A/N: This oneshot was submitted to the Bodice Rippers Contest in 2021 and won Judge's Pick (Dani Darling), 3rd place in the voter's choice, and Most Unique Plotline (tie with Verbatim). I was blown away - I figured this plotline was a little too deranged and no one would read a Rosalie/Emmett fic anyway. So thank you to everyone who worked on the contest, entered, read, voted, and reviewed! It was a lot of fun!
I WILL be expanding this into a full fic, which will continue to center around Rosalie and Emmett. I will not be writing about any other couples playing the Game. HOWEVER, if you are interested, feel free! Send me a link and I'll pimp what you write. :-)
One last note - I have never read or watched The Hunger Games, so if you make that reference at me I won't understand it. The inspiration for this fic was a famous old short story, "The Most Dangerous Game," and if the author knew what I'd done to it, he'd be rolling in his grave.
The Game
Pairing: Rosalie/Emmett
Rating: DF for Deviant Filth
Setting: Tropical island AH/AU
All standard disclaimers apply
My name is Rosalie Lillian Hale, and at the moment I'm running on a rush of pure adrenaline.
I stand in a small, huddled mass of very anxious, very naked girls, the group trying hard not to touch each other while still seeking the comfort of other bodies, other warmth. I think I'm probably not as scared as most of them, but I'm scared enough. I move when the group moves, silent myself but listening to the nervous laughter and talk that flows back and forth. We've been given orders not to say where we're from or give our last names—no identifying information. It doesn't leave us with great conversation openers. The most common question, muttered while desperately trying not to stare at someone else's tits, is why we chose to come here.
I'm not touching that one. It was my twin brother who first clued me into the Game, and I'm not an idiot. That answer won't go over well.
"This is my third Game," one young woman confesses, wringing her hands in front of her flat stomach. "I have a boyfriend. He thinks I go to a spa with my girlfriends every year."
Oh, that may be even worse than me. At least I've left no partner at home, or lied to anyone. Jasper isn't happy that I chose to play, but I'm a grown woman and there's nothing he can do about it.
"You've done this before," another girl murmurs, "and you came back?"
"So did they." The first woman points at two others, who nod silently. The rest of us are virgins to the Game, riding waves of fear and adrenaline spiked by a sleepless night now behind us. It's that high I want more than anything else, to be honest. The thrill of the forbidden, the dangerous, the depraved and perverse. The others are scared; I'm scared and loving it. Stepping so far over the line of not only acceptability but sanity is exactly what gets me going.
I look over the girls without bothering to hide my curiosity. There are twelve of us, an even dozen. They all look more scared than excited. Me? I live for the thrill.
A month ago I sent in my initial consent forms and underwent the required medical screening. The legal requirements were so exhaustive that I almost backed out, but I read the fine print and signed on all the dotted lines like a good girl because I couldn't resist the temptation. Jasper hit the roof, but it's his own fault. He knows he can't dangle the ultimate thrill in my face like that and expect me not to bite. So yesterday I boarded a Delta flight to Orlando, then a private jet with the name Cullen Holdings emblazoned on the fuselage, which brought me here, to a small, secluded tropical island with no name. My brother knows where I am. No one else.
Once on the island I was taken with the other girls to our final medical screenings, which included both pregnancy and STI testing, and then gathered in an elegant conference room at a tricked out resort on the otherwise deserted island. We were given a chance to study a map of the terrain, fitted with smartbands on our wrists, and issued water filtration straws on lanyards to wear around our necks. "I wouldn't lose them if I were you," the beautiful woman in charge told us.
The smartbands, we were told, were there to help monitor the Game. If we have a medical emergency or otherwise wish to forfeit, we can push the button on the side. Help will come immediately. Otherwise, our movements will be tracked by the smartbands and tiny drones hovering throughout the jungle, their cameras following us closely.
"The hunters will not have access to your location data," the woman promised. "The Game is brutal, but fair. The cameras are purely for our spectators. They've paid small fortunes to attend."
This was all in the paperwork, all part of what I and the other girls willingly agreed to. We knew we'd be watched by a rich audience lounging in comfort in the resort, betting obscene amounts of money on the outcome of the Game. They were a select crowd with very specific tastes, their circle hidden from the public and very interested in keeping it that way. How the hell Jasper found out I have no clue, but the rest of these women must have a similar inside source. You can't exactly put out a want ad for live bait.
The paperwork's legalese was so dense it took me days to unravel phrase by phrase, but in the conference room it was explained much more directly. It's now Saturday morning, near dawn. At sunrise the doors will open, releasing us into the jungle, naked except for our smartbands, carrying nothing but our water filters. An hour later, twelve hunters will be released. At dusk on Sunday our smartbands will buzz on our wrists, signaling the end of the Game. Any girls left standing will win a massive cash prize but, we were warned, few women ever win. The hunters have paid for the opportunity to hunt. They're the predators, we're the prey. What they bring down, they get to keep for the remainder of the weekend. The legal document never directly stated sex while making very clear what was meant. The beautiful woman here is much more blunt.
"Most girls get caught. Let me make that clear. Most years, no one wins. Once caught, you belong to your captor for the rest of your time here. What he will want is the body he paid for the pleasure of hunting."
I'm more than fine with this. I signed on the dotted line, just as every girl here did. I'm here of my own free will, about to become prey in the most twisted game imaginable.
"You all signed your legal waivers and passed your medical reviews," the elegant woman told us before she left, the fear and anticipation in the room ratcheting higher with every ticking second toward dawn. "You may, of course, tap out at any time. Your consent is fully your own. Neither I nor my husband wish to be slapped with a lawsuit, no matter how fruitless it would be. We don't need the publicity. But if you ever wish to be invited back, I suggest you do not forfeit without a true emergency. Our spectators pay to see our girls put up a fight. They expect you to play the Game. When you lose, they expect you to either accept defeat gracefully and give your captor what he earned, or fight like the wild animal you've become. Demurral does not pay my bills, ladies, and is therefore not in your best interest."
Of course it isn't. I don't care how wrong this is, how twisted, how depraved—I signed up willingly, and I'm gonna fight. The seven-figure prize isn't why I'm here. It would be nice, sure. But I want the thrill. The struggle. The Game. I've chased some of the biggest highs this planet offers, from skydiving and bungee jumping to the truly dangerous thrills—free soloing, cave diving, rally driving. I'm a mechanic by trade, but my driver's license is currently suspended—too many speeding tickets. So, yeah, I'm not here chasing the payday, though it would be nice to pay off those fines and maybe open my own shop. I'm here chasing something else.
The Game hasn't started yet, but I'm already riding a great early high. I love the darkness, the filthy, forbidden thrill. When dawn breaks we're going to be hunted down like animals, fucked brutally by the men who capture us, and all for the pleasure of some wealthy-ass spectators. It's neanderthal. It's criminal.
I love it.
The elegant woman leaves us alone, the map of the island projected on the wall though no one cares. We're all buck ass naked among strangers, which isn't exactly conducive to studying. Instead we wait for those doors to open.
It's ridiculous, right? So fucking far-fetched. It seems like something out of a high-end porn shoot, and I love it already. I will forgive Jasper for every prank he played on me growing up, every argument we ever had, just because he told me about this place. I'm floating yet grounded, feeling the adrenaline sweet in my veins, the veneer of civilization still coating my surface, but fuck, it's so thin. I'm ready to let the animal inside loose, to let the wildcat have her turn to play.
The girls around me are perfect specimens of female beauty. For the kind of money our audience is paying, they demand top-shelf. But most of us aren't prissy little bimbos. Our viewers might get a kick out of watching one or two of those break and cry, but not twelve times in a row. This resort isn't full of sadists that psychotic, at least not from what I see around me. No, most of us girls were chosen to play this Game well. We're feminine but with an edge, some razor-sharp. Others hide that steel a little better. One whispers that she's a librarian. She has long brown hair and a sweet face; I like her. I don't underestimate her because of her profession. It's the quiet ones you have to watch out for.
I'm pretty straight usually, but these girls are fucking beautiful and I'm not afraid to say so. They're toned and taut, yet lush and feminine. Lean with muscle, but there's no mistaking the curve of tits and ass, the angular beauty of well-defined collarbones and graceful shoulder blades. One tiny little thing has a belly-button piercing, a jewel in her navel like I thought went out of fashion in the early 'aughts. That little amethyst hanging perfectly above her waxed mound has even me tempted to kneel and lick. It's actually both a huge ego boost and turn-on to be one of these women, part of this group.
