Love of the Hunted

Non Nude

Tarrocan’s shirt clung to him, damp with sweat. He leaned back against the tree, breathing in ragged gasps, gazing in the direction from which he had come. Kayenna placed a hand against the bark to steady herself. She felt light-headed with exertion, and there was a tight pain in her chest from sucking in lungfuls of air. They had been running for over an hour, stumbling, tearing through branches, mistaking their own heartbeats for the footfalls of their enemies drawing nearer.

“Do. You. Think we lost them?” gasped Tarrocan , in between breaths.

“I don’t know,” Kayenna answered. Her head swam and she sank to her knees. Her soft chestnut hair fell forward, but she was too exhausted to brush it out of her eyes. For a time they heard only their own labored breathing and the blood surging in their ears. Gradually, their heartbeats and breathing slowed, and the forest was quiet but for birdsong high above. She looked around.

They were in a clearing, fresh with the scent of new grass and a cluster of blue tear-shaped flowers. The scene was incongruously peaceful after the panic and urgency of their flight, and the constant strain of the preceding weeks during which they had planned their escape from the slave-holding.

“I think we lost them at the river,” Kayenna said at length, when the world had stopped spinning and the peacefulness had begun to seep into her.

“They didn’t expect us to make it across,” Tarrocan agreed. “They’re probably still searching on the opposite bank.” His voice was still strained, and she glanced up at him, concerned. He started to move away from the trunk and winced, his hand going to his shoulder.

“You’re hurt!” she cried, leaping up to help him. He pulled away with a grimace and turned his face from her.

“How long have you been running like that?” she demanded. Now that she was looking she could see a wet patch on his black shirt that had nothing to do with sweat. How could she have failed to notice earlier? She touched his arm gently. He kept his face averted.

“Since the escape, it must be,” she answered her own question, sympathy etched on her features. “During the melee, when the weapons were flying.” He didn’t answer, which was answer enough.

“Sit,” she urged. “Let me look.”

Carefully, he lowered himself to the ground. “It’s not bad,” he assured her. A hint of skepticism crossed her face, and she began lifting his shirt, revealing the taut muscles of his abdomen. Gingerly he peeled off the shirt, shutting his eyes at the pain as he pulled it over his right shoulder.

There was a jagged wound just below the collar bone, and the area around it was sticky with blood. Kayenna pushed gently at the Trabzon Escort center of his chest, urging him to lie back. After a moment’s resistance, he complied. His dark eyes met hers.

“That needs to be cleaned, and stitched,” Kayenna murmured. “Lucky for you we have a needle and thread in the supply pack.” Tarrocan’s eyebrows rose as she pulled off her own shirt, revealing her slim torso and small round breasts. Her nipples hardened in the cool breeze. She shook her hair over her shoulders and reached for their canteen of water. Comprehension dawned on Tarrocan as she poured some water onto her bundled shirt and began gently to wipe away the blood.

She used most of the canteen cleaning his wound. Before she was finished it began to seep blood again, and she pressed the cloth against the wound while he gritted his teeth until the bleeding stopped. Finally, she set the cloth aside and turned away. He admired the shape of her bare back as she rummaged through their supplies.

She withdrew the sewing kit, and a look of fear passed his face before he schooled his features to blankness. She turned back to him and tenderly drew her fingers along the unhurt side of his chest. Goosebumps rose where her fingers brushed, and his lips parted as he watched her.

“This is going to hurt,” she warned him, voice anxious. He nodded, his face carefully blank. Slowly she threaded a needle and bent over him. He tensed. She frowned, looking for a better angle, and slid her leg over his body until she was perched on top of him. His eyes widened slightly. She bent forward again and placed the tip of the needle against his skin.

He let out a tiny gasp when the needle pierced him, and she felt him tense under her. He shut his eyes as she pulled the thread through. At the second stitch, he clenched his jaw but made no sound. He was silent for the third stitch, and the fourth. A drop of moisture formed at the corners of his tight-shut eyes as she continued with her work. She could feel his quick heartbeat between her legs. Finally, she reached the last stitch and tied it off. He let out his breath as he relaxed.

“All done,” she said softly. She didn’t move to get off of him. She was looking at his face, handsome and angular, tense with pain. He opened his eyes, saw her staring, and didn’t break the gaze. She stroked him again from his left shoulder down to his hip, and let her fingers slide under his pants before lifting her hand. She felt his arousal rise and press against her. She smiled as he blushed, their eyes still locked. Her pupils were dilated, her eyes hungry.

With agonizing slowness, she pressed her hand against his chest and rubbed down until she Trabzon Escort Bayan encountered the waistband of his pants.

