Page 3 of Hunting Gianna

They make me want her more. They make me want her now.

And there she is, the cam catching my attention again. Dancing by the fire. Not even worrying about it. A snap of envy hits me for that kind of freedom, and then it's gone. She takes off the too-tight tank, wipes her face with it, leaves it crumpled on the ground like a small flag. Her big, perky tits are bouncing as she sways her hips, a big grin splitting her face. She's dirty and careless. I'm hard. This whole game is beneath me, but it feels better than it should.

How fucking naive is she?

It wasn't a lie when I told the others to stay away.

I don’t plan on letting anyone else ever see her like this.

My cheeks flush and my cock is leaking and all this pent-up fucking energy has no where to go. So I shut off the feeds, slam the rest of the bottle and force myself to sleep. Tomorrow, I’m leaving her one of the stones in my collection and the photograph I took of her.

Tomorrow, she will either come to her senses and leave… or she will become part of my world.

I arrive before dawn, watch the world wake up with her in it. Her tent unzips and it's like she unwraps herself, stretching into the morning. A breath of air. The rise of her ribs. I want to press my teeth into that vulnerable skin and claim her now, but this isn'thunger. This is a slow feeding. A steady gorging. I set the next trap, a long, smooth stone, perfect for river skipping, right in her path, putting the photo right underneath.Surely she will see this. An unnatural hidden in the perfectly pristine forest. She steps over it, as careless and fucking perfect as ever. This time, it’s even sweeter.

Gianna, a bite of fruit left out to take, a heart left out to hunt.

How does she not see what she's asking for? How does she not know that I’m out here, my desire for her growing sharp enough to taste?It fills my mouth, slicks my skin, curls me around her.

Another day, another obsession.

Once I make my move, she might fight. Leave me some pretty battle scars, but she won’t escape.

Because she will come to understand that when it clicks, it clicks. Much like the closing of handcuffs, or the snap of a trap. There is no mistaking the moment your prey realizes that there is no way out.

I lower the binoculars as she heads out for another hike, and force the impatience down, feel it gnaw at my insides. She’ll know it then, her freedom is mine to construct. Like an architect. My possession.

My chest tightens around the thought, and I walk faster.

I circle her camp while she's gone, letting the need build, feeling my control splinter and crack. I want this to hurt. I want it to hurt me. Her shirt is where she left it, and I bring it to my face, breathing her into me. As close as I can get without forcing her beneath me, and not nearly close enough. I should have made my move this morning. Should have pinned her down and swallowed her whole. My body betrays me. My thoughts betray me. I can't stop this delicious tension, the one stretching and coiling, testing its limits before it breaks.

Like I’m testing myself. Making sure she’s worth the effort. Making sure I am, as well. Leaning in, I grab a pair of her underwear. Lace. Black. Some skimpy little thing that she has no use for unless it’s to wear for me.

Her smell. Her sweat. I know them now.

I want to see how loud she screams.

And then I want to swallow her whole as she comes around my cock.

Chapter One

Gianna

Theduffelisheavierthan I remember, straps digging into my shoulders, but I keep a fast pace. Maybe I'll beat my own record. Maybe I'll prove to myself I'm not as weak as the bastard said. Breaths burn as I hike up the ridge, sweat dripping down my back and heart pumping a fierce, steady rhythm. My hair whips against my cheeks as I push through the trees. Nothing is holding me back. Not today. I find the clearing and dump the load, triumphant and gasping. My pack is lighter withouthisshit weighing me down.

I drop to my knees, lungs bursting, and throw my head back, welcoming the sharp bite of mountain air.Finally. Away from all of it. I trace the path with my eyes, feeling the distance in mymuscles, the clean ache of escape. Two months ago, my life felt like one of those traumatic comedy movies. A list of mediocrities disguised as exotic adventures. Heartbreak on the high seas. Fuck that. I’m on dry land now. And the only thing I'm diving into is me.

It wasn't supposed to end that way, with me swallowing a bitter pill along with his last limp kiss. I'd rather be seasick for a year than hear those words again. He thought he was such a prize. But I know better. His final insult wasn't the first blow. He didn't just suck in bed. He sucked the fucking life out of me. One soul-sucking night at a time. "Gianna," he said, with that sad puppy dog face, like I was going to beg him to stay. "Gianna, you're just not adventurous enough." No shit, Sherlock. You're dumping me for the bartender with tits the size of Florida? That part went unsaid.

Joke's on him, because I'm off that love boat for good.

I turn slow circles in the clearing, letting the sun warm me and melt all his lies away.

Solitude stretches in front of me, wide as the sky and just as sweet.

The wind catches my hair and spins it out behind me. A long white cloud settles against the edge of a bright blue horizon. Even if this was the same camp spot, I hardly recognized it at first. I’m not the same girl who was here before. I’ve been moving, moving, moving for so long. Hundreds of people breathing down my neck. Breathing my air. Crowded intocabins, onto dance floors. I should have my own fucking set of gills. But here, there’s space enough to feel like I might grow my own wings instead.

I slip out of my sweatshirt and wrap it around the bulging duffel bag, laying claim to the whole damn place. A breeze carries the fresh scent of pine and moss. Birds sing above me.Hello, sky. Hello, mountains. Hello, sanity.

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