A gleam of golden sunlight finds a crack between the double doors, and we all turn toward that tiny sliver of radiance as if we were dolls on rotating stands. Our breath catches. I see a dozen pairs of tight nipples, a dozen cunts wet with anxiety if not desire, a dozen throats suddenly frozen as heartbeats falter. It's time. We smell like women, and worry, and want. I fucking love it.
As if on a timer, the double doors slam open. There's no one there. No last words of encouragement greet our ears, no final warnings. They gave us time to study the map, though I doubt it stuck. It's up to us now. We're on our own. We know the rules—after we step past those doors, there are no rules. Men will follow, men who paid for the pleasure of hunting us down and taking us hard while cameras watch it all. We've now become the hunted. The prey.
I'm so fucking wet already.
The dawn, when I make that final step from the parquet floor of the conference room to the sandy soil of the island, glows delicate and sweet in the heavens, beams of pink and gold swirled with morning mist. The air hangs heavy against my skin, thick with humidity, and my hard little shell-pink nipples, puckered with anxiety, harden further as the open air breathes around them. I've always felt confident in my body, but I'll admit it feels unnatural to be completely naked outdoors, exposed not only to god and man but to the tiny drones I know hover throughout the jungle, transmitting HD video back to the resort. I wonder about the operators for a brief moment, if they ever dreamed they'd be using their education to do this.
"Do not follow me," the most experienced girl orders as she pulls ahead of the rest of the group. We virgins are more reluctant to leave the relative safety of the conference room—even me, though I hate to admit it. I'm an adrenaline junkie, but that first step into the void is always the hardest, no matter how many times I've jumped. "Spread out and keep to yourselves," the girl advises. "That's the only way to win this game."
"How do you know?" I challenge. "You ever win?"
She flushes pink, which tells me that she has not, and turns on her heels, marching into the trees.
The pack of scared girls—now nothing more than prey for the predators soon to be released—does not like this advice. Like pack animals, they want to cling together. The scent of female fear grows stronger. Oh, if the audience could only smell that, they'd go fucking crazy. I can imagine a predator lifting his nose to the wind, his pupils dilating hugely and turning flat, dangerous black when he scents that fear. The image sends a rush of pleasure trickling down my spine. I'm not a very submissive girl but fuck it all, in this moment I want to be stalked. I want to be chased down, want to be cornered, want to be forced to submit to something bigger and badder than myself.
I catch sight of a tiny, hovering drone just for a moment before it disappears into the jungle foliage. The rest of the girls must feel as I do—scared out of their wits and uncomfortable being naked outdoors. We all have North American accents, which means we probably all have hangups about nudity our global sisters in other lands may not. I know I'm hot, but I'm still weirded out. Even so, suddenly I feel a firming in my belly, a fire in my gut. I've always been really, really good at doing the opposite of what people expect of me, and I feel that inner fire flare to life now. I curl my bare toes deep into the soft, sandy soil beneath me, lift my chin and throw back my shoulders, and bare my full height and body proudly to the sun. They can make me run from men who want to fuck me like an animal, but they can't make me afraid of eyes I cannot see, faces I will never meet. Knowing I'm being watched is part of the fun. I wiggle my toes freely and set out with a firm, easy stride into the trees.
Two other women break off the group together and trail in my general direction. I hear part of their whispered conversation.
"I don't like the stats Mrs. Cullen gave us," one says. "Hardly any girls ever win."
The other laughs. "Honey, I'm not here to win. I'm here to get caught."
I like her. She knows what she wants. I bet half these girls want the same, but they're too scared to admit it. A seven-figure payout is tempting, but being dominated by the kind of guy up for this sort of Game doesn't sound like such a bad consolation prize. I'm not here specifically to get fucked, but my bare cunt clenches when that girl whispers her desire so bluntly. I feel her, I really do.
When the last glimpse of the resort disappears behind me, I cup my breasts in my hands and begin to jog. Running without a bra is not comfortable, okay, and I want to get as far away from those doors as I can. I have no intention of getting caught right out of the gate. My nipples are hard against my palms, sweat already beading along my skin from the humid air. The sky remains clear, all pink and gold and pretty, but the air feels so heavy. My pulse pounds and inside I'm liquid-sweet and so fucking ready, my body weeping for the inevitable outcome of this Game. My brain's not quite in agreement. My body finds this little damsel-in-distress role hot as hell and that slippery-slick leak between my legs is just begging for a chance to give in, to be taken and fucked and pounded to the end of endurance. My brain has no intention of submitting so easily.
Because I think with my head and not with my cunt (most of the time) I ignore the ache in my pussy and continue on through the jungle. If I claimed I memorized the map that would be a lie. I had way too much cortisol pumping through my system for executive functioning of that magnitude. But I remember vaguely where the big landmarks are, including a rocky ridge running down the northwest coast.
I head north, not interested in strategy, only in putting as much distance as possible between myself and the hunters. I'm not a game hunter myself—I find no thrill in killing innocent animals—but as I jog I acknowledge that it would have been intelligent to at least pick up a book and study strategy before getting on that plane. I chase thrills, but not stupidity. Before I take on a new experience, I always learn the proper technique first.
Not this time. I dove headfirst into the Game without any common sense preparation, and I don't even have to ask myself why I did something so stupid. I already know the answer. This Game checks all my boxes. It gets me fucking hot, which makes me a little more reckless than usual.
Or a lot more.
I veer slightly toward the west. Nothing I can do about it now.
By the time the sun shines directly above me I know the hunters must be nearby. They must be. They were released an hour after I was, and my senses have been on high alert for most of the morning. Every cracking twig and rustling leaf makes me jump. I'm so fucking anxious, so fucking scared, fear ratcheting higher with every heartbeat.
My cunt's also still drenched, sweet slickness coating my lips and inner thighs as I walk. Yeah, I fucking love this. The fear. The unknown. Dreading and anticipating both in equal measure.
However, as well as horny as hell, I'm also freaking starving and beginning to get tired. I didn't sleep last night, barely picked at the breakfast provided by the resort, and I've been on my feet since dawn. I slow to a halt, listening to the forest. I hear birds and little moving things in the underbrush, too small to be dangerous. Beyond that, I hear running water. My hand closes around the little filtration straw I wear on a lanyard. We were assured there are wild sources of food on the island, enough to keep us functional for two days, though functional and happy are not the same thing. I head toward the sound of the water, intent on hydration at least.
As I near the water source my eyes catch a flash of movement. I still my feet and crouch, making myself as small as possible. I'm tall and somewhat lanky, but I'm also flexible as hell and I can curl up tight when I want to. Inwardly I curse my ivory complexion and light hair, the damn rules that forbid clothes to cover them. The girls with warmer, darker skin and hair have an advantage over me in the hiding department. I stand out like a sunbeam, but probably not as badly as the lone redhead. We weren't allowed to bet before the Game began, but I'd have laid decent money on her being the first girl down. She's bright as a beacon, and men have a thing for redheads.
Slowly I inch forward, easing my feet down cautiously. I don't want any noises to give me away. Craning my neck around a thick tree trunk, sheltered by underbrush, I huddle in relative safety. And I see him.
My first hunter.
And fuck me, it's not fair.
I know, I know. He's the predator, I'm the prey. But he gets goddamn cargo shorts and a canvas backpack. No other clothing and no shoes, but it still seems massively unfair that he gets to protect his precious dick behind shorts and my pussy's on full display for the audience back at the resort. Yes, I agreed to this. I'd never claim otherwise. But it's still not fair.
I watch him silently, curious what sort of man pays to hunt down naked women on some rich asshole's private island. I'm not ragging on him, since I'm here for the same Game. But I'm really nosy. A little stream rushes through a rocky channel near the base of a fallen tree, and he's on his knees at the edge, drinking with his own filtration straw. His backpack sits behind him on the sandy soil, unguarded.
Maybe it's the protest fueling me, or maybe it's my own perverse nature, my unwillingness to conform to expectations. I don't know what makes me do it. I can't explain. All I can say is that I act before I think. No rules, Mrs. Cullen said. No rules except to keep from being caught, and my body craves risk like it craves oxygen. I'm on my feet before I can make myself stop, darting out into the little open space behind the hunter. I shove my bare foot into his cargo-shorts-covered ass, propelling his head forward into the water, scoop up his pack with one swift swing of my arm, and hurl myself over a couple of boulders and back into the cover of the jungle.
