The Girl Who Ran Like The Wind (Myths Retold)

by Normandie Alleman

  She sat so patiently, waiting for what he would do next, and he liked how this spirited young woman had let him take the lead. At first he took her for a ball buster, but now she seemed as docile as a kitten.

  Make that a sex kitten, he thought, saying, "Lay back and spread your legs for me."

  She did as he asked, splaying those long, shapely legs to reveal a pretty pink pussy all wet and glistening. The tips of her smallish breasts hardened as a soft breeze blew past, and she wore a shameless come and get me look on her naughty face.

  She looked so inviting he had to taste her.

  Crouching between her legs, he reached up and fondled her breasts as his tongue began its exploration of her folds.

  He licked up and down her sex, pausing whenever she arched her back or cried out. He wanted her to enjoy the experience to the fullest, and he thought he was doing a good job when she tensed all her muscles tight. Tight. Tighter, and then a wave of silken girl cum spilled from her pussy, and she released a satisfied sigh.

  "My turn," he said, climbing on top of her and pushing his cock inside her slick opening.

  Her hips tilted to meet his and she grabbed for him wildly, owning his mouth with her eager tongue. Each thrust was met with an equal response from her. This girl was a hellcat.

  He couldn't get enough of her, and it seemed like she couldn't get enough of him either.

  After a few minutes, she locked her legs around his torso and with one quick movement, flipped them over so she was riding him.

  Damn! She was so fucking gorgeous with those lovely breasts bouncing in his face as she lifted herself up and down on his dick.

  Where had this woman come from? It had all happened so fast that he wondered if he could be dreaming. Except, his dreams never had such vivid colors—the deep brown of her eyes, those pink lips, the green grass... And she smelled so good, sweet like berries, but with a hint of something more exotic.

  Surely he couldn't smell if he was dreaming.

  She leaned down and kissed him again. It was all he could stand.

  Gripping her hips, he held her steady as he pushed himself deep inside her from below.

  At first she tried to wriggle loose from his grasp, but he wrestled for control. It was his turn again.

  Once she realized she was powerless against him, she threw her head back and moaned with pleasure as he rocked her body from beneath. Her legs began to tremble, and he suspected she was on the verge of coming again.

  It wasn't long before they both found their release, and he filled her with his cum.

  She collapsed onto him, then curled up in the crook of his arm, panting and spent.

  He stroked her hair and held her to him.

  "That was incredible. You're incredible."

  She gave him a quick squeeze. "You're not so bad yourself."

  Birds chirped in the distance, and he marveled at how comfortable it was lying on the ground in the woods with her. The clouds rolled slowly by above, and he was filled with a peace he hadn't experienced in longer than he could remember.

  Utterly content, he closed his eyes for a brief moment.

  The next thing he knew, he felt a chill and when he rolled over the cold hard ground startled him.

  Where was he?

  Then it all came back to him, and he looked around for the girl.

  But she was nowhere. The sun was going down, and he knew he'd have to hurry if he wanted to find her.

  He dressed in record time and started to call for her.

  The problem was he didn't know her name! He smacked himself in the head, muttering, "Idiot.”

  Not sure what else to say, he called, "Hello?"

  Looking around, he felt a surge of panic as he realized how late it was. He was about to be alone in the woods in the dark. A slight burst of irritation with her stabbed at his heart. She shouldn't have left him alone out there.

  He pushed those thoughts aside. He needed to focus and find his way back to the roads he knew.

  Fortunately, his military training had included tracking, and it didn't take him long to get to the road where he'd originally seen her.

  He decided to trace their steps. Maybe he would find her...

  The sun was almost gone now, and he sprinted back to that spot, cursing himself the whole way. He'd just met the most enchanting woman in the world. She had been more spectacular than his wildest dreams. How could he have let her get away like that?

  Cursing himself, he tried to think...

  Then he remembered the man he’d spoken to earlier. The one at the farm stand.

  Maybe he knew who she was.

  Breaking into a run, he hoped the old man would still be there.

  When he got to the spot where the stand had been, the cart was there—all closed up, but the man was nowhere in sight.

  Hip kicked up a cloud of dirt in frustration.

  "Hey. Must you do that?" a grouchy voice called out.

  Hip stopped kicking and looked over his shoulder to see the old man. He was leading a horse, and it looked like he was about to hitch his cart to it.

  "Sorry. Hey, earlier when I came by asking you about something that flew past me. Turned out it was a girl."

  "I remember."

  "Well, I thought maybe you might know her."

  The man looked surprised. "What? You don't?"

  Hip felt his cheeks warm. "Well, I just met her, and you see, she, um... Well, I didn't catch her name, but I absolutely must see her again."

  The old man shook his head. "Let me give you some advice, son."

  Hip was in no mood for advice, but waited to hear what the old man had to say out of politeness.

  "Forget about that girl. She'll only bring you heartache." Then he laughed and added, "Unless you're the fastest runner in the world."

  Hip balled his fists. "Why? Who is she?"

  "Why, that girl, that’s Princess Atalanta."

