I sit for thirty seconds before I move. My brain is whirling, my heart pounding and my extremities feel as if they’ve got sand in them. Not enough blood. The result is I stumble twice while hurrying down the stairs. Where am I supposed to go? What am I supposed to do? I stand for a moment in the foyer, breathing hard, trying to think, trying to remember…

“Tell me another one,” Rhys whispers in my ear while he holds me down, his fingers sliding in and out of me.

“Mmm…” I wriggle under his touch. “There’s one where I’m being chased.”

“Chased?”

“Stalked.”

His fingers withdraw, circling damply across my thighs. “What are you wearing?”

“A white dress, flowing skirts—I don’t know why—that’s the image I have in my mind. Something pretty. Easy to run in.” I squirm beneath his expert touch. “Rip-able…”

He flips me over, spreading me, leaning on me so I can’t escape while he caresses me from behind.

“Are you caught in this fantasy?” he asks, hand sliding up my spine to my neck.

“Of course.”

“Tell me what happens when you’re caught.”

“No,” I groan. “You tell me.”

Oh God. Oh God, oh God.

This is it. This is the fantasy. I’m supposed to run and he’s suppose to stalk me. I remember very well what he told me he’d do to me when he caught me. Holy fuck! It’s one thing to talk about it while in the throes of passion, letting imagination heighten an erotic interlude, it’s another thing to actually…live it.

“If you don’t run, this will be a very short fantasy.” Rhys’s voice in my ear makes me feel as if my memories have come to life.

“But you can see me.” I turn a circle in the foyer, my arms stretched out. “Where am I supposed to go? You’re watching my every move.”

“I can only see you in and around the house and only while I’m here. Once you leave and once I follow, we will be left to our own devices.”

I stay where I am, staring up at the domed ceiling. Rhys is here somewhere.

“If you don’t want this, Tessa, say it now. Get in your car and leave. No hard feelings.”

I blink, turning. Searching. Thinking…or trying to, but my brain isn’t cooperating.

“If this is what you want, if you wish to live out this fantasy with me…then, the longer you stand there, the less time you have to hide.”

Oh God. Why can’t I control my galloping heart? Why can’t I make a rational decision about this?

I glance at the open door. It calls to me and…I answer.

I don’t think. Nope. I simply run for it, not even considering where I’m going, just letting my feet and gut guide me. I do not head back to the parking lot and my car. Instead, I follow the broken walk up around the north side of the house. There’s another path leading through the forest. I could see it from my window and that’s where I head. Some part of my brain—the fight or flight part—recognizes that the dense trees should be thick enough to provide cover. Once under the cover of the woods, I can change directions and Rhys shouldn’t be able to monitor my movement from the house.

The woods are criss-crossed with paths. Perfect. I don’t pay attention to which ones I take, I simply take one, then another, then another. The ballet flats make my feet feel light and free and soon I find the exercise invigorating. I’m not much of a runner. Normally I hate it; my joints ache, my lungs ache, pretty much it’s my idea of torture and I can think of a million and one more pleasurable ways to work up a sweat.

But this? This is different. I’m a different woman right now and I feel as though I am in a different time; racing through the woods, virtually barefoot, dodging branches and jumping over roots and logs, the running feels natural. Exhilarating. Primal.

“Ready or not.”

Fuck!

I don’t respond. I’m too out of breath. The exhilaration of a second before mutates into something close to panic.

“What are you going to do, Tessa? Hide in the forest or keep running.”

Shit. I knew he would be watching. I stop to lean against a tree, panting. The tall evergreens that seemed so lush and friendly, filtering the bright sun in a pleasant way, now cast shadows that flicker ominously across the path. Which way to go? Danger lurks behind every tree, within every shadow.

“Should I tell you what I’m going to do to you once I catch you?”

A shiver races up and down my spine. One part pleasure. Two parts alarm. “If,” I say in between pants. “If you catch me.”

He makes a rumbling sound that seems to come from some place deep within his chest, echoing through the ear piece, down my throat and settling somewhere in the lowly recesses of my belly.

“When I catch you, Tessa Savage. When.”

Pushing away from the tree, I search the surrounding area. What do I do? Should I hide? Keep running? How long can I run before the burning in my lungs sets in?