"Holy shit!" he sputters, expelling water from his nose and mouth, and I hear branches breaking and leaves whipping through the heavy air as he dives after me in pursuit. "I saw that, blondie! No fucking way! You little cheat! You think you can run from me now?" He sounds furious. He sounds delighted.
I toss his pack over my shoulder and run like hell. Yeah, I just poked a bear. It was an idiotic thing to do, reckless in the extreme, and I did it anyway. I'm not sorry, but I wonder as a thrill of fear washes over me if I soon will be. That man behind me is gigantic.
He's fast, but I'm faster. I dart and weave through the underbrush, more agile than my bulky pursuer, and adrenaline flows like the sweetest alcohol through my blood. I'm drunk on it, riding this high like a hit of purest powder, hearing the curses of the giant man chasing me and holding my own. A burst of pride hits me, sweet and energizing in a different sort of way. I barely caught a glimpse of him before I stole his shit, just a massive bare back and what looked like probably a pretty nice ass bent over in those baggy shorts. Yeah, now I'm curious, but not curious enough to get caught.
When I've pulled far enough ahead that I have time to consider exit strategy—because let's be honest, I wasn't thinking at all when I kicked him in the ass—I skid to a stop under a broad-leafed tree. I use the friction and gripping power of my bare feet and palms to find tiny holds in the rough bark and pull myself up, just as I would on a cliff face. I reach the lowest limb and throw my belly over it, propelling myself off the trunk, but I don't stop there. I keep going, up and up, putting as much distance and camouflage between myself and my hunter as possible. I don't want any locks of honey-blond hair or stray patches of skin visible from the ground.
When I've climbed to what seems the safest perch I tuck myself into a ball, holding his canvas pack tightly between my belly and thighs. I pant as quietly as possible, desperate for oxygen, my legs and the tender flesh between them stinging like hell. Climbing trees naked is no fucking fun. I've scraped one calf bloody and the other isn't much better. But my curiosity hasn't dimmed and I lean over the branch, cautiously peering down. I can hear my pursuer crashing through the underbrush.
He appears less than a minute after I settle, panting in the heat, sweat pouring off him, and fuck me backwards, he's hot. He's no pretty boy—this is a man. He's built like a mountain, a sheer wall of muscle. I climb mountains, and I would happily climb this one. He's big and broad and brawny, with a handsome, rugged face. Jaw I badly want to lick, nice cheekbones, and a mouth that twists in a mocking grin that's equal parts playful and sinfully evil. He halts under my tree, chest heaving as he pants. He has very little body hair, no pelt on his back and not much on his chest or belly until a smooth trail begins just below his navel. I want to follow where that line disappears into the waistband of his shorts, want to see whether he's packing anything even near proportional to the rest of him.
"Think you can steal from me, blondie? That's not how this game works, little girl!" he bellows into the jungle. He doesn't know where I am, I swear he doesn't. It's not possible. He's aggressive and used to getting his way; every line of his body, every shift of his frame says so. If he knew, he'd be climbing after me. Or tearing the tree down. Looking at those biceps, I'm not convinced he couldn't.
"I paid a lot of money for the privilege of hunting sweet little girls, not to be hunted myself," he calls. "I wasn't going after any one rabbit in particular but now, little bunny, you're mine. You just made yourself a target. Congratulations."
All I can do is grin, and hug his pack, and ride this high. His threat rolls right off me; I was already a target. I signed up to be a target. This fine specimen of walking testosterone has no idea how badly he just dared me and how willing I am to take him up on it. I may be prey but I'm not some frightened little bunny, and if this Game has no rules that means I can make my own.
Game on.
This is it. This is the high I've been chasing without knowing it, the thrill I've been seeking every time I jump from an airplane or test myself against a cliff face with no rope, no harness. Nothing else has ever made me feel so alive and afire at the same time. I'm bruised and scratched to hell, exhausted and hungry and dehydrated, but I'm panting from more than low blood sugar and humidity. I want that man. I want him so much. But I also want to give him hell. I want to make him work for it, make him fight harder for me than he's ever fought for a woman before. I can do it, too. Brash confidence fills me, as it does when I near the top of an ascent. I know deep in my belly—let's get real, deep in my cunt—that I'm not going to win the Game. I'm not going home with prize money this weekend because I've set my sights on a different reward.
My body's on fire, pulse pounding, and I want to shove my hand between my legs and come so badly. My audience would love it, too. I can just imagine those rich bastards lounging at the poolside bar, big fancy screens full of the image of me with my fingers shoved deep inside of me, my thumb frantic on my clit. I'd have them eating out of my filthy hands.
But I won't. I restrain myself not because of them, but because the reward will be sweeter later. That man's bare cock is going in me this weekend—so fucking hot and so fucking forbidden—and I'm going to fall apart exquisitely the moment it does. Not before.
Decided, I inhale a deep, shaky breath. I still want to come so fucking badly, and I'm so close the rough bark of the tree on my ass is driving me crazy. To keep my mind off it, I unbend slightly and set my hunter's pack in my lap. As I hope, when I open the top I find food. Whatever hunters pay for the chance to stalk and fuck willing female prey, it also buys them smaller perks. There's a bottle of water he must have been saving, since he was drinking from a stream, and I down that quickly while inspecting his little stash of protein bars, nuts, jerky, and gummy bears. Fucking gummy bears. I hear the quiet hum of a tiny drone and I turn my head toward the sound. I won't make myself come for these bastards, but I smile sweetly and put a red gummy bear to my mouth, holding it between my teeth for a long moment, my pink lips puckered around it, before I suck it in. Let it never be said Rosalie Hale isn't generous. I really, really hope my audience gets a kick out of this, and I also hope someone lost a huge bet when I kicked my hunter in the ass and stole his shit.
The burst of sugar on my tongue is so fucking welcome and so fucking sweet, but not as pleasurable as the knowledge that a bunch of strangers just watched me get one over on that mountain of muscle. And I did it without his precious cargo shorts.
Which gives me an idea even worse than the last one. I tear into a protein bar as I swing the pack onto my back and start my descent from the tree. I'm the prey, yes, but that man challenged me and I'm not going to make this easy for him. I already stole his supplies. Next, I'm gonna steal his shorts.
She's stalking me.
It's so fucking hot. Also adorable that she thinks she's being sneaky, thinks she could possibly turn the tables on me and win this game. What could a little blond bunny like her do to a big scary ape like me? I'm fucking King Kong, and she's a little girl in a world of trouble.
I saw her dart out of the underbrush from the corner of my eye, a long, leggy flash of pale skin and that honeygold hair. I thought at first she must be running from some other hunter and stumbled upon me by mistake, but no, she fucking kicked me in the ass, then stole my kit. Yeah, it was on then. I chased after her and for a second I was sure I'd catch her. I'm faster than I look. My hand stretched out toward those tempting hips, her perfect little ass dancing so goddamn close to my fingers, her hair spilling down her back. I wanted to wrap that ridiculously pretty Rapunzel hair in my fist and yank her off her feet, then take what's rightfully mine—the kit she stole, and the pussy I earned for catching her.
The first hunter to bag game this weekend gets his entry fee back, plus bragging rights, but that's not what I paid a shitload of money and waded through all those legal forms and medical tests for. No, I did it all for this—the thrill of the chase, knowing the woods are full of frightened little rabbits, huddled and trembling, just waiting for the fox to pounce. Hunting dumb animals is no sport, but hunting naked girls? Now you have my attention.
But this little bunny isn't trembling in the underbrush somewhere, waiting for a big bad hunter to find her. No, she's changing the rules of the Game, and I love it. God, she's a vision. So hot. So cocky. I barely caught a glimpse of her face, but I'll remember that ass for the rest of my life.
I plan to make it mine. I gave her fair warning and I know she was close enough to hear me. I could practically smell her, perfume and sweat, sex and sin. She has to be a deviant little thing if she has balls enough to play this Game, let alone flip the script on a monster like me. I have to have this one. Any other girl would be easier to catch, but this saucy bunny with her fine ass and brazen nerve has me rock hard already and I don't give a fuck about the others. This one's mine. I'm going to hunt her down like the predator I am, and show her exactly how much she's mine. I hope she fights me, hope she makes me work for it. That's more than half the fun. She can press that button on her smartband if she really wants out, but I saw her face for an instant before she shoved me, saw the gleeful determination in those calculating eyes. She has no intention of tapping out.
Or of losing. But my ballsy little bunny has no idea who she's playing with.
