I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I do this. Her.
And she has just made it all the hotter by accepting a race she must know she can’t win.
“How much of a head start do you want?” I ask as I strip off my shoes and socks. She flicks her heels onto the other side of the room. Sensible girl, they’d slow her down.
But the arch of her foot—so damn pretty. Everything about Jessa is sexy. The combined effect of the image in my mind of what I’m going to do to her when I catch her—because this is predetermined, I will catch her—and the allure of being the hunter, means my cock is rock hard.
“I don’t know your house. Thirty seconds.”
I chuckle. “Sounds like you think you’re not fast enough to outrun an old man, sweetheart.” Turning forty last year I did momentarily feel like I was on a downhill. Too many years of work to get to the top of the London mafias. But remembering Jessa was out there, just nearly at the age for me to claim? Seeing her in snaps and bursts when I can get away from my duties for an hour and replace her driver, or watch her while she goes for a run. That makes me feel eighteen again, but in a good way. Without the inexperience of being a new mafia boss, but with the all-out horniness, constant hard-on, and cockiness that luck is with you.
“I know I’m faster. I just don’t trust you,” she snaps, but I see how she can’t help but be drawn to the sight of my body. She’s noticed my erection and keeps flicking her gaze to the bulge in my trousers then away, like she’s repeatedly telling herself not to look. That thin silk dress is revealing and her chest has gone pink with… Is it arousal? I’ll enjoy finding out.
“You will.” There is nothing like overwhelming pleasure and multiple orgasms to prove good intentions. “Ten seconds.”
“Thirty seconds, or no deal.” Her throat bobs as she swallows and she scuffs the carpet with her bare toes.
My proud girl. I almost remind her that this was her idea and I wanted to woo her gently over a whole month, building her trust gradually until she begged me to fuck her. But she won’t accept anything less than a man so much stronger than her that he can take her down with a ridiculous handicap. An impossible handicap. Alright. She needs a display of masculine power to make her feel safe. I’ll do that. For her.
I can’t deny that I’m turned on as fuck by this. And while her final capitulation—me thrusting inside her deep, breeding her as I’ve thought of every night for the past few years as I harshly fisted my cock until I came—will only be when she asks me for it, there are a lot of other things I can do to her in twenty-four hours.
I hold out the key to the front door. “One. Two.”
Her eyes go wide.
“Three.”
Snatching the key from my palm, she takes off at a run, a blur of blonde hair, white silk, and pink skin as she jerks the door to her suite open and flees into the hallway. Her fist holds the key, clenched. I follow to watch her from the hall as I continue counting aloud. I’ve watched her run before, but this is so much better. She reaches the end of the corridor as I get to ten.
A bolt of uncertainty goes through me. I’ll have to be quick. Very quick to catch her before she gets out. And then what? She’ll be taken by her murderous brother. Absolutely not.
She hesitates at the end of the passageway, and as I watch, my heart in my mouth, she bolts right, down the other corridor… Away from the front door.
I’m at fifteen when the thump of her footsteps slows. Sixteen and there’s silence. Seventeen and a choking mew of realisation. There are stairs on that side of the house. But there is the library between her and those stairs, or several closed doors that lead to anterooms and further bedrooms. She doesn’t know that. All she knows is this isn’t familiar, and she went the wrong way.
I smile. Because she has just levelled the playing field for us. I keep counting, and at twenty-seven I’m twitching with the need to run after her. Twenty-eight and I see her flash past the end of the corridor. She looks down at me and I see bright eyes, but alongside the panic there’s a curve of anticipation as she twists to hold me in sight for an extra split-second. This chase has got under her skin already. Running for her life is a game she never thought she’d get to play with anyone she trusted enough to enjoy it.
“Thirty.” I take off at a sprint. My erection really shouldn’t help with this, but the predator’s instinct is engaged and I’m vibrating with need. My soft little prey is there, and I will get her before she can harm herself.
I reach the turn of the passage in time to see her only ten steps ahead in the wide corridor. Grabbing a chair and toppling it into my path, she keeps running.
Smart. She thinks I’m a big muscled clutz. I hurdle the chair in one bound. My landing is heavy but I pick back up my stride instantly.
She squeaks as she checks behind her and sees I cleared her obstacle.
She hitches up her white dress further to free her legs. Far more than is necessary. She’s run so far with her skirt around her knees, but she drags it all the way almost to her nipped-in waist, revealing the full length of the legs I can’t wait to run my hands down. If she’s trying to distract me, it’s no Atalanta’s apple. All her actions do is spur me on.
That peek of her thigh and the curve of her arse focuses me. I can see the line of her white knickers against her soft and creamy-looking skin. She’s delicious and I can’t wait to make her mine. I’m going to enjoy every sweet part of her.
Everything is at stake. Not just my future with this enticing, innocent girl, but her protection. Her very life if I let her escape and put herself back in harm’s way. It won’t take her fiancé long to realise he’s been conned, and his bride never stepped onto the plane.
And if she’s vulnerable and alone at that point…
It’s that thought that makes my legs pound furiously. I close the gap, faster than she is and more determined. My thighs burn with the effort, and my knees twinge with every step. I ignore all the pain and push harder.
She gets to the stairs and I’m only a second behind her as she bounds down. I almost shout for her to be careful. But she’s swift and sure-footed.
She’s going to reach the front door before I do. I’ll catch her before she can unlock the door, but the moral victory will be hers. The minx. Despite her mistake, she’s fast and nimble.
The thought of her arguing has me vaulting the bannister over the last flight of stairs and landing with a crunch that with all the adrenaline I barely feel, but know my knees will complain about later.
As I hit the floor and propel myself forwards she runs straight into me, unable to halt her momentum. The key clatters on the marble floor.
She’s in my arms.
She’s mine.
That doesn’t stop her though.