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The morning after his tryst with Atalanta, Hip woke up with one thought on his mind—he had to win the heart of Atalanta.

  Apparently, he'd been too steeped in military life to have noticed all the hype over the princess and the eccentric way the royal family had chosen to find her future husband. When it came to government he paid more attention to the global matters of Darteen, issues between the regions the various gods and goddesses controlled. On a provincial level, he followed sports so he was surprised he’d missed all the excitement over the royal races, but if he'd seen the word "princess" he likely glossed over it.

  His mother had been a royal watcher, but until he fell for Atalanta he'd had no use for the royal family. In his mind they mostly interfered with, rather than assisted in, military operations and their purpose seemed to be more as figureheads than real leaders. It was common knowledge that all rulers served at the pleasure of their ruling deity, though it wasn’t politically correct to discuss this publicly.

  Though he'd heard the king was a tough but fair man.

  The first thing Hip did was fix himself some eggs in his tiny apartment, and then he sat down to search for all the information he could find on the girl while he ate his breakfast. He felt like a stalker, but it couldn't be helped.

  After consuming a ton of content, he was less than thrilled with what he'd found.

  The princess had a reputation for being quite a barracuda when it came to men. Some reports stated that there were currently over thirty men who had been caught with her in flagrante and who were now serving time for it.

  Nervously, he ran a hand through his hair. It hadn't occurred to him that bedding the princess was a crime. Hell, he hadn't known she even was a princess when she took him into the woods.

  But all the pictures he saw of her, smiling, waving to fans—they were all her. The girl of his dreams was definitely the princess.

  Frustrated, he pushed back his chair and tossed his plate into the sink with a clatter.

  Yes, she'd been forward with him—clearly a woman experienced i
n the art of love—but he didn't believe her to be the cold, heartless maneater the articles claimed her to be.

  He wiped his mouth and threw on his clothes.

  He just needed to see her. That would make everything all right.

  AN HOUR LATER HE STOOD in front of a palace guard.

  Hip shifted his weight from one foot to the other as the guard inspected his identification chip.

  "And what business is it you have again with the princess?"

  "I just need to see her, that's all." Hip inhaled deeply and tried to stay chill, but he wanted to push past this guy and run through the palace calling her name—now that he knew it.

  The guard with a name tag that read "Carl" put his palm on Hip's chest.

  Hip wanted to react, but he realized he needed to remain calm, no matter how hard his heart was pounding in his chest.

  "Son, you're not going in there." The guard jerked his head at the opulent palace behind him. The massive stone structure complete with gilded spires atop the soaring towers mocked Hip, and he struggled to come up with something plausible.

  "You don't understand. The princess, yesterday I saw her and she... she dropped something. I need to return it to her."

  "You may leave it with me." Carl held out his hand, and Hip knew his quest to see Atalanta was doomed. At least this afternoon.

  Hip made a show of digging in his pockets then bringing out his hands again empty. "Oh no. I must have left it at home."

  "Uh huh, right. Are you one of the princess' suitors?" His eyes narrowed suspiciously at Hip.

  "No, nothing like that," Hip insisted. After reading those stories about Atalanta's former lovers, he had no interest in joining them behind bars.

  He considered leaving a note for Atalanta, but he knew the guard would probably read it, and he had no way of knowing it would get to her in the end.

  "I'll just go back home and find it. The thing... belonging to the princess that is," Hip said, taking first one step back and then another.

  "You do that. And I don't want to see you around here unless you're bringing back that lost item for the princess. What is it anyway, that she dropped?"

  Hip thought fast. "A hair tie."

  The guard scoffed. "Princess Atalanta has a million hair ties. I doubt she needs you bringing one around here. Be gone with you before I summon the head of security."

  "Yes, sir." Hip turned and walked at a rapid pace. He hadn't thought that through, and he realized his error could have landed him in jail.

  It wasn't like him to be so shortsighted.

  That woman had turned him upside down.

  Enough running around half-cocked, it was time to think things through.

  What he needed was a plan.

  SKYWRITING.

  That could be interesting, but what would he say?

  Everything he could think of would either be inappropriate or idiotic.

  Scratch that.

  Every day he went for a run near where he first encountered the princess. He hoped he would catch a glimpse of her, but he never did.

  He did, however, come across the man with the produce cart, and when he questioned him further the man told him that Atalanta used to run there several days a week, but he hadn't seen her since the day they had met.

  This irritated Hip.

  He wasn't stupid—she was avoiding him.

  The same way she avoided every man she seemed to get involved with.

  But those men were not him. He was determined to win her heart, and he clearly wasn't going to do it through old-fashioned courtship. Most marriages these days were arranged, and it seemed the only way to marry this woman was to play by the rules set by royal edict.

  So he started running.

  If he wanted Atalanta he was going to have to beat her at her own game, and it wasn't going to be easy.

  Not that he wasn't physically fit.

  He was in great condition, and he'd been an above average runner in school. But beating the fastest person in the world?

  That seemed impossible.