I feel her now, know she's nearby, like I really am a forest predator and can smell her or some shit. I'm king of this fucking island today and ready to claim my queen, not in courtship but in battle. She's smooth and sharp as top-shelf tequila, and I imagine how her liquid desire gathers and rolls along her skin, thicker than sweat, sweeter than sugar. I'll have it on my tongue before the weekend's out, I swear to god.
I really hope my bunny's having fun, because I sure am.
I range slowly north and west, toward the rocky volcanic outcroppings hedging the corner of the island. I planned for the past few days with deadly fucking seriousness. Jasper, my buddy who first told me about the Game, said that most of the girls would be noobs like me, but that didn't mean they would be easy to catch. He warned me they would be strong girls, tough girls, girls who could handle the Game.
Boy was he right about that, at least where my bunny's concerned. She's no shy fucking violet. She's a rose in bloom, complete with thorns. She's dangerous perfection.
And I'm going to catch her. I don't give a shit that she's clearly in this to win and willing to fight dirty. Nobody steals from me and gets away with it, especially not such an edible piece of ass. Kick me in the tail, will she? I'll tan hers, and have her sobbing for more.
I close in on the rock formation toward late afternoon. Bunny took my food and I'm starving, which makes me fucking irritable. I plan to look for something edible in the tidepools. There's coconut palms near the shore if I'm desperate, but I hate coconut.
I ran across two other hunters during the afternoon, and I'm not happy about that. I know I'm only one of a dozen guys out here and I was fine with that before I discovered my sweet thorny prize. I didn't know who I was hunting and I didn't care, but now I do. My bunny's near, stalking me. I know she is, and I don't want any other hunters catching sight of her. She's mine. If I run across another girl, I'm fully prepared to let her escape. I don't want the others, only the leggy blonde who thinks she can outplay me. I want to tackle her, pin her to the ground, and make her so fucking sorry she ever signed up for this Game in the first place.
Either that or fall madly in love with me. We'll see how it plays out.
I angle toward the stony ledge which towers above me, a sharp cliff of black volcanic rock. The soil turns to sand and the jungle ends abruptly in a seam of stubbly grass. Something shiny catches my eye near the base of a boulder. I move a fallen leaf with my foot and find an empty protein bar wrapper with one little red gummy bear very deliberately placed in the center to keep it from blowing away.
I grin like an idiot. She's been here, my little blond bunny. She somehow circled in front of me, maybe while I was being surly with the other hunters, and now she's taunting me. She knows I know she's following me. Any asshole could have littered the beach with a wrapper, but the gummy bears were mine, not part of our assigned kit. Only I had them, so now only she does. She's mocking me because she managed to swipe my kit.
Fuck me, I may be in love.
I stuff the wrapper in my pocket and the candy in my mouth and range down to the tidepools to find dinner, feeling her gaze with every move I make. I strut a bit, I'll admit, puffing my chest out and throwing my shoulders back. I take pride in my body, and the reward is how it feels when hot girls run their eyes along it. There have been cameras on me since I left the resort, but they don't feel like my bunny's eyes. Nothing else feels like knowing she's out there watching me. Her gaze is pure heat, invisible fire raking down my chest and over my abs. I don't worry that she might not like what she sees—yeah, I'm a cocky bastard like that, but also, she wouldn't still be following me if some part of her wasn't interested. Right now I'm hoping that part is her pussy. I'm so fucking hungry, not just for food but for her. I want more than just a glimpse of her pretty face, more than the memory of her fine ass a hair's breadth out of reach. I want to know what my name sounds like on her tongue, the color and shape of her nipples, the strength of her inner muscles as she clamps down on me.
Her name might be nice, too, though she'll forever be my bunny now, just because it's so inappropriate. She's not little or meek at all. She's leggy and bold and she's got balls as big as mine. I came here to hunt cute little rabbits and ended up stalked by a fucking wildcat.
Best. Deal. Ever.
She's near now, I can feel it. I want to turn on my heels, wrench myself around and find her there creeping up on me, thinking she's so sneaky. I can't, I know I can't, but I want to so fucking badly. I know if I do I'll just scare her further into hiding and I want to lure her close enough to pounce. So I wait, pretending I don't know she's there, inspecting the contents of the rocky tidepools. I'm unsure whether sea anemones are edible and very sure I don't want to experiment. I wade cautiously into the deeper pool to get at the clumps of mussels clinging to the rocks. When the ends of my long shorts drag in the water I pause. I'm going commando and wet, salty shorts rubbing my cock does not equal a good time.
I know at least one of those damn drones must be nearby, and I wonder what the people back at that swanky resort can see. Is my little blond bunny visible to the cameras? Are they watching her edging closer, nervy and daring, like a naive little kitten pawing at the neighbor's Doberman?
Fuck it. They paid for a show; I'll give them a show. Her, too. I undo the fly of my cargo shorts and kick them off behind me, to the edge of the pool. At least now I won't have to worry about chafing. I have a pretty nice ass, firm and not furry, and if those fuckers want to watch me give my little bunny an eyeful, they can. They paid way more than I did to sip champagne in a fancy bar and watch beautiful people play at being cavemen. I don't begrudge them the visual of my girl ogling my ass...but I do want to see the video afterward.
Huh. I never thought about it before, but now I desperately want that video. All of it—every second of film they have of my bunny. I want to see it all, want to watch her steal my shit over and over again, watch her run, discover how she managed to get away from me in the jungle. And once I catch her—yeah, I'm gonna want to keep video of that. I wonder if I'll be permitted to. Access to the videos wasn't mentioned anywhere in the paperwork I signed but, I mean, it's of me.
A breeze ghosts my cheek and I'm pulled from my thoughts and rocked back to myself by the feel of wind on my hair and my cock. I wheel, stumbling in the thigh-deep tidepool, scraping my foot on barnacles, and curse loud and long. I stare at the beach behind me.
My shorts are gone.
I should have known. I should have fucking known. I'm suddenly furious at myself and delighted with my bunny. How'd she know I was distracted? The one moment my mind wandered she darted in, silent on the sand, and slipped away before I knew she was there.
But she's made a mistake—either that, or she wants me to follow. Because I can see her footprints perfectly in the deep tropical sand, closer together where she stalked me slowly, then further apart where she darted in and dashed away.
I follow her, my cock half hard already as I sense that this is it—the final chase. She went too far when she stole my shorts, and now she's gonna be mine. Her footprints lead me directly to the towering rock outcropping, and I can see exactly where she began to climb. My eyes trace up the rocks and...there. There she is. I'd say in all her glory, but that shit's too cheesy even for me. Fuck, she's gorgeous as she stands on a ledge and wiggles her bare ass into my shorts. She tries to roll down the waist to make them fit, but no way are they ever coming close. She explodes into giggles, holding the waistband out with her thumb like someone from a diet commercial.
"What are you, some kind of goddamn mutant?" she taunts, laughing at me from her perch high above. Holy fuck, can she climb. She was up there so fast. And good goddamn, she's beautiful. Those tits make my mouth water. I want to roll her pretty pink nipples under my tongue, want those handfuls filling my palms. Her Goldilocks hair flies around her face and shoulders in the sunset wind, curled a little just at the edges from the humidity. I can see she even has a Cindy Crawford beauty mark near her upper lip. So fucking gorgeous. So fucking perfect.
And she's laughing at me. "How much do you have to inject every day to get that massive?"
I grin menacingly at her taunts and put my hands to the rocks, beginning to climb. This is not fun with a half-hard and unprotected cock. But what I want is up there on that ledge, and I'm not gonna be denied this time. "I've never put anything synthetic in this body, baby," I tell her, feeling the pull in my pecs and triceps as they take the bulk of my body weight. "This is all me."
She continues to insult me, discarding the shorts that will never even begin to fit on those slim little hips of hers. "All you, huh? No way does anyone grow to be such a meathead on his own." She scrambles a little higher on the rocks as I close the distance between us. Her form is impeccable as she climbs, her movements sure and swift. And gods, that body. Yeah, I caught a glimpse of her before and I chased that perfect ass for a minute through the jungle, but seeing her now, looking down at me like a queen on a fucking throne...this girl is everything. Toned and lean, obviously a gym bunny or an outdoorsy girl, someone who knows her way around her own body. I dig that. But she's lush, too, that ass round and sweet, her tits just begging for my hands, my mouth. I can't help staring at the perfect little crease where her legs meet. She's a lovely little innie, and while I don't care either way, it means I have no clue, no little hint of what she'll look like when I finally spread those legs. All I can see is the tempting split of her bare outer lips, no hint of what's inside. I want it. I want it so fucking badly. On my tongue, on my fingers, on my cock. Fucking everywhere.
