Jackson smiled as the other two hunters hooted. Jake looked disgusted. “Oh, I won’t, Miss Amy, I won’t.”
The shaving gear was brought out. Amy eased up her dress and lay down on the couch. She wore no panties—she couldn’t bear to have them on for a third day. She stared at the ceiling while Jackson crouched down between her legs. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.
All the sexual excitement she had experienced during the hunt was gone now. Amy felt like a slab of meat, laid out for the sexual gratification of these men—well, three of them anyway. She glanced at Jake, and noticed he had turned his head from the scene. She was grateful for that, at least.
“Jackson,” Jake’s voice froze the black man. “I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars if you forego this little ritual.”
Jackson looked up from between Amy’s widespread legs. “Huh,” he said, pursing his lips. “You know I’m worth millions, just like you,” he said finally, still holding the shaving cream can in one hand.
“I know.” Jake waited.
Jackson glanced down at Amy’s sparse blond hair covering her mound, then up at the woman’s tear-streaked face. Suddenly he felt a little ashamed of himself. This had been Steve’s fetish, not his. Ten grand made his decision easier. “All right—but it’s gotta be in cash.”
“Jeez, I don’t have ten grand on me right now, Ja—I mean, Mr. Black.”
“Well, then,” he smiled and squirted a dollop of shaving cream into his hand. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
“I have the cash,” Amy said suddenly, freezing everyone once again.
Jackson glared at her. “You’d give up your consolation prize to avoid this?”
“In a New York minute.”
“It’s just a loan, Amy. I’ll pay you back.”
Amy got up and slipped her dress on, a shudder passing through her. She retrieved her envelope full of cash and handed it over to Mr. Black without a word. She wouldn’t splay herself out for these men. She just wanted to go home. Mr. Black pocketed the money and gave her a broad smile.
“That’s it, then,” Bollinger said. “Are you ready to go, Amy?”
She nodded, feeling very old and very tired. “You’re damn right.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jake checked the address outside the quiet street near San Francisco’s Market Street area. The fog was rolling in and he shivered despite the season. Mark Twain had been right. It was summer everywhere but here, he decided. He went upstairs and knocked on an apartment door on the third floor. The door opened on a chain. “Amy?”
One eye stared back at him. “You have the check?” He nodded and passed it through to her. The door closed. He waited. Nothing happened. He knocked again.
The door opened again. It was still chained. “Amy? Umm, can we talk?”
She eyed him for a long minute. Then the door closed and Jake heard the rattling of the chain. She opened it and let him in. Her face was set in a mask, her eyes blank.
Jake was taken aback. Stupidly, he had expected her to throw herself into his arms. They were finally together, able to pick up where they left off, but Amy hadn’t forgiven him.
But then, why should she?
“What’s wrong?” he murmured. He took a deep breath, knowing what a stupid question that was.
She exploded. “What’s wrong? You can ask what’s wrong after the way I was kidnapped, chased like a dog through the woods, exposed to a bunch of leering men—you included—and you have to ask what’s wrong?”
Jake stepped back, the blood draining from his face. Deep down, he supposed he should not have been surprised. What happened out there between them was a product of the hunt. Now that she’s back home, the horror of the event, and her embarrassment over her liaison with him had turned to anger.
“You waltz in here, thinking maybe you can fuck me again? Is that it? Or maybe you’ve come to claim your ‘prize,’ huh?” She pulled her dress off over her head, then unhooked her bra and peeled down her panties. “Okay, Mr. Hunter, here’s your prey. Come and claim me!”
Jake let his eyes fall to the ground. He could hear her harsh breathing. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I can’t undo what’s been done. We were stupid and cruel.”
“You bet your ass you were! I’d like to lock up that arrogant Mr. White or whatever his name is! He’s out there now, planning another hunt! And you! You rich guys think you can do anything you want!”
“But-But what about us? Didn’t we experience something strange and wonderful?”
Amy made a dismissive sound. “That was—that was—I don’t know what that was.” She turned away, suddenly embarrassed at being nude. She reached down and snatched up her dress and held it against her. “I’m not sure how I feel about it. I just know that the whole thing was so wrong on so many levels that I can’t believe I’m even talking to you.”
Jake nodded. “I know. The fantasy seemed exciting, erotic, even. What sounded like some harmless fun for some rich men has ended up hurting someone I’ve come to really care about.”
Amy looked up at him, tears in her eyes. She couldn’t speak.
He moved to the door. “I know every time you see my face, it will remind you of your ordeal. I won’t bother you again.”
