Then laughter.
Low. Dark. Familiar.
“You fucking left me out here for hours!” I shout.
“Peaceful, isn’t it?” His voice cuts through the darkness.
Relief and rage war in my chest. “You fucking asshole!”
He’s close now. I can feel him standing in front of me, can feel the heat radiating off his body.
“This was your test,” he says. “And you failed.”
“What?”
“I told you to run. You ran. Good. But then you stopped to hide. Your phone rang. You got distracted.” His fingers brush against my cheek through the hoodie. I flinch. “If I was really hunting you, you’d be dead.”
“Fuck you.”
“Maybe later.”
I feel him working at the ropes around my ankles. They loosen, fall away. Then my wrists. The circulation rushes back in painful pins and needles.
He yanks the hoodie off my head.
I gasp for air, blinking in the darkness. He’s standing right in front of me, close enough to touch. His face is unreadable in the shadows.
Once the rope runs free, I grab it and wrap it around his neck. He immediately puts his hand between the rope and his neck as I squeeze.
“You crazy––”
“You’re fucking with the wrong bitch!” I snap, pulling tighter.
He let’s me. He doesn’t fight. Not really. Then he starts tapping my forearm.
“This isn’t a respectable grapple you can tap out from!” I whisper in his ear. The audacity!
“We’re…even…” he manages to say. And I release before I actually kill him. His face is turning a different color under the moonlight.
But that was the wrong fucking move. He spins his large body around, trapping me on the ground. I try to kick him off, but instead of resorting to torturing me, he presses against my center, finding my clit immediately and rubs.
I shriek from the abrupt change of pace. I thought he would strangle me, and instead, he’s diving straight between my legs. I kick, but he’s strong enough to stop me. He’s rubbing me fucking hard, hard enough that I might combust. I haven’t been touched in a very long time, and it’s almost like he knows.
“What’re you––”
“Shh,” he says, rubbing his hard cock against my leg. “You know exactly what I’m doing. Now, get your ass over here and stop fighting me.”
He pulls me down, and once the pressure is off my clit, I can think clearly again. I lean up and pull him into a headlock. The good thing about being a younger sister to an older brother means I’m not afraid of kicking a guy’s ass. This one is no exception.
“Wild little thing,” he says when I pull him into a headlock. And again, instead of trying to hurt me, he starts tickling my ribs.
My body is highly sensitive, so I start squirming. “Stop!”
“You have me in a headlock,” he whispers as I slowly release naturally. “I’m tickling you, and I need to stop?”
He starts tickling me harder, and I can’t help the jerky movements and laughter leaving my throat. Fuck! This is worse than being tortured.
“He pins my arms above my head, holding me down my wrists and sits on my legs. “Gotcha,” he murmurs, leaning down. “You’re stuck, Lexi. What’re you going to do now?”
