Page 6 of Hunting Gianna

One in the same, that's the trick of it.

But this is one part I want awake. I want her to feel it, to fight it, to understand it. I want to fuck her until she can’t breathe and she wakes up with my cock buried inside her. Her hips will roll, even as her mind struggles to catch up to the fact that I devoured her soul.

The desperate longing turns into something just as desperate. Something not as soft, something that I push away but can't let go. Her chest rises, falls, in sync with mine. She is unaware of how I match her rhythm, how even my pounding heart finds a way to get in tune, gets in tune without trying. Even in sleep she trains me.

Gianna. My little bird.

This is closer than I should get. I should have been in the cabin. Not watching her shift against the tight confines of the sleeping bag. Not seeing how the space wraps around her as tight as the warmth of her breath and raw desire wrap around me. My breath catches in my throat as she moves again, a subtle twist, her arm sneaking out and bringing the bag back with it. She turns and tucks it tight beneath her chin, hiding the body I want to swallow, hiding but not enough.

The heaviness in my chest mirrors the heaviness of my body. I want her. The thought lands on me and Ineed her,the longer it stays. Want her so much that I feel it all the way down, fisting my hand around myself, holding tight until it hurts.

I could go now, slip back through the trees and pretend that it's enough to have gotten this far. But I know the lie before I can even tell it.

Another twitch, a murmur, another restless shift. This is the part where I close the distance. This is the part where I close the deal. I shake my head at how close I am to doing it. She doesn't see me but I'm here, the idea both soothes and wounds. I could wake her up, shake her out of her blissful fucking dreams, teach her the sharp truth about this wild place. I could take her with force and make her crave it.

I could and I won't.

It's too good this way, a game.

I'm playing and she's not. The rules are simple.

I will win, because I’m the only one who holds all the cards.

The tension pulls me forward, pulls me in, pulling my control until it's like a breaking fucking thread. I dig my nails into my palm and squeeze my cock before I come just from the way I imagine her wrapped around me. Holding, waiting, bleeding energy into the earth while it bleeds into me. Wanting it now, wanting to see her fight and make her mine.

I keep my eyes steady on the curve of her neck. If I look too long, if I look away, I won't leave. I have to leave. I have to make her see me.

I have to wait. I need to be sure that she’s the one.

The beginning and the end.

I close my eyes.

Then open them.

I'm still here. So is she. She is everything I need and more than I thought I'd want. I don't look away and I don't look too close, waiting for the distance to come on its own, waiting for me to allow it, for me to find some way to break this knot before it chokes me.

The last shred of sense is gone before the rest. It's only my stubbornness, only that rarest fucking moment of clarity, that makes me loosen the knot and makes me wait.

Tomorrow. Or the next day.This is my promise, little bird.

One deep breath and I finally pull back. It's the kind of deep breath I haven't taken since I first found her. A breath that's not the same as hers.

Mine is raspy, rough around the edges. Shaky.

I retreat with clenched hands, with sharp lungs. Each step away from her burns, until the cold mountain air forces me to look at how far I haven't gone. I circle the camp, knowing how easy it is to stay and watch over her, but I cant. I have to go. Away from this little bird. But I also know how easy it will be to return, to do this right, to turn the tight, dizzy knot into a clean, straight line, drawn as thin as her fucking breath, as thin as mine.

The control isn't like I thought it would be. But it is. It's not enough until it's all that’s left. She can have this night alone, watching from a distance, from up close, from every fucking angle. When it clicks, she’ll know it, know how it happens. I hold the patience of a Saint. Each second a sacrifice and each second a gift.

I am above her, looking down. I am beside her, looking in. I am everywhere she hasn't imagined, everywhere she has. The way her breath moves her ribs and the way her chest moves mine—these are what keep me, what bind me, what draw me to thissingle fucking point in the center of the world. A beautiful girl named Gianna, sleeping and mine. And mine. And fucking mine.

It aches. But it's a good kind of ache. I can stand it. It makes me harder. Makes me want it more. Makes me push every ounce of patience to its breaking point, to its snapping point.

She's still sleeping as I slip from her view. Pain sits in my chest as I walk away, but I do it anyway. I walk in wide, impatient circles, tracking the long path from her body to her car, to her escape. The escape she won't make.

There is no escaping me.

I get to her car and lay beneath it searching. Much like I want to be back at her camp. In her tent. Under her. Looking into her fucking soul. Looking in to her whole world, the world I'll have the moment I give in and make her understand. She's mine. She's so fucking mine.

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