Without another word, Jake walked away, closing the door softly behind him.
He left Amy standing there, confused, her anger dissipating like San Francisco fog on a hot day.
Jake morosely trudged down the stairs to his car. His mind reeled with conflicting emotions. If he hadn’t pushed for the hunt or if their prey had been another woman, he never would have met Amy. Now that he’d met her, it was all ruined because he’d been an arrogant rich man who thought he deserved whatever money could buy.
He reached the lobby and paused to take a breath before leaving forever.
“Hey!”
He turned, his heart racing. Amy was standing on the landing, her dress loosely tossed over her athletic body.
“I hope you don’t think I’m going to let you get out of keeping your end of the deal!”
“Wha? What do you mean?”
“You owe me a dinner out. And I’m choosing the most expensive restaurant in San Francisco!”
Jake’s jaw dropped open. Then he smiled.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“This doesn’t mean I’m ready to forgive you,” Amy said as she ate her lobster at Fleur de Lys, a very expensive French restaurant she had long coveted, but never could afford before.
“Of course not,” Jake said. “You were treated shabbily and no doubt you’re feeling abused by the experience. I suggest you demand some serious pampering to make up for it.”
She let a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. “Yeah, maybe a bottle of champagne…”
“…a day at a spa…”
“…French perfume…”
“…a pony ride…”
She looked up. “ ‘A pony ride?’ “
They both erupted into laughter.
“Well, I was pretty mad, I admit,” she said. “I think I was mad at myself for agreeing to the second hunt. Up until then, I had you guys locked up for the rest of your lives—I mean, if the cops could’ve tracked you down. But when I signed that contract and agreed to take the money for the next hunt, I became a whore and I didn’t like it.”
“Please don’t say that. To me, you will never be anything less than what you are: An accomplished, professional, beautiful woman who made the best of a bad situation—a situation that I helped cause.”
She took another sip of wine. “To tell you the truth, there was another reason I stayed—a reason I don’t think I was consciously aware of. Out there, suddenly all of society’s rules were turned upside down. I could be ravished—unless I got away. That made the whole experience somehow primal. I think that’s the reason I reacted the way I did with you.”
Jake raised his glass. “Well, you can take your primal emotions out on me anytime.”
Amy gave hi
m a small smile over the rim of her glass.
After dinner, which Amy could tell was very expensive, Jake gently touched her shoulder as they left the restaurant and waited for the valet to bring around his black BMW. She could feel the heat of his palm.
She reached up and put her hand over his. “Thanks,” she said in a throaty voice.
“You’re welcome. I enjoyed it.”
The valet roared up in the shiny car. Jake tipped him, then held the door for her. When he came around and settled into his seat, she spoke up.
“Tell me the truth about something, okay?”
“Sure, anything.” He pulled away from the curb.
“I know you said you had an image of how the hunt would be, and the reality was a lot harder to take. But,” she paused, as if trying to find the right words. “Did it turn you on, chasing me down like that?”
“Oh, yes, I have to admit, it did. You were right—there was something primal about it.”
“Running around naked might’ve added to that feeling,” she laughed.
Jake slowed the car.
“What? What is it?”
“I was heading to your apartment, to take you home. But I was thinking…”
“Yeah?”
“I have a big ol’ place in Marin County. The maid has the day off, so I’m there all alone…”
Amy cocked her head and watched Jake’s face in profile. “And?” She wasn’t going to make it easy for him.
“Umm. I was wondering if you’d like to play, uh, hide and seek with me?”
Her cheeks dimpled. “ ‘Hide and seek?’ “
“It’s a tamer version of the hunt, you see.”
“I see. I suppose you’d want to do this naked?”
“Only if you’re brave enough, of course.”
She smiled that sexy, dimpled smile again and Jake turned the car toward his home. Little was said—both their minds were elsewhere.
Amy was impressed with the house and grounds as he rolled through the electronic fence onto his five-acre estate. He parked out front and escorted Amy inside. They stood, awkwardly for a moment, unsure how to proceed.
“Maybe you could give me a quick tour, so I know where all the good hiding places are.”
“Sure,” he said. He took her through the house, standing close to her as he showed her various rooms. The smell of her hair, her perfume, intoxicated him. She seemed particularly interested in the master bedroom, upstairs.
“Wow, look at the size of that bed!”
“California King. I like a lot of space.”
“You could lose someone in there.”
Jake felt if they didn’t leave, they might never. “Come on, let’s go back downstairs and get started.” He walked out awkwardly, his erection pressing against his trousers.