"I'm not a meathead," I say with a grin, continuing to slowly climb. These rocks are razor-sharp and my cock's not making this easy. "I told you, this body's one hundred percent natural, little bunny. And I'm not an idiot, or an asshole. I'm a nice guy, I swear."
"No nice guy pays to stalk naked girls around an island!"
"No nice girl volunteers to be the prey."
She climbs to the top of the outcropping but once there she has nowhere left to go. The ridge slopes gently away from the coastline, running further inland from this point. On the other side there's a dangerous sheer drop into rock-strewn water. She's stuck.
I win. Check-fucking-mate.
My arms are screaming at me and I pause a moment, breathing deeply, just watching my girl. She tosses my shorts down onto my head.
"You can have those back, I guess. They're never gonna fit me, meathead."
"Not a meathead, I told you." I hope she's loving this as much as I am. She looks like it.
"What did you 'roid up for?" she taunts. "Bodybuilding? Football? Something else?"
"I've done both." I shake my head until my shorts fall; I have no free hand to grab them and I want her more than I want clothing. "Where'd you learn to climb like that?"
"I'm just that good." She grins cheekily at me. Fuck me, but she's sexy. I climb higher. Hauling my heavy ass around is more difficult than hauling her sleek little body, but I'm not stopping now. I'm so close.
"You're mine, little bunny," I tell her as I close in on her. She looks behind her at the sheer drop no madman would attempt, not with all those rocks littering the sea below. I see her weighing her options. She doesn't want to be caught, at least not yet. But she's run out of choices. It's my turn to play now.
"I'm no bunny." She scowls at me. "I'm not some cowering little rodent, and I'm not a toy for creepy old men, either."
"You mean Hefner?" I chuckle. "I wasn't thinking about Playboy. Sorry, baby. You just have an adorable tail, that's all."
She glances behind herself, craning to see the pert curve of that mouthwatering ass. "It is pretty cute," she allows finally.
"You bet it is. And I'm gonna turn that little white bunny tail red in just a second."
"You'll have to catch me first." She grins and bolts to the side, about to run along the treacherous ridge of rock to escape me. Before she can get more than three steps, another figure pulls himself up the rocks from the other side.
Another hunter.
My bunny freezes. I freeze. The stranger's closer to her than I am and he's on his feet. I've barely got my head over the ridge.
"Thanks for distracting her for me, mate," he says with a sarcastic sneer. "I can take it from here."
No. Hell no. I've played the Game with this sexy bunny for the better part of the day, and I'm not giving her up now. She's the one I want, so sassy and smart. This asshole can find himself a different girl. I grab hold of a sharp wedge of rock and drag myself up and over the ledge, scraping my chest painfully against the uneven surface. I'm on my feet in another second, my scrapes seeping red. I ignore them.
"Bunny," I say gently. Fuck, now I do wish I knew her name. Baby girl has to make a choice. I can only pray it's the right one.
We stand in the bloody light of sunset, tension tight as a bowstring. She's the arrow, but I don't know which way she'll fly. She only has two choices: him or me. The man she's been testing all day, or an unknown x-factor. I look him up and down critically with one eye, the other still riveted on my girl. He doesn't look like the greatest option. He's slender but toned, hard as whipcord, with dark, greasy hair falling in his eyes and a dumbass little thin mustache. No, I don't like the look of this guy at all.
"Bunny?" he says, his laugh cold. "I like that. Come here, little bunny girl." He beckons silkily and steps forward.
She steps back.
"Don't be like that," he coos. "You've already lost. Now it's him or me, and look at that monster. He'll rip you apart. I'll be a little nicer. Won't mark you up too bad. At least not permanently." He grins, his smile full of malice, and advances again.
My bunny whips her head around to stare at me. She's trembling; I expect to find panic in her eyes, but I don't. She's not afraid. That beautiful, angular jaw holds firm, her full, sweet mouth unyielding. She's angry. I can see her mind whirling, seeking a third option—a way out. She doesn't want to be caught. Not by me, and especially not by him.
Fuck, I love this girl. For playing with me. Fucking with me. Refusing to be afraid and refusing to back down. She has no out, but she's not willing to accept that.
"I won't hurt you." I swear it on my life. All she has to do is take five steps in my direction, and I'll do the rest. If I bolt for her the other hunter will reach her first, and then it's Game over. She has to decide. She has to help me.
She gives me a scathing glance with those deep blue eyes. "I know that. What kind of idiot do you take me for?"
Smart girl. Good girl. I want her eyes on me, want her on me, but she turns her attention back to the stranger. He's the dangerous one, and she knows it. I'm huge but I'm not that kind of monster.
Our audience is probably eating this up with fucking spoons; I'm not having fun anymore. I wanted real, but this has become too much, too dangerous. My bunny steps back. A rock under her bare foot gives way. She stumbles, regaining her balance quickly on the treacherous surface.
"You make this difficult for me and I'll take you here instead of on the sand," the stranger warns. "Don't try me. Your back and knees don't want that."
I scraped my front along these rocks just a minute ago. Doing that to her would shred her to ribbons. My jaw tenses. "Cut the shit," I tell him. "Threats like that aren't okay."
"There are no rules out here," he tells me coldly.
I look at my bunny. She's out of options, but she stubbornly refuses to give in. "Push the button," I tell her. "You don't want him. If you don't want me, either, push the button. Forfeit." That's her third option, the out she's been desperately seeking. It's the ultimate shameful exit and she'll never be allowed to play again, but staying in the Game isn't worth the risk of this asshole getting his hands on her.
Those big, pretty blue eyes turn to me. They reject this option forcefully; she wasn't built to forfeit. I watch as she casts her gaze over the terrain one last time, her sexy shoulders firming as she makes her decision. I honestly have no idea what it will be.
"No." She inhales deeply. "I'm not done playing."
And she leaps.
It's more beautiful than any Olympic dive, because it's completely bonkers. Unhinged and uncontrolled, utterly reckless and wildly dangerous, the ultimate Hail Mary. Her legs gather below her and spring, her upper body twists and curves like a fucking ballet dancer's, and she's off the rocks and heading toward the boulder-strewn water below before I can even think to scream at her not to.
And before common sense can stop me, I follow.
I don't see her hit the water because I'm only a second behind her; I've never trained to dive and I'm hella awkward about it. I hit hard and at first I'm sure I hit a boulder but no, it's just the water telling me this was a really, really bad idea. I don't quite belly flop but I'm close, and my nose and eyes are full of stinging salt water. As I sink I crack my shin and then my shoulder against barnacle-covered rocks. I flail, bobbing to the surface, and blink water out of my burning eyes only to see my girl treading water a breath away, her eyes wide as she gapes at me.
"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" she demands. Oh, she's pissed.
"Probably." Why does salt water up the nose hurt so much? I sneeze, then grab for her. My hands close around those hips, first the beautiful, angular knobs of bone and then the nice fleshy part, and my fingers clamp down hard.
Her palms fly to my chest and she shoves at me, but I'm not letting go. No way. Not now. She's mine by right. I caught her. I jumped off a fucking cliff for her. My shoulder hurts like hell, my chest stings where I scraped it up and then dunked it in salt water, and I know my shin's bleeding, too. I ignore it all. My bunny's finally in my grasp and I'm not letting go.
"I cliff dive all the fucking time!" she says, still struggling like she thinks she has a chance of breaking free. "I was in no danger. You're another story!"
"Aww. Were you worried about me, little bunny?" I pull her closer.
"Let me go! I'm not done playing! I refuse to be captured on the first fucking day!"
I bust out laughing. She'll probably be even pissier, but I can't help it. "So your problem isn't with me, but with being caught too soon?"
"Yes! I refuse to be an easy target," she snaps, still struggling against me. Her foot catches my hurt shin and I wince. I shift my arms, grabbing her thighs and pulling them up and around me under the water. Oh, she fits there so nice, her warmth cupping me like the sweetest glove. I can feel her slickness against my cock, thicker and softer than salt water. Despite herself, she can't ignore that spark. Her blue eyes darken and her pupils dilate like I've given her a hit of something. I feel her sweet folds rub along my length, just the slightest bit, and I groan. We fit together. We fit so fucking well. I'm gonna be inside this girl in another second.
"Trust me, bunny, you weren't an easy target." I run my palms from her ass to her shoulders and back down, unable to keep my hands off those buns. She's both muscular and fleshy and I squeeze hard, digging my fingers into that meat. I knead and rub slowly under the water, watching those big blue eyes fill with heat.
