Hunted for the Holidays

Chapter 10

10

SLOW DOWN BY CHASE ATLANTIC

C upping my hands around the warm enamel mug, I bring the freshly brewed coffee to my lips and lean back against Derek's hard form. This isn't exactly what I had in mind when I pictured snuggling up with a warm drink and a pretty winter view this Christmas. We’re cuddled up on a comfy bench on the front porch, watching the tranquil forest surrounding us. It's surprisingly peaceful here, with my captor.

I shift around in his lap, my muscles aching with each movement. My body is so deliciously sore. Last night was the first time they touched me that it wasn't a punishment. There was still pain and force, but it wasn't used as a weapon; it was used to drive the pleasure we all felt. And I liked it. I really liked it.

I should hit him over the head with the mug and run. I know that–and yet, my urge to run from them is starting to fade. With each orgasm they pull from me, each tender moment we share, each possessive and fucked up exchange that happens between the three of us, my urge to flee fades. I’m starting to fall for my monsters. And that might be the most terrifying part of all of this.

Derek's large hand clamps down on my thigh, giving it a squeeze as his warm breath tickles the shell of my ear. "Keep moving like that and I'll fuck your right here, little bunny."

His words make my core tighten, memories of last night flooding into my mind. God, when Derek had multiple fingers inside me, stretching me wide while Wyatt rubbed my clit, I swear the world fucking tilted on its axis. I've never felt anything like that before–I didn't even know it was possible to feel such bliss. When it came to sex, I expected it would consist of me spread wide on some rich asshole's bed while his sweaty and hairy form pumped his tiny dick into me for sixty seconds. Never did I imagine it could involve a set of hot, muscular brothers using me in any way they wanted while calling me their whore.

That word shouldn't excite me the way it does.

I can’t wait for more.

The wind kicks up, the cold breeze brushing over my flushed skin as fresh white flakes start to fall.

"Storm's moving in," Wyatt says, bringing the ax down on another log.

"Will we be okay out here?" I ask, my eyes flicking back and forth between my two men as I set my mug down.

"We'll be fine." Derek's hand glides up my thigh, cupping my pussy through my leggings. "My little brother here is quite the fucking boy scout, aren't you?"

"Could get more done if you'd fucking help," Wyatt grits out, back muscles rippling under his tight long-sleeved shirt as he hauls another chunk of wood up to cut. The thought of those muscles holding me, caging me in, moving on top of me, makes my pussy tingle in anticipation.

"Hop up," Derek murmurs, tapping my ass. Reluctantly, I slide off his lap as he pushes to his feet and saunters over to Wyatt. "Chill out," he smirks, grabbing his crotch. "I've got plenty of wood to keep you warm." His hazel eyes flicker over to me as he adds, "both of you."

Wyatt grumbles something under his breath as he bends down, gathering an armful of wood and stalking off around back. I don't miss the growing bulge at the front of his jeans, Derek's words affecting him in more ways than just annoyance. And fuck if that doesn’t make me even more desperate for them. I want to watch them together. The thought is filthy in the best possible way.

Chuckling to himself, Derek tips his chin at me. "C'mon, little bunny, let's go see if we can help him along."

I step down from the porch, following Derek around the side of the cabin to where Wyatt is stacking all the split wood in a small shed. The snow starts to come down heavier, flakes getting bigger and building up on the ground around us. A gust of wind rushes past us in a whistle, rustling the giant pines that surround the cabin. I shiver beneath the warmth of Wyatt’s sweatshirt that I’ve stolen and claimed as my own. The thought of staying here snowed in with my captors warms me in a way it definitely shouldn’t.

Wyatt's head swivels around and he glances up at the sky. "Storm will be here in no time. Need to gather some more firewood. If we lose power, we'll need it for the stove, too."

"Charlie and I can grab some more," Derek volunteers.

"Yeah," I shiver. "Anything to get us back inside sooner."

With a nod, Wyatt hands him a piece of canvas with handles. Derek takes it and slings the other arm over my shoulders, tucking me into his side. Our boots crunch with each step as we walk deeper into the thicket of trees, stopping to pick up large sticks as we go.

"Look, Derek!" I shout, pointing to a small evergreen and rushing towards it. "Wouldn't that make the perfect little Christmas tree?"

"You want a tree, little bunny?"

"It's Christmas Eve, and if we’re gonna be stuck inside for god knows how long, shouldn't we at least have a tree?" I plead my case.

"I don't think Christmas decorations were at the top of Wyatt's supply list when he was stocking the cabin," he muses.