  But Hip had never been one to give up, and when he put his mind to something he stuck with it. He would give this challenge his all.

  The worst-case scenario would be that he ran against her and lost. But even if he lost he'd be able to get close enough to her to plead his case.

  But to be able to do that he needed to prepare for the race as if he intended to win it. Winning would be the answer to all his problems. If he won, Atalanta would be his wife, and that was what he wanted more than anything in the whole world.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Over the next few months Hip trained for his race with Atalanta. He watched all of her races, set them up so he could see them while he was running on a treadmill at the gym. His membership there was his only splurge. He lived in a small apartment, worked a simple construction job to pay his minimal bills, and worked on getting faster.

  His times were improving, but he hit a plateau and was afraid he'd gotten as far as he could go on his own.

  Now he needed a trainer.

  Unfortunately, good trainers cost money, and the temporary construction job he'd signed on with didn't pay much. These days physical fitness trainers who could really get results were expensive.

  Being thin was a luxury and took hard work in a world where all you had to do was press a button and just about any food you could afford would be on your plate in no time. Gluttony had never been more popular, so getting help to fight off bad eating habits and fine-tuning one's body was a pursuit for those with excess money and time.

  The problem was that if he quit his job for something that paid better he wouldn't have the time to train as hard as he needed to.

  Then one day, as he was leaving the gym, two guys crept up behind him and one of them hissed in his ear.

  "Hey, I hear you're planning to run against the princess."

  His senses went on alert, and Hip slowed warily.

  One was big and strong. An Arnold Schwarzenegger wannabe with the kind of buzzcut Hip had been happy to leave behind when he retired from the military.

  The other guy was smaller, darker, but he moved like a cat. He was the more athletic of the two, and the one who had spoken to him.

  "What's it to you?" Hip didn't like strangers prying in his business.

  "Not a thing, man. It's just that Sellers and me, we were wondering if you needed any help."

  So the muscle head was named Sellers.

  "What's your name?" Hip inquired as he continued moving down the street, his new acquaintances matching him stride for stride.

  "Call me Mello."

  "Okay, Mello. What kind of help were you offering, and how much is it going to cost me?"

  "No, man. Nothing like that. We want to help you, not rob you."

  "Right, but what's in it for you?" Hip had been around long enough to know that you didn't get something for nothing.

  Mello shrugged, showing off a row of shiny gold teeth. "I mean, if you were to win, you'd get to marry the princess. That'd make you a prince. Couldn't hurt to know a prince, if you know what I mean."

  Sellers winked at Hip.

  Resisting the urge to shudder, Hip shook his head. "Appreciate it, but I got this."

  Mello's eyes widened and appraised Hip with a frown.

  "If you say so, boss. But if you need some help, we're your guys. That bitch is fast, you know what I'm talkin' about?" Mello laughed, elbowing Sellers in the ribs.

  Anger roiled in Hip's belly. "Don't talk about her like that."

  Mello held up his hands in surrender. "Sorry, man. My bad. You really like her, huh?"

  Hip fumed. These thugs were wasting his time, and he pushed past them.

  "Thanks, but no thanks," Hip said and broke into a run.

  "If you change your mind, we'll be around," Mello called to him. "I've got a secret weapon that'll do the job if you're interested."

  Hip ignored him and kept running. There was no way he was going to get thei
r help and owe those thugs a favor.

  By the end of the night, Hip had already forgotten about his encounter with the two men.

  It wasn't until three months later that they popped into his mind again.

  Breath coming fast, heart thumping hard in his chest, Hip crossed the finish line. He'd concocted his own simulation of the race course where Atalanta ran against her previous suitors.

  Sweat trickled down his back as he glanced at the stopwatch.

  Damn!

  He was still two-tenths of a second behind Atalanta's slowest recorded time. And that was five-tenths of a second slower than her best time.

  There was no way he could beat her.

  A wave of disappointment washed over him, and his shoulders slumped.

  Whether he liked it or not, he'd done everything he knew how to do, and it wasn't enough. He let out a scream, sending all his frustration into the universe.

  Then he hung his head.

  That was it.

  He'd done all he could, and it hadn't been enough. He could train for the rest of his life and never be able to beat Atalanta.

  She'd been born with a gift, and he was no match for her.

  He tried to console himself with the thought that if he raced against her at least he'd be in the arena with her. He'd have the chance to see her, to talk to her. Perhaps he could persuade her to meet him again somewhere—propose a secret affair.

  But in his heart, he knew better. If she wanted to see him again, she would have found him. Instead, he felt like she actively avoided bumping into him.

  And even if he could convince her to go out with him, she might pull another disappearing act. Or worse, he could wind up in jail for having carnal relations with her.

  No, he had to beat her in a footrace and win her hand.

  It was the only way.

  Clenching a fist, he shoved his misgivings aside and went in search of Mello and Sellers.

  He was going to need that secret weapon after all.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  "Turn slightly to the left."

  "My left?" Atalanta asked.

  The man holding the measuring cube nodded. "Yes."