"I still want to play," she whines, but she can't help how her nipples harden as they drag against my chest, how her sweet pussy absolutely floods when I grip her hard.
"Shh. You played good, baby. I bet no girl has ever played like you did. But you're also a little bit reckless, in case you haven't noticed. You didn't play safe, and that cost you."
"I know." She sulks and her body stills against mine. She hasn't submitted yet but she's close, and this perfect moment when I know I've won and she's about to let me have everything is the sweetest, most thrilling of my life. Those dark blue eyes search mine, and I honestly have no idea what she's looking for. "It's my nature," she says finally, simply.
My spicy little blond cherry bomb. I knew that. I knew it the moment she kicked my ass. "It's a feature, bunny," I assure her. "Not a bug." She may be too much for other men, but not for me. I slant my mouth over hers, covering her little whimper of surrender.
I've won.
She tastes like sun and salt and girl, like the deepest jungle and the only reward worth claiming. My tongue shoves into her mouth, taking what I've won. I keep us upright, bobbing softly in the tide. Her hands stop fighting me and wind around my shoulders, her fingers digging into the meat of my muscle. I wonder when I'll feel our smartbands buzz, announcing that she's been claimed. What are they waiting for?
I realize what they're waiting for a moment later. My defeated bunny becomes a wildcat once more, her body tensing and, slippery as an eel, wriggling from my grasp while I'm distracted by that mouth. She kicks my hurt shin hard and yanks away, pushing off of me with her feet like I'm the goddamn wall of a swimming pool, launching herself toward the shore. She's faster under the water than I am lumbering through it but I push on, gaining speed as the water shallows and she's forced to abandon swimming, rising streaming with salt water, making swiftly for the beach.
Oh, no. Not in a million years. I caught her, and she's not getting away like that. My strides are longer than hers and even though she's fast, I catch her in the wet sand before she reaches the high tide line. My arms circle that little waist and I yank her off her feet, tossing her down. She yelps as I grab her, the sound high and clear, kicking out as her back connects with the sand.
"Nice try, bunny." I grin down at her, settling myself over her as she struggles. She has no idea how much all her wiggling turns me on. "Listen, little tail, you have two options. You can push this button." I grab her arm just above her smartband and hold it between us, giving her ample opportunity to bail. "You do that and I'll let you up—no questions, no struggle. I'll go get my pack and my shorts and you'll be back home before morning."
She scowls fiercely at me, rejecting that idea even as her hips jam upwards and twist, trying to shove me off. I'd be in a world of trouble if this little wildcat actually knew what she was doing. That thought turns me the fuck on, no matter how inappropriate it is—seeing this girl in the ring against an opponent. Or better yet, feeling it myself.
"Or you can settle down and enjoy this." I release her pinned arm and press my hips more firmly between hers. I have her positioned perfectly, her pelvis tilted up and her hip joints open, pinned in place by the tops of my thighs. She can kick me with those sharp heels of hers and she does, but she can't really move anything important as I pin her to the sand and let her think. She took the unexpected out last time, but she doesn't have one now.
She snarls at me, beyond frustrated, arching that lovely back as she tries to throw her shoulders to the side, gain some sort of leverage, but I know what I'm doing and she's caught.
"Give in, bunny." I drop my voice as I hold my wildcat, cupping her chin in my dripping hand. My thumb rolls across those fuckhot lips. "Admit you've lost. Let me in." My cock aches painfully, wedged between us. I love the fight, but I'm also so ready for it to be over. I want this woman so much. "I'll make it good for you," I promise her. "I don't care what that douchebag up there said—I'm not a monster. I know how to please a woman."
"A woman, maybe," she sneers up at me. "Not this woman." And she opens that sexy fucking mouth and bites my thumb.
Game on.
I curse and rip my hand from her mouth, and in that instant as her eyes dilate I see it all—exactly what she wants. Exactly why she's been goading and taunting me. Hell, maybe why she agreed to the Game in the first place. She's not saying no. She just loves the fight. I haul myself to my knees and grab her shoulder and her hip, flipping her face-first into the sand. My knees wedge hers apart, wide enough I know she can feel the evening breeze on that pretty pink cunt. She's so fucking wet when I run a rough hand between her velvet folds. I crack my wet palm down on the firm ass that's been taunting me all fucking day. The yip that tears from her mouth is high and sweet and I have her stretched so wide I can see her fucking pussy clench when I spank her.
"Last chance to back out, bunny." Her arms are underneath her; she can reach her smartband and tap out if she wants to. But she won't, and I now know why she won't. She flattens her palms against the sand and digs her fingers in, like she thinks this is gonna hurt and she's so ready for it. That's so hot.
And it may hurt, at least a little, because I'm a big boy and I'm not doing this slowly. I would have if she submitted sweetly in the water, but no. She went and kicked me and tried to run again after I already caught her. I'm not giving her a chance to do that again. I'm so fucking ready for this. I run the leaking head of my cock just once along her dripping slit, then slip into position.
In an instant, the head's inside her. I exhale a huge breath as her heat clamps down on me, and holy fuck, as I press another inch inside her I feel her suddenly squeeze me even tighter. A sharp little wail leaves her lips and she writhes as she comes desperately on just the head of my cock. I hold her tightly and move my fingers toward her clit, giving her something to rock against. Her cry turns deeper and her creamy skin flushes pink. I feel our smartbands buzz simultaneously, finally signaling that I've caught her. I guess they were waiting for penetration. She's mine now, confirmed by both her body and the Game. I've truly won. She's captured.
I let my fingers roll slowly along her clit as she begins to come down, her rhythmic, jerky shudders petering out. Her head turns to the side, one big blue eye opening as she watches me. She blinks at me with hazy gratitude.
"The whole day's been foreplay for you, huh?" I give her clit one last gentle stroke and slide my hand up over her hip, latching on.
"You have no idea."
"I think I do." I shift my body, pulling out just a little before sinking the rest of my shaft into her. She groans deep. That noise of pleasure sounds like it comes straight from her full little cunt, I swear to god, and it's the sexiest thing ever. Her hips roll back, her back arching and giving me better access to that sweet pussy.
"Oh, hell," she hisses. "Oh, fuck, you're a monster."
I chuckle. "Fully proportional, baby. I would have been gentler about it, but you pushed me. I was gonna eat you out while you floated on the tide, then ease this big dick into you so nicely. But you went and kicked me. Then bit me."
"Mm." She twists and tilts her hips in a way I'm very familiar with as she tries to find an angle that doesn't feel so intense, but it won't work. Like I said, I'm a big boy. Some girls change their minds after getting a good look at my rod. But she can't say she wasn't warned. She stole my shorts, saw me naked, and continued to fuck with me anyway. I'm a shower, not a grower, so she can't say she didn't know. I lick her shoulder and give her a little mercy, sliding my hand down between her legs to play with her pretty clit again.
"Rock against me, bunny," I urge her. "I know I'm big. It'll feel better if you just relax and let yourself go."
"So fucking full," she groans. "So fucking hard."
Yeah, that gets my ego going. I bite gently at her shoulder, lightly freckled from the sun. "Relax. Feel me."
She rubs herself along my fingers but she doesn't relax, those sweet muscles inside her quivering as she grips me like a vise. And I realize after a moment that she's still fighting. I have no idea why, or even who. Is she still fighting me at this point, or herself?
"Give in, bunny," I whisper, licking the salt along her smooth throat. "Admit you've lost. Relax that pretty pussy and let me move. It's time to play a different game now."
"No." She blinks up at me and I love it because I can see how much she loves it. That stubborn streak in her just does not quit.
"Yes." I roll her clit gently under my fingers. I don't want to be rough with this girl while she's still adjusting to my size. I want this to be as good for her as it is for me. "I won. I caught you. Before, the choice was yours. You could have come to me willingly but you refused. You ran from that asshole up there, which was a smart choice, but you also ran from me. What happens when a bunny runs from a predator?"
"She gets away," she says, but even as the words grind out from between her teeth she rolls that clit against my fingers and I feel her inner muscles begin to relent.
"No. She attracts his attention." I roll that little clit of hers under my fingers like a gambling addict blessing a die. I want it under my tongue, want to make her sob with pleasure. Because she's a fuckhot girl. Because I caught her and now she's mine. Fuck me, especially because she's fighting me about this. And because I know how much she loves that fight. "This is the consequence, bunny. This is the Game you signed up for."
