Hunted For the Holidays Read online

  Table of Contents

  www.amberabardan.com

  The Hunt

  The Prize

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Dirty Daddy

  Read more by Amber Bardan

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Hunted For The Holidays

  Includes Caught For The Holidays

  By Amber Bardan

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  HUNTED FOR THE HOLIDAYS

  Copyright © 2016 by Amber Bardan

  HUNTED FOR THE HOLIDAYS is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed are fictional or used fictitiously. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  www.amberabardan.com

  Cover Design: Romance Books

  The Hunt

  The Prize

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Dirty Daddy

  Read more by Amber Bardan

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  HUNTED FOR THE HOLIDAYS

  It should have been an innocent vacation with my family. But wild and dangerous things lurk in this forest.

  A wild and dangerous man.

  Stalking me.

  Hunting me.

  Terrifying me—because all I want these Holidays is to be caught.

  Warning: This short romance is pure guilty pleasure. These holidays, get caught up with a completely obsessed hero who will stop at nothing to claim the love of his life. This book contains elements which may be triggers for some. Happy Ever After. No cliffhanger.

  The Hunt

  Fear.

  Fear more vicious on my flesh than the bite of December air, clawing down my spine and sinking into my thighs to scream—Run.

  “Run, run, little doe.”

  The command penetrates deep through the center of my belly and spreads. Yet, I grip the bark of the tree for dear life, nails scraping on wood fiber.

  Not wanting to make a sound.

  Not wanting to be caught.

  My skin isn’t even my skin anymore. I’ve been transformed by the ruthless panic. I’m puckered and raised, hairs on end.

  I’m rough and brittle. It’s not the bitter cold that has my teeth shattering, or my hearing blurred by the rush of pulse.

  It’s the hunt.

  The woods hum around me, singing its usual song. Birds chirp, and the wind groans. The woods don’t care—this is its usual dance. The wild has no sympathy for me.

  Creak.

  The sound shatters through me like a bullet. A taste in my mouth, copper as blood. Cruel as the circle of life and heady as a drug. Pumping me full of chemicals.

  I explode across the forest floor. Scents of earth and the spice of pine stir around me.

  Run, run, run.

  I leap over a log. My knees hit the ground. Skin grazes, stings, breaks, but the panic fills me and I can’t slow.

  I regain footing, darting between trees.

  Nature swallows me whole.

  Branches lash my arms and chest, pain peaking and waning with every heedless leap. The crushing musk of dirt and fight stalks me. Cold snaps my surface.

  The thump of my heart contracts my body.

  Breath sets my lungs on fire. My chest burns. My thighs wail.

  I stumble and hit the ground, sinking into a cushion of leaves. Wariness beckons me to lay my head and stay a moment.

  Rest.

  I blink and gasp. Roll onto my back and glance around. Trees surround me. Bushes. Ferns. Nothing sinister. But the birds…

  They’ve gone silent.

  I scramble backwards on heels and searing elbows. My panting swirls around me. The forest floor is stirred up from my struggles. Even the most armature hunter could track my path.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  My heart beats louder than my gasps. “Run, run, little doe.” But would a doe notice the disturbance she’s made fleeing?

  Would she smell the hunter coming?

  Like I do now.

  My gaze darts from point to point. Every branch seems sharp toothed. Every leaf a long fang. Every fern, ruffled, slinking fur.

  I sniff the air. It’s there—earth, and thunder. That’s what he smells like…

  He’s fast. His wolf senses sharper than mine.

  I drag myself to the underbrush and curl inside. Deep and safe as I can get. I huddle, wrapping arms around my knees. Torn denim reveals the dirty grazed skin on my knees, and the unmistakable iron waft of fresh blood.

  Shivers roll through me. I bite my teeth together to stop the shatter.

  Now the cold sinks needlelike into my tingling extremities.

  Snap.

  My chin notches, and my neck fuses stiff. The cold is the least of my concerns. Frostbite is a meager threat to the one coming for me.

  Creak.

  My eyes strain wide but all I see is the soft gentle sway of brush. The rustle closes in. Panic fills my mouth like a spoonful of slick fat—I can’t swallow.

  Can’t swallow it down.

  Yet, it pours down my throat and fills my lungs solid.

  The movement passes by.

  Air rushes from my chest in a heave.

  I roll forward onto hands and knees. Pine breaks under my palms, the sharp scent clean and crisp and filthy at once.

  I crawl low, and will myself little.

  Little as the smallest creature in the forest…unseen.

  My head emerges from the foliage, and my gaze darts around.

  I pull my aching body free.

  The sound catches me still on hands and knees. A low vibration that seizes my muscles—snarl.

  Adrenaline lashes me like the crack of a whip.

  I leap forward, up and on my feet again. And run. I dart between trees.

  Footsteps pound behind me.

  Fear bursts brightly through my veins in a flood of speed. I rush faster. The pounding pursues me.

  Closer.

  My arms pump, knees rising. I thrum from forehead to feet. The forest blurs to a buzz.

  Pain snaps through the back of my skull.