“What are the stakes?” Amy asked when they reached the ground floor again.
“Stakes? Umm. I don’t know.” He blushed a bit. “I mean, you know what I want if I find you,” she murmured.
Amy glanced at his tented pants and remembered their intense fuck during the hunt. Fuck was the right word for it. “Making love” was far too tame a word for what they did. She felt the heat in her loins return. “So—what? If I win, we still fuck?”
Her bold statement only made Jake harder. “Well, if that’s what you want as well, it doesn’t seem to matter who wins, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t.” She began unzipping her dress. Jake quickly followed suit, shrugging off his sport coat and unbuttoning his shirt. “How much of a lead are you going to give me?”
“How much time do you need?”
Amy looked over the house, mentally counting the rooms. “Oh, I think thirty seconds ought to be plenty.”
Jake grinned. In seconds, they were both naked. Amy gazed at his erection unabashedly. “I guess that wasn’t a banana in your pocket, huh?”
He drank in her lithe naked form: the soft curve of her hips, the pert breasts, the blond hair framing her pretty face. With effort, he turned his back. “I’m counting to thirty now.” He couldn’t wait another minute to have her. “One, two, three…”
He heard her bare feet padding away down the hall.
When he reached thirty, he turned. Instinctively, he knew where she was hiding. He jogged up the stairs directly to the master bedroom. There, he spotted a small lump under the covers. He jumped on her. “Gotcha!”
She giggled.
Jake slipped in next to her. “This has got to be the worst hiding place ever.” Her skin was hot. His hands slipped over her breasts to her stomach. He imagined he could feel her blood rushing through her body, her desire for him finally acceptable. He kissed her hard, pressing his erection against her thigh.
She enveloped him, spreading her legs. “Maybe I’ll do better next time.”
He cupped his hand over her breast, flicking the rock-hard nipple gently. The tip of his cock touched her wet cunt. “We’ll have to raise the stakes,” he breathed, kissing her again.
“Shut up and fuck me,” she responded and Jake obliged, thrusting his cock deep into her. She gasped and clung tightly to him, shaking with emotion.
They moved together as one. Amy’s cunt was hot and wet—it sucked at him. Jake had never felt such heat, such passion from a woman before. There’s something to be said about the hunt, he thought, if it results in sex like this.
His strokes drove Amy mad. She heard noises and realized it was her own voice, making inarticulate sounds in her throat. She could see herself outside her body, looking down on Jake’s strong back as he thrust harder and harder into her, his buttocks clenching and contracting. Her legs encircled his back. Her mouth was open, eyes staring.
“Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god…” Her orgasm built to a crescendo. Just as she shuddered with an orgasm hitting 8.0 on the Richter scale, Jake came hard within her. She could feel his sperm flooding her womb. Her head exploded—or so it felt. For a moment, she wasn’t totally conscious. The room swirled around her.
God, sex with this man was good!
After a few moments, Jake slumped to the side, spent. “If we keep this up,” she gasped, “I’m going to get pregnant for sure.”
“Yes, you’re right.” He rolled to the side and leaned on one elbow. “There’s just something about fucking you that makes contraceptives inconsequential.”
“Something primal, no doubt.”
“Yes. But I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”
She sat up. “What do you mean? We should be worried!”
“Nah,” he said dismissively. “I figure we’re going to want to have three kids anyway…”
She stared at him. “Th-three kids? You and me? Together? We-we don’t even really know each other. It’s all just sex so far.”
“No it’s not. And I think you know it. I want you, Amy. I want to share my life with you. Will you marry me?”
“Wow,” she breathed out. “You really know how to raise the stakes.”
“Well?”
She thought for a moment, then gave him a sly smile. “Let’s decide this on the battlefield. One more hunt, a real one—tomorrow. If you win, I’ll marry you…”
“And if you win?” he murmured.
She grinned. “We just fuck until I get pregnant and then you have to marry me.”
Jake laughed and took her into his arms.
About the Author
J.W. McKenna is a former journalist who took up penning erotic romance stories after years of trying to ignore an overly dramatic—and often overheated—imagination. McKenna is married and lives in the Midwest, where polite people would be shocked if they knew what kind of writing was being done in their town.
The author welcomes comments from readers. You can find his website and email address on his author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by J.W. McKenna
Delicious Blackmail
Lord of Avalon
My Pet
Naughty Girl
Private Daydreams
Slave Planet
The Cameo
Wanted: Kept Woman
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