"I want you." I feel those sleek muscles of hers quiver as she slowly acclimates to my size. Oh, I know she wants me. I can feel it as I rest so deep inside her. Her pelvis hesitantly rocks, testing the heft of me, how I move within her. She exhales shakily. "But I don't want to be caught."
"I know, bunny. I know." I kiss her cheek, her jaw, urge her to turn her head so I can reach her mouth. Her kiss is salt and sand, a hint of blood where one of us bit our lip at some point, hot as the sunset, wet as the tide. "You fought hard," I groan against her skin, fighting desperately to be good and hold still as she tests me, pulling away an inch and then sinking back onto my cock. I feel the head roll along the softness inside of her. "Those rich douchebags will be talking about you for years, how you stole my kit, how you stalked me. But you knew this was always how it would end."
She reaches underneath herself to show me how she likes her clit stroked. I love my bold bunny. She wants it firm and slow and I gladly give it to her. "I knew I wasn't going to win," she admits, and her body shudders under mine as I begin to move inside her. "Oh, fuck." She closes her eyes and licks her chapped lips, her pink tongue so fucking sexy. I want it wrapped around mine, or better yet, around my cock. "The moment I saw you, I knew it. But I still want to play."
"Play with me then, bunny." I pull almost all the way out and then sheath myself in her again in one long, slow movement. She trembles below me, pliant now, taking what I give. "You want to chase a high? Chase this one with me. No one ever said we had to be enemies."
A low moan leaves her mouth and with a final heated glance she submits. "This time," she says, giving me full warning. "Just this time. You're going to have to earn any more."
Oh, I can definitely live with that. She thinks she can challenge me? "Game on, baby." She has no idea. I'm going to devour this girl.
Hazy blue eyes clouded with want close as she fucks back into me. I'm slowly gaining speed, more confident that I'm not hurting her, at least not in a way she dislikes. "What's your name, baby?" I ask suddenly, before I forget how to speak at all.
Her eyes open again, blinking at me. A vein of clarity momentarily clears the sex from her gaze, and a single dry laugh peals from her. "Rose. Why?"
I chuckle. Of course it is. "My thorny girl."
"Exactly."
"I'm Emmett," I tell her, though she hasn't asked. "So you can scream it properly."
A burble of a giggle pours from those pouty pink lips. "That's not a name to scream in ecstasy."
I snort. Is that what she thinks? "We'll see." I smack that firm ass again before spearing her deep. Fuck, her sweet pussy's everything. So fucking wet, so fucking tight. I can smell us, sex thick in the air even over the smell of the tide. Watching where we're joined is incredibly hot, her little cunt bare and pink and slippery, stretching around my rod. She's liquid fire inside, hotter than hell, sweet as the sin of paying for the privilege of catching her. Her half-closed eyes are so dark, clouded with want and still riding the high of the fight, the dive from the cliff. She's floating, and she's loving every second of this. Good. My bunny may actually be sweet once past those thorns.
She's also a fucking nasty girl, and I love it. She shoves that sweet cunt back at me, hard and demanding. "Deeper," she mewls. "Deeper. You can do it, you've got a fucking construction crane down there. Use it. Want to feel you in my throat."
I ream her hard, giving her exactly what she's asking for, tilting her hips and shoving her knees further apart, the perfect position to spear her deep. She lets me move her willingly and she wails perfectly when I ram deep and hold for a second. "In your throat yet?" I grind my fingers down hard against that little clit.
She whimpers, fingers digging into the sand, her sounds loud and needy and everything I want after fighting so hard for this woman. I take her again and again, shoving her shoulders down, ass up, hearing how much she loves it. I adore her sounds, how uninhibited she is, though I'm suddenly jealous that those assholes watching from the resort get to hear this, too. I want those sounds to be just for me. I've never been the possessive type before, and I don't like how this feels at all. I close my eyes and bury my face in the elegant crook of her neck, breathing in sand and salt and sex and girl. She's mine. They can watch, but nobody else gets to touch. Nobody else gets to make her feel this. I run my hands under her to grip her tits, lush handfuls that fill my palms so well.
"Mine now, baby," I grunt as I pound into her. "Mine now." I caught her. I'm inside her. She's mine.
She convulses around me. I doubt that possessive note in my voice could set a girl like this off, so she must have been close anyway. I suck on her sweet skin as she takes my hand and shoves it back between her legs, using me to roll tight little circles around her clit, prolonging her orgasm. Little grains of sand stick to the pads of my fingers and that rough texture must really do it for her because she comes and comes, her body shuddering and writhing, and it's all I can do not to follow her. I grit my teeth and hold off. When I nut inside this girl, it's gonna be the biggest of my life.
She collapses into the sand, breathless and shaking, and I fuck that sweet body hard, giving her no rest. "Give me another," I urge, biting and sucking at her skin. I've decided I'm going to mark her. I suck hard, wanting to leave this moment bruised into her flesh, give her a hickey like we're teenagers. She moans under me.
"So deep," she mumbles, panting softly. "Oh, god. So fucking good."
"Emmett," I remind her. "There's no higher power here to save you." This island doesn't exist in the same world as all that shit.
Her eyes crack open, and a hint of a smile touches that sinful mouth. "Good." She twists slowly, shifting her body. I slide out of her momentarily, but she turns on her side and lifts her leg, letting me sit up straight and hug it to me. I slip back inside her and we both groan as I fill her again. I can't reach as deep in this position but I can fuck her hard and I do, her leg tossed over my shoulder.
"Touch yourself," I demand as I lean slightly over her, pounding her mercilessly. "I want to rip at least two more out of you before I come." I want her wrung dry, want her beyond sated, want her worn out and submissive, maybe even a little apprehensive about the rest of the weekend.
She complies, but even as her fingers slip through her folds, she grins wickedly at me. "If you want that, you're going to have to use your mouth." She relaxes back into the sand, her fingers stroking my pistoning length and then her clit, hard and red and gleaming like a ruby. "Either lick me senseless, or start talking dirty."
Yeah, I'm in love with this woman. I lean over her and bite her lips. "How dirty we talking?" As if I even have to ask. I may not know exactly what gets her going, other than adrenaline, but I know this isn't a candlelight-and-bubblebath kind of girl.
Her breath hitches and she bites her lip. "So dirty."
It's a dare. I'm good with that. I spear her deep, making her moan, and turn us so she's on her back. Her legs wrap around me and, to my surprise, her arms do, too. She holds me almost as if this...means something? But I hear that hitch in her breath as my hand caresses her gorgeous tit, and it drives that thought from my mind.
"You stole my kit. You saw what was in there—not just the gummy bears." I'm still a little pissed at her for stealing those.
She nods, her mouth trailing little biting kisses along my jaw. Fucking her face to face is surprisingly intimate, but I welcome the humid little pants of her breath along my skin, the way she plays with me like a fucking spider, so delicate, so deadly. My sweet Rose and her thorns.
"They gave you poor little bunnies nothing, but, among other things, they gave us hunters rope. If I caught you when you snagged my kit, I would have strung you up between two trees. Spread these sweet legs until your hips ached, until you looked like a fucking gymnast."
She whimpers, meeting my thrusts gamely as she rubs and flicks herself. I pinch her nipple hard and I don't let go, squeezing and rolling the firm little nub, my mouth finding her lips and drinking in her cry. I let her pant and whine into me, inhaling both her flaring desire and her protest, how her body melts with pleasure and wilts with pain. She has the most beautiful pair of tits I've ever seen and I wonder what those luscious pink nipples would look like pierced. I bet she's game.
"You think I'd tie you at dick-height, but you'd be wrong." I fuck her deep, making her moan. Yeah, she likes when I reach deep into that sweet cunt, bottoming out in her. "I would've tied you at tongue-height. Tied you so tight you couldn't wiggle free, and then feasted on this pretty pussy, so open to me. I'd have wrung so many climaxes from you you'd be crying for me to stop, but you couldn't close those legs to make me."
That's what does it. The deviancy. The fight. Her eyes squeeze shut as she comes around me, helpless to the image of herself made willingly helpless. She comes hard, writhing, squeezing me in a vice grip, panting into my mouth as I continue to give it to her exactly how she likes it, pounding her deep. She sweats and drips and shakes and cries, and it's so fucking decadent, so fucking sinful, so fucking perfect.
"Again," I demand, my hand taking over from hers when she falters, my fingers rubbing her clit mercilessly as she shakes and shatters and breaks apart below me. I can barely hold on; she's gonna take me with her when she explodes again.