  A grip in my hair wrenches through me.

  My spine twists and contorts.

  I’m jerked off my feet. My lungs flood. A scream bursts from my open mouth, splintering the forest. Shattering me with the force it departs my body.

  The searing tension in my scalp tugs, tossing me to the floor.

  I hit the ground on my side, and roll onto my back.

  Fluttering wings flitter through my vision.

  My chest heaves.

  Where were those bird’s moments ago to warn me?

  The looming frame comes into focus, and the next scream dies on my lips.

  I know…They never saw a predator like this coming.

  He slinks closer.

  No warning could’ve saved me. He’d catch me no matter what. There’s no hiding place from him.

  His gaze seizes mine. Hunger is a pulsing, blood-hot need set deep in hazel eyes.

  He’s an animal.

  A complete animal for me…

  I scuttle back. The heels of my boots plough tracks in moss.

  Now I’m down he comes for me in slow excruciating increments. Every even exacting step, flexes his power.

  I hold up dirty palms.

  He tilts his head as if taking in my stop sign hands—and hi
s next move is a violent streak toward me.

  He grabs my ankle.

  A shriek leaves me. I twist, and my boot departs my foot. Then my sock. The icy air on my toes is blade sharp.

  “No!” I lunge upright and throw my shoulder against him.

  He’s thrown from his crouch, but in an instant thick arms surround me, locking me in. My heart bursts against the inside of my ribs.

  I shriek again. My knees grind in dirt but I can’t gain traction to resist. He takes me down.

  Hands grab me in a frenzy, tearing at fabric, breaking through cloth.

  I strike with balled fists. Pain shudders through my joints as though hitting at rock.

  My skin exposes to frigid air. The button pops off my jeans. I scream, flailing and bucking with my whole body. My knee lands between thick thighs.

  He explodes with a roar.

  The sound resonates to my middle. He seizes my wrists—then they’re above my head. I buck. He’s so strong, he holds me one handed, then my jeans are gone.

  He covers me.

  I shake my head from side to side.

  Terrible energy fills me. Tingling my extremities. Flooding me with rushing brightness.

  Every emotion I’ve ever possessed, every repressed sensation, and every unwanted desire, streams through me.

  I meet his gaze.

  My fingers curl. My teeth set.

  I hiss, long and loud and sizzling. The sound vibrates between us—a humming cord of tension no knife could sever.

  His snarling mouth and narrowed eyes mirror my rage.

  My spine arches.

  He reaches down and sets himself free, then hauls my thigh wide. The scent of my own desire hits me in a white-hot wave. He drives into me, cock gliding clean through my wetness in a branding claim.

  I scream, then the impact freezes the air in my chest. The flesh inside me stings, burns, and almost breaks around his girth.

  Then gives way.

  I breathe again and howl. I lunge with everything I have left, and sink my teeth through fabric at his shoulder and into skin. A deeper howl joins mine.

  His grip loosens and I wrench my wrists free.

  He fucks me even as my fists strike him. His cock drives deep, filling me core to surface to soul. Energy expands through my cells swamping me in need.

  I claw at his chest. His shirt rips. Bright red splotches bloom on the tatters.

  His cock squelches through my lust.

  Pleasure joins the volcanic mix of sensation.

  I writhe and wrap my legs around his hips. I buck—attacking him even with my cunt. I want to murder him with my body. I want to eat him. Tear into him with my teeth. Breathe him in and swallow him whole. Mark my territory with tooth, nail, scent, blood, and sex. He’s the baddest beast in this forest, the most terrifying creature of my imaginings, and he’s mine.

  Everything inside me and out, gets louder.

  I can’t keep myself in. I can’t keep everything in my body and can’t let it out.

  He grabs my throat with one hand, and seizes my wrist again—trapping me at the very moment I need to explode. Monster. I shiver and shake and shudder, pinned at wrist and by my own windpipe. My breath in his hand. All there is to do, is take.

  He plunges in, and in, and in, and in.

  I take, and take, and take.

  My head gets bright. Adrenaline is a fast, hot pressure filling my skin brim.

  There’s no air.

  I burst. Bliss twists me inside out. I convulse. The pressure departs my throat. Oxygen pours into me, and every other feeling flows out. There’s a groan somewhere almost in the distance. Liquid streams on my thighs. But I’m a shuddering mass of pleasure, and all I can do is inhale.

  The Prize

  Weight settles over me.

  “Libby.” He moans against my forehead.

  I come back to myself sobbing, and it’s almost joyful.

  His hands drive into my hair. He rolls us on the forest floor, holding me close.

  I run my fingers through his tattered shirt and my eyes stream. “Matty.”

  He strokes my hair, while I soak him with tears. “Baby, it’s getting cold.”

  I sniff. There’s no “getting” about it—it’s freaking freezing. But I resent missing a second of this.

  Crying—I’m not one for it, but it’s essential medicine.

  My incredible husband, with his violent antidotes. I rub my face on him. He loves me so deeply, that he hurts me just right.

  Exactly how I need.