“May I?” she whispered, fingering the button. He nodded. His lips were parted, his face flushed, his breath coming shallow and quick. He had lusted after her since the day he saw her, but he hadn’t known she shared his feelings.

She bent to kiss his chest as she undid the button one-handed. Her other hand slid up and down his naked torso, stroking, exploring. He raised his left hand to her skin, brushed upward, and ran his finger along the curve at the base of her breast. Her nipples brushed his skin as she trailed kisses along his pectoral muscles. When she raised herself again, he let his hand slide up until he was cupping her breast, her firm nipple pressing into his palm. He massaged her, and she arched her back to press herself further into his touch.

Tarrocan could feel his arousal pulsing and straining, aching for the touch of her flesh. He shuddered as Kayenna’s fingers probed beneath his open zipper, playing with the soft hair. His hips gave a little involuntary twitch as Kayenna slid her hand closer, almost touching. To his disappointment she moved her hand away, then hooked her finger in the top of his pants. He raised his hips to aid her as she slid the pants down. She trailed her fingers down his legs as she undressed him, head bent to let her hair brush over his twitching penis. And then he was lying on the grass naked and open to the warm sunlight.

She stood. She raised her arms slowly, caressing herself, inviting him to admire her. Tarrocan smiled, taking in her soft curves, her pale shining skin and luminous eyes, chestnut hair falling in soft tendrils around her shoulders. His hand began to creep down toward his engorged flesh.

“Wait,” she whispered. Slowly, gracefully, she slid her own pants over the gentle curve of her hips and down her long legs. Tarrocan’s eyes lingered at the base of her dark-haired delta, where the light caught a glistening drop of moisture.

She gazed down at him, slim and muscular and stretched naked before her, and felt herself swell and pulse with desire. His rigid penis was dark with engorgement, and as she watched a drop of moisture fell from the tip in a long shining strand. His testes looked tight and hot and swollen, and she longed to touch them, to feel their firm weight in her hand and against her slickened vulva.

She knelt between his thighs and trailed kisses up his legs, massaging the outside of his hips. He threw back his head and arched and his dripping penis stabbed at the air. She brushed her lips against the tight skin of his testes, smelling his rich Escort Trabzon masculine scent, and drew her hands inward, sending sensation toward his throbbing center. Her tongue drew a line of moisture from the base of his scrotum, up the seam and along the underside of his penis. She licked under the ridge in broad firm strokes as she cupped and massaged his balls, then in one smooth motion, slid his shaft deep into her mouth. He gasped at the sudden pleasure.

She slid his shaft out, creating tight suction with her lips, until the ridge popped out, sending waves of pleasure through him. Without pausing, she lowered her head again until the dome of his penis pressed against her throat. As she pulled back up she twined her legs around his thigh and began grinding against him, pressing and stimulating her throbbing clit, her wet vulva sliding against him. Each long stroke of her mouth sent ecstasy washing through him, until he felt his testes tighten against his body, preparing to release. The ridge of his penis popped out of her tight lips, and he jerked and moaned, needing only one more stroke. But she didn’t lower her mouth onto him. Instead, she pulled herself away, her juices clinging to him as she raised her body and straddled him.

“I need to feel you inside of me,” she whispered, her words melting into each other, husky with need. “I need to feel you stretching me, filling me.” He placed his hands on the sides of her hips, guiding her as she raised her pelvis to hover over him. She panted hungrily, poised with his member barely parting her nether lips. With a cry of ecstasy, she sank down onto him in a sudden, urgent thrust.

Her pussy was wet and hot and tight. Every heartbeat made him feel as though his dick would explode with pleasure. And then she began to ride him, thrusting, rocking, pounding deep and hard. She could feel him pressing into her most private places, probing, filling, stretching, urging her to heights of sensation she had never dreamed of. She felt so alive, her body tingled, her nipples ached, her vulva burned and her clit felt like it was on fire. She rode waves of pleasure that climbed and built on each other, and felt them begin to break in a crashing climax.

Tarrocan thrust deeper into her than ever before, and the ecstasy boiled over and shot out of him fast and thick and hot. Together they climaxed, quivering, straining and crying out at the thunderous joy that flooded their bodies and their minds.

After a moment of eternity, the waves subsided and she collapsed against him, spent. He laughed softly and put his arms around her, stroked her hair and breathed in deeply, enjoying her soft female scent. He felt her heartbeat slow and her breathing grow steady, and he sensed she was asleep. Smiling, he closed his eyes and listened to the birdsong. He could feel the sun’s warmth on his closed eyelids. Every muscle in his body felt warm and relaxed. A soft breeze rustled the leaves, and he slid into sleep.

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