"Do that," she begs, nearly wailing the plea as her body tries to twist and writhe and I hold her down with my own. "Just like you said," she pants. "I'm not...that girl. But fuck, do that."
"Don't tempt me, bunny." The words grate from my clenched jaw. I want to devour this woman. In this moment, I want every part of her. I won her. She's mine. She's not submissive, no. She wants me to dominate her and she wants to fight me every step of the way. Good. She wouldn't hold this fascination for me if she didn't. "Come for me," I demand. I speed up my hand, rubbing her so hard as I press deep. I'm gonna lose it in another second. Sweat drips from me, and I shake with the effort of holding back. I'm gonna nut in her so good, come inside her and overflow this pussy. It's so taboo, but it's why we went through all those fucking medical tests. We're fluid-bonded now, and she's mine. That means it's my right. "Come for me or I'll tie you down and make you come for me."
She wails as she falls over the edge, taking me along for the ride. I plunge deep and hold, my body seizing as I pump her full, pleasure like fire erupting, cascading through me, bursting like the sweetest drug in my brain. I clamp down, holding her tightly to me, not letting her move though her body jerks and shakes as her pussy milks my length. My hands grab that ass and I cram my dick so far into her I swear I'm embedded in her belly. I claim her so hard no one else will be able to so much as shake her hand without tasting me. It's violent. It's primal. It's so wrong, and I know it even as I decide I don't care. I've never been the possessive type before, but this is my bunny. My Rose. No one else's.
"Good girl," I groan as I get what I want and she does, in fact, sob with pleasure beneath me. Her hands clutch at my skin and I'm sure she's leaving bruises. I don't care. I've left them on her, too. "Good bunny, coming so nice for me. Have I worn you out yet?" I pump gently inside her, feeling the glide of fluid, hers and mine. Oh, that's so fucking good. I grunt as I drag my mouth over hers, swallowing her little whimper.
"Never," she insists, but her words and her body speak two different truths as she shakes. I don't know that I could wring more out of her even with the most intense vibrator.
"Really, bunny?" I chuckle but don't challenge her further, watching instead with very male pride as I pull slowly out of her and a small rush of thick, milky cum follows. She moans softly and reaches down to drag her fingers through it. "Not a porn shoot, baby girl," I say, though fuck, that's seriously hot, I don't care how cliched it is.
"No? We're being filmed." She lifts two fingers covered in my jizz to her mouth and licks them without shame.
I moan. "You keep doing that, bunny, and you're staying on your back for the rest of the weekend." My refractory period isn't long, as she'll find out if she's not careful.
She slips her fingers into that lush pink mouth as if she hasn't heard me. Brazen bunny. I want to fill that mouth with my cock, want to watch it stretch around my girth and silence her smartass taunts as her eyes grow big when she realizes she can't fucking breathe.
She grimaces, withdrawing her fingers and turning to the side to spit. "Sand," she explains, wincing a little as she pulls herself to a sitting position. "Oh, fuck. You're packing a monster. I don't know if my body'll ever be the same."
"C'mere, bunny." I pull her into my lap, my monster perking up when her pretty ass settles against it. "You'll be fine. No one's ever taken me as good as you do."
"Mm." Her palm rubs slowly along my abs, her fingers tracing the ridges and planes of muscle. "You may have just ruined me for non-meatheads, you know, and that's not fair."
I grin, completely without remorse. "You like it deep. Hard. I can do that. I can do more, too."
"Meathead," is her only comeback, which in my opinion means I've won this round. I fucked that mouth into submission. My Rose is sweet and pliant as I hold her in the gathering dusk, her body wrung dry, her tongue unable to form any meaningful insults. I hold her close, slippery and sweet, the air so humid the sweat doesn't dry from our bodies.
"Tell me who you are." I know the rules—no identifying information. No last names. But I have to know something. Why is she here? Is it just the rush she craves? I draw a finger gently along her well-fucked pussy, feeling her jerk against me. She's still leaking our combined cum, which is incredibly hot. In the real world I wrap up, so playing with her used pussy leaking my cum like this is so taboo and it turns me on like nothing else. I rub her idly, holding her firmly against my chest with my other arm so she can't wiggle away.
"I'm an adrenaline junkie," she confesses finally, which, sorry baby, I already knew. "I crave speed." Her tongue licks thoughtfully over her lower lip. "I bang on cars for a living. My license was suspended because I don't flirt well enough to get out of tickets."
I laugh heartily; I can't help it. I hold her close and pin her arm so she can't whack me. Because of course she tries. Because that's who she is. "My poor little bunny without her wheels."
"I'm not a bunny."
"No," I agree. "You're my hellcat with that fine-ass tail." This she doesn't object to, and don't think I don't notice that shit. "Maybe think about chasing the high with me, baby? Instead of fighting me every time? I don't mind—in fact, that shit's hot. But it's gonna make for a long weekend."
I swear I can see the blue of her eyes even in the darkness. "I'm not fighting you right now. If I were, you'd know it."
All I can do is kiss her. And cup her breast, but hey, I won that right, and as she pointed out, she's not fighting me right now. Instead she kisses me back, undaunted by my force. I intimidate a lot of chicks, but not this one. She gives as good as she gets.
"You'll be the death of me, bunny." I lick the smooth column of her throat, the light purple mark that will deepen overnight. I wonder if she's realized I marked her yet.
"But what a way to go." She gazes at me for a moment and I swear I see a flicker of...something...in her eyes. Then she leans back, breaking eye contact as she settles against me. "I really have to thank Jasper."
"Jasper?" My hand closes tightly around her hip, fingers digging into her ass. "You know Jasper?" It's not a common name. In this small circle there probably isn't another. Suddenly I'm furious.
"Of course?" It comes out like a question, like my response confuses her. I don't know what's confusing about it. She's mine. The buzz of our smartbands should have clued her in if my jizz leaking from her cunt didn't. "He's the one who told me about the Game," she adds, which only makes it worse. Yeah, I'm livid. I'm an easygoing guy, but apparently not when it comes to this girl. I would have ripped that other hunter apart given the chance and there's no guarantee I won't if I see him again, considering how he threatened my bunny. Knowing she knows Jasper just fuels the same fire. My dude's a good guy but he's a pig when it comes to chicks and the thought that he knows my bunny, even possibly had his dick near this pussy, is unacceptable. I don't care who she's been with, but not him.
"He told you about this fucked-up Game?" I demand. "Did he want you to play?"
"Uh, no. Not at all." She frowns at me, her eyes flicking between mine, but suddenly her gaze clears and she laughs. "You're jealous."
"You're mine now, bunny." For more than just the weekend, if I have anything to say about it. That's not how this Game works, but I don't care. Fuck the rules. Fuck it all. This one's mine.
"You're gonna be so embarrassed when you hear the truth." She laughs and slowly dislodges herself, rising to her feet. Her little wince as she stretches fills me with male pride. She'll be feeling me for days, and I have no remorse about that.
"What's the truth?" I climb upright, holding her hips lightly. I don't think she'll try to run again, but I can't put anything past my bunny. My Rose.
"You have no reason to be jealous of Jasper." She snorts. "That's...disgusting, actually. You're a pig."
"No," I correct, "I'm a man who just claimed the prize he's been hunting all day."
"I guess that's true," she allows. "Do we get to go back to the resort now, since I lost? Wallow in comfort?"
"You bet, bunny." I don't mind the outdoors, but sex on the sand means now we're both covered in it, and it's not exactly comfortable. Plus, she took all my shit and I'm still starving. "How does a shower and then lobster sound?"
She eyes me appraisingly. "A bath and filet mignon."
"You got it, bunny." Whatever she wants, so long as she understands that she's mine for the weekend—and longer, if I can convince her. "Look at it this way. The good thing about being caught on the first day is what you have to look forward to on the second."
"I ate all your gummy bears," she confesses without remorse, ignoring my innuendo. Yeah, she's gonna fight me for each encounter, just as she promised. I can see it in her eyes. And she's gonna love it every. Single. Time.
"I'll get us some more," I promise, smacking her ass lightly to get her walking. "But you don't get my shorts for the walk back."
That glimmer of challenge lights in her eyes again. "If I don't, neither do you."
She takes off up the rocks. I watch for only a moment before lighting out after her, because I do not trust this woman one bit. "Game on, bunny."
Special thanks to prereaders Ickle Pixie and Milk40, and to Pearly Fox, who made my gorgeous banner!