I feel my smile falter in the slightest. I didn't even think about that . My shoulders sag as the little bubble of excitement that was starting to form bursts. This isn't the lodge or even my holiday getaway anymore. I'm in a cabin with the men who murdered my fiance and took me captive. But, they also saved me...

I'm sure they could’ve easily gotten in on the reward from my father. He’d pay anything to get me back in his possession. He would have been raging the moment he found out I'd been defiled, though. I shudder at the thought of what he'd do to me then.

"Okay," I sigh, walking back towards him.

He doesn't say anything further as I pause to pick up a fallen branch. His gloved hand strokes his chin, face impassive as he studies me.

"Would a tree really make you that happy, Charlie?"

I shrug a shoulder. "I just thought it could be nice. Christmas was supposed to be my wedding day. I thought it would be fun to have our own celebration, something of my choosing, just for once in my life.”

"Well, fuck. I guess we can take it." Hooking a thumb over his shoulder, he says, "You stay right there, and I'll go drop the wood off to Wyatt and grab an ax."

"Thank you!" I sing-song, eyeing the tree again. It really is the perfect little Christmas tree.

"You can make it up to me later by giving me my present underneath it," he smirks, turning to head toward the cabin.

My cheeks heat with a blush. I want Derek to fuck me–like for real fuck me . The tempting and teasing play has been enlightening, and now I’m eager to delve deeper. Before, my virginity was never mine to give, but now it is, and as far as I'm concerned, it's Derek and Wyatt's for the taking. I want them both. I want everything they’re willing to give and am prepared to hand over everything they want to take.

We may not have any ornaments, but I still think the tree will look pretty in the corner by the fireplace. If I'm going to be stuck in the middle of nowhere for the holidays, I can at least have a touch of the holiday spirit, right?

I'm sure if I was with Kit, today would have been a lot more extravagant and the lodge would be decked all the way out. Right about now, I’d probably be in the midst of being shuffled between groups of wealthy socialites, shown off like a prize mare ready to be bred. After crossing paths with that search group, I've been wondering just how long my dad has had this bounty on me. Was he hoping to save his deposits and go through with my Christmas wedding, trading out one asshole groom for another? The thought of being shipped back home only to suffer at the hands of some rich fucker makes staying with Wyatt and Derek all the easier. At least with them, I get to feel special. To them, I’m not just worth the price someone’s willing to pay for me.

A branch snaps behind me and I whip my head around excitedly, expecting to see Derek. But instead of his hazel eyes, I lock onto a pair of icy blue ones.

"Charlotte? Charlotte Carrington?" the man calls out, stepping closer.

"Wh-who are you?" I stutter, edging back.

"I'm a friend of your Dad’s. He's been trying to reach you and Kit. You’re supposed to be married tomorrow. Everyone is waiting for you.”

I don't remember his face from the group I saw yesterday, but what are the chances he isn't part of it? His words chill me more than the icy air. My dad isn’t worried about me, he’s worried about saving face. He’s worried about the event, the guests, the deal. Without me, he can’t get his precious payday.

"I'll bring you to my vehicle,” the man starts, darting his eyes around. “There’s a storm coming in and we need to get going."

Rolling my lip between my teeth, I consider my options. This is it–this very well could be my only chance to escape from Derek and Wyatt. But do I really want that anymore?

"I can't. I should get back to Kit," I lie, hoping they haven't discovered his body. “Kit!” I shout as I sidestep.

"Oh, he's already down at the rendezvous location," the man says, coming closer to me. "We found him first and he said you'd wandered away."

They don't know Kit is dead.

"Why didn't he come for me, then?" I question.

His jaw tightens, lips pressing together in a thin line. He’s clearly getting frustrated at my unwillingness to go with him.

"Listen Charlotte," he grits out, closing the distance between us. "We need to get going, if you will just-"

"No!" I interrupt as he reaches out to grab me.

I scramble backward, but my heel catches on something, sending me straight to the ground.

Reaching down, he roughly grabs my wrist and yanks me to my feet. “I don’t have time for your fucking attitude, you little brat."

“No!” I scream, “I’m not going anywhere with you!”

“Let’s go,” he spits, jerking my arm harder to pull me along with him. My shoulder burns as he drags me behind him.

I go slack his grip, throwing my body to the ground and catching him off-balance in the process. He lands on top of me, the weight of his body punching the wind from my lungs. I gasp for air as he rolls off, and the moment fresh oxygen hits my system, I hurry to stand, the forest spinning around me as I find my feet. I stumble, bracing my palms against the nearest tree trunk.

“Stop being a stubborn bitch,” he growls, fingers digging into my bicep.

"Hands off our fucking girl,” the deep timbre of Derek’s voice rumbles, rattling all the way down to my bones.