  He kept every deep dark fantasy I wrote him when we were apart. When I was desperate and aching for my soldier.

  When the only thing I could think of to keep the connection alive across such distance, and time, was the brutal honesty of my desires.

  “Wait,” he growls, and rises.

  I shake my head and sigh. Bossy boy. He fastens his pants and jogs to a bush. He says my stories kept him alive.

  Now he rewards me by bringing them to life.

  He returns with a bag of our things. We change back into the clothes we left in.

  “How do I look?” I draw my lower lip between my teeth then let it pop out and watch his gaze fly to my mouth. “Like debauchery?”

  “You look like sunshine.” He chuckles and runs a hand through his rich dark hair before plucking a twig from mine. “My filthy, innocent hussy, everyone will assume you were off chasing bunnies.”

  I place my hand over the one at my temple, and breathe in.

  His smile slips. “Only I receive your wickedness.”

  My chest gets tight. I close my eyes for a moment, and turn my cheek into his hand. “Only you do.”

  There isn’t a time in my life I can remember not knowing him. There’s not a time I recall not loving him. He staked his claim in preschool. We’ve been inseparable even through the most excruciating separations.

  My breasts tingle. “Uh, oh. We’d better get back, it’s feed time.”

  His gaze shuffles to my chest, and he sighs. My breastfeeding status is the only thing that saved me from being the one getting my chest bitten and savaged, in this role-play.

  What a pity.

  We’ll have to try again in six months or so.

  He takes my hand, and leads me to the track and we jog back to the vacation cabin. We take our coats off at the door.

  The soft meow of a cry wafts down the stairs.

  “Just in time.” My dad glances down from the cabin balcony. “She’s getting feisty, like her Mommy.”

  I laugh, and shake my head. It’s a blessing our families could make it away with us for the holidays. They were so protective of Ollie and I in the first year when Matty was away, and now he is home, they miss being there for us.

  And boy, are Mathew and I grateful for these stolen moments of privacy.

  I rush up the stairs.

  “Daddy!”

  I step to the side, as Ollie charges past me to his Dad. I take our daughter, and glance over my shoulder to see Mathew scoop up the sturdy toddler, and sigh.

  Then kiss the top of Stephanie’s head and take her to be fed.

  I hear the sound of his inhalation before his footsteps. Mathew lounges at the bedroom door. He looks at me the same way he always does when he sees me breastfeeding. With a heartwarming mixture of tenderness and possessiveness. His face full of the pride at seeing his child feed from me, and the jealousy of his gaze moving to a part of me he always considered his.

  “She’s all done.” I lower Steph, who’s already nodding off, and give her back a rub. She releases a belch.

  “I’ll take her.” Mathew rushes closer.

  I hold her out, and smile. Will that ever end? The way he rushes toward us with a shred of desperation, as though there’s always a part of him that believes he’ll have to leave us again.

  I kind of hope it never changes. Because I’ll never stop feeling that exact same way. I never won’t appreciate the treasure of every moment we have.

  He tak
es her from my hands and sniffs her gently, before taking her to the children’s room. I change into my nightgown, and take the silver envelope hidden in my travel bag, and lounge on the bed.

  He returns and shuts the door. His steps falter. I suppress the satisfaction of my smile. His gaze ripples over me. Oh, my husband enjoys me in pale pink as much as dirt streaked and rolling on the ground.

  He removes his shirt and climbs on to the bed.

  My heart shudders at his stalking movement, but I swallow and hand him the envelope. He pauses, and takes the envelope, unfolding the secret inside.

  His chest expands. His jaw sets.

  Desire flares in the battered place between my legs.

  Holy shit.

  I’m in for it now.

  “Really…” He says, and glances up. It’s not a question. He looks at me and his jaw ticks. “Think I’ll be saving this for Valentine’s Day.”

  He sets the letter down.

  Oh, god. The beast. He’ll keep me waiting that long?

  He lunges for me. I’ll be paying for what the wait will cost him, in advance.

  My pussy pulses, and I shuffle back in bed.

  He grabs my wrists and slams them into the headboard, covering me in one swift move.

  I bite my teeth to keep in the sound, but my chest heaves.

  He rubs his bristles against the side of my face. “Thank you.”

  I gasp at the gentleness of the whisper, and warmth explodes in me. There hasn’t been a need to write him one of these fantasies in the year since he’s been back, but part of me couldn’t let that ritual die. “You’re welcome.”

  He presses his mouth to mine.

  I kiss him with everything I have in me.

  He wrenches up my nightgown, and fills me with a perfect sting.

  I moan, and grind, coming to satisfaction so swiftly on his cock, the contraction sends my breath clear from my chest. He ploughs into me, and I melt into him.

  Gentle or rough, delicate or mean, this man right here is my every fantasy, and my every holiday wish come true.

  CAUGHT FOR THE HOLIDAYS

  For six months, she’s tormented me. Driven me crazy. For six months, I’ve teetered on the edge of combustion. Been an aggressive monster of her creation, unable to have the one thing I need.