them to settle my brain. Footsteps come from the hall. Before I can wonder who they belong to, Tanner Crowe, a partner and the worst pretend-not-to-see-an-empty-coffeepot offender, steps into the kitchen. I’m glad it’s him. Tanner’s one of the few people at the firm I like enough to interact with outside of work activities, though I wouldn’t call us close friends. I’m about to say something along the lines of You would show up now that I’m making coffee when Keith walks in behind him.