“I will catch you. You know that, right?”

I don’t reply as I leave the path. Turning into the heart of the forest, I carefully pick my way over fallen logs and slip beneath low lying branches.

“Then, I’ll immobilize you.”

Immobilize me? I pause to crouch behind an enormous fallen tree covered in a thick, soft moss. I rest my cheek against it. “What does that mean?” I whisper.

He doesn’t answer my question. Instead he says, “I’ll take you to a special place. Somewhere I can enjoy you at my leisure. Take you, just the way I want you.”

It suddenly feels difficult to swallow.

“Because that’s what you want, right Tessa?”

I crawl beneath the tree, getting dirt on the hem of my pretty dress. On the other side is an enormous conifer, a Douglas Fir maybe, or one of those Redwoods. I skirt around it, trying to put more distance between myself and the path. On the far side of the tree is a hollow, the entrance shorter than me. I bend low to take a look inside.

“Tell me. Is that what you want?”

The inside of the tree is completely gutted out and smooth with age. I slip inside, breathing deeply of the woodsy scent. “I don’t know,” I whisper. “What are you going to do to me?” The words tickle up my throat as if hesitant to leave my body, to give myself away, to admit that I want what he’s suggesting and I want it badly.

“I’m going to torture you.”

Gulp. “How?”

“With my hands. My mouth.”

I clutch my stomach as I fall back against the inside of the tree.

“Making you scream. Making you come.”

I close my eyes, forcing myself to take slow, easy breaths.

“You will do my bidding, you’ll have no choice.”

Hol-ee fuck.

“Your nipples will be hard for me, begging for my touch, my mouth…my teeth.”

Images of Rhys, his broad shoulders, his powerful hands taking my breasts and owning them, squeezing, sucking, biting. Oh God!

“The lush, round globes of your ass will be mine. Your skin so pale and perfect, warmed and reddened beneath my hand.”

I clench my thighs together as I focus on his voice, his words painting an erotic picture in my mind.

“I’ll spread your legs and your pussy will be so ready for me.”

The sound that sneaks up my throat is more animal than human.

“In fact, you’re ready right now, aren’t you?”

I suck in a breath and force it out in one long exhalation.

“Touch yourself, Tessa.”

Bunching my skirt around my waist, I snake my hand between my legs and work two fingers inside my panties. Beyond the swollen lips of my pussy is a wet, slippery heat that throbs around my fingers in excitement. God! The man is somewhere else completely and yet already I do as he demands…without complaint, as if he’s right in front of me, seducing me with that killer smile and wicked intent.

“Tell me,” Rhy’s voice demands.

“I’m wet,” I whisper.

“How wet?”

“Fucking wet.”

“Good. I can’t wait to touch you. Taste you. Finger fuck you until you scream my name.”

I’m about to scream his name right now as I involuntarily enact his words with my own fingers.

“You won’t be able to move, you’re just going to have to take it until I make you come. Over and fucking over again.”

I gasp, on the verge of an orgasm.

“Only then will I undo my fly. Stroking myself while I watch you.”

I grunt, my hand moving fast beneath my skirt, a clear image of Rhys standing over me, watching me with a grim expression while he works his cock.

“Before you finish, I’ll sink myself into you. All the way. Nice and fucking deep. And before you have a chance to come down, I’ll make you come again by fucking you hard—nice and hard—just the way you like it.”

That’s it. His words push me over the edge and I clench my thighs around my hand as my pussy shivers and quakes in ecstasy. I don’t know if he’s still talking. I think he is, but I don’t hear words because all I hear is the sound of my panting breath and the little moans that slip from my lips.

Once the orgasm subsides I stay there, resting against the inner wall of the tree, focusing on my breathing. My hand is still wedged between my legs, cupping, until the pulsing stops. Slowly, slowly I work my hand out. God. I’m so, so sensitive.

I open my eyes. Everything seems quiet. Unnaturally quiet.

Too quiet.

“Rhys?” I whisper. When he doesn’t answer, I repeat his name again.

A twig snaps nearby, then I hear his voice. “Still can’t keep quiet when you come, huh baby?”

Oh shit! Is that his voice in the ear piece or do I hear him so clearly because he’s standing right outside the fucking tree?