Page 4 of Righteous Deceit

I was enraptured.

I became obsessed.

I watched her like a man possessed. I replayed her hours of footage time and again, watching the gives in her body. The freedom and pleasure that flickered in the soft edge of her muscles.

I became consumed by her.

Everything about her screamed to something primal within me. I’ve never seen her face, but her body has tattooed itself on the inside of my eyelids. She’s thick. There would be no thigh gap, and I know if I pushed that skimpy fucking negligee she wears up over her hips, there would be dimples on her ass and thighs. Markings for me to frame with my hands as I squeezed and bruised. My mouth waters at the thought, and I swallow my lust to concentrate.

The Quest is generally a group event. A collection of huntsmen and an array of prey are divided into three groups, differentiated by the color of the hood that works as a beacon. No one belongs to anyone in particular. The huntsmen are only confined by the color of hood they elect to chase, and those rules are gospel.

My obsession only ever wears red. As a hunter, I can chase her, but I’m forbidden from touching, even to capture. She can concede once cornered, and the hunt ends. Or time runs out, and I exit defeated.

A large collection of women wear gold. A hunter will chase and has permission to capture through force. The golden women like to fight. Within reason.

A smaller selection of women wear purple. A rich indigo that makes them near impossible to spot in the dark. They’re harder to see because the reward is bountiful. The prey who dons purple participates to betaken.They will fight capture until they’re screaming for surrender, but their shouts for mercy will morph into that of pleasure as they’re pushed beyond their limits and succumb to the dominating force of the man pursuing her.

The crack of twigs alerts my senses, and I turn toward the sound, listening intently. She attempts to bite back the soft grunt of pain the stumble causes, but it echoes along her vocal cords, and I move closer.

She comes into view, her head moving left and right slowly, ears as alert as mine.

My gaze licks over her bare legs, and as though she can feel the fire in my eyes, she turns, searching in the shadows. But no matter how hard she pushes her eyes, she can’t see me. She steps forward and then back, squinting into the darkness. She twists on the spot, careful to remain as quiet as possible. She searches with only her eyes and ears. Her instincts know she has company, but her eyes deceive her.

I clear my throat, not ready for her to move away from me. She turns her face, chin to her shoulder. Her smirk is visible in the moonlight, and I grin.

“Confident,tesoruccio.”

My voice is almost lost in the breeze, but she shivers.

She makes a soft sound of disapproval. “Il mio stupido lupo.”

My silly wolf.She’s Italian. Interesting.

Without another word, she darts to the right, her feet moving faster than they have all night.

A growl of approval tails her retreat, and I bite my lip to stop any further sounds from escaping.

I have no idea how much time has passed. Rules stipulate the hunter has two hours to capture or corner his chosen prize, and I’m annoyed that our time could be coming to an end.

I fight the panic that forms in my chest at the realization I won’t be able to see her again for another month.

I could never go back to watching her on my screen. Replays or playing audience will no longer suffice. I’ve had a taste of her scent. I’ve listened to the hitch in her breathing and the heavy but expert pad of her feet against the earth.

My prize in the dark has invigorated me.

I had to jump through a multitude of hoops to hunt her alone. One-on-one experiences are rare and expensive in a way that seems ridiculous when there’s a no-touch rule in place. I’m paying a small fortune to breathe her air. But I know I’ll do it again next month. And the month after that.

I can see a peek of her red hood hidden among the trees, and I step closer. “Sei mia ora.”

You’re mine now.

Her gasp sends blood straight to my cock.

But it’s lost against a loud horn that pulsates through the manufactured maze, and I bite my lip to curb the need to swear in frustration.

“Not tonight,” she speaks into the shadows.

I laugh lightly. “Oh,tesoruccio.We both know if I wanted this to end, I would have cornered you over an hour ago. You’re good, but I’m better.”