Hunted by the Mountain Man Bonus Scene
Brynn
One Year Later
I wake up alone in our California King, rolling over and lamenting the cold mattress. Beau said he’d be up early this morning scouting in preparation for his next guided hunt. Autumn is a busy time of year for him as an outfitter. Fortunately, since the death of the copycat stalker, he hasn’t been called in by law enforcement to locate any bodies or investigate homicides.
I stretch, yawning when a playful question sparks an idea. I wonder just how good my mountain man stalker still is at tracking and finding me?
After what happened a year ago with Ralph at the cliff, I haven’t ventured into the woods alone. Beau has been the most attentive and patient lover, accompanying me to film yoga videos and helping me slowly rebuild a sense of safety in the wilderness.
At first, the videos brought out his jealous and possessive streaks. He didn’t want anyone to see me on film stretching on my mat and showing off new athletic clothes. But after I reminded him that my audience are predominantly curvy girls who are thinking entirely different things than he is when watching a video, he relaxed.
Beau’s jealous streak and underlying abandonment issues were also soothed when we got married six months ago in a beautiful March ceremony at our cabin. The town turned out to make it an extra special day. From Denise and Emily at the Paradise Inn to Sheriff Will and Mandy and so many more. Murrieta is a cozy, close-knit community that quickly captured my heart. They are the found family I didn’t even know I was craving.
I also invited Raven, Steve, Lydia, and Tucker, the four hikers instrumental in alerting law enforcement about Ralph and launching the CLEAR alert that led Beau to me. And of course, my parents came to the wedding, radiant with joy that I was finally settling down and safe.
Mom hasn’t been able to stop commenting on how handsome and gentlemanly Beau is since their first official meeting in person after my rescue. And the mountain man quickly won over my dad. Beau’s stellar resume and reputation paved the way, and his rescue of me sealed the deal. Of course, the details around Ralph’s death will forever remain highly redacted, a secret Beau and I keep together from the rest of the world.
Jumping out of bed, I dress quickly, coming up with a plan. There’s a lovely stream not too far from our cabin where I often film yoga videos. Today, I decide to venture out on my own for the first time, gearing up for a mid-morning filming session and leaving a teasing note on the kitchen table for my husband: Track me if you can, handsome. I bring along my Karambit knife and bear spray just in case, feeling surprisingly confident and ready for this.
After the horrific final experience with Ralph Wade, I found myself shrinking and withdrawing out of fear. Being alone felt terrifying at first. When I told Beau in the bathtub I wasn’t certain I would ever let him out of my sight or my arms, I didn’t know how prophetic that statement would be. The therapist I’ve been talking with has reassured me that healing takes time. But at first, this felt overly optimistic. Today, though, I feel empowered, even a little bold, as I head down to the stream.
Spreading my mat out on the flattest part of the bank, I set up my tripod and phone to record before removing my shoes and socks and setting them out of view of the camera lens. One by one, I brush off my feet before standing on the mat and then sitting in a cross-legged position. After opening breath work and affirmations for a healthy and abundant practice, I dive in.
Over the past year, my viewership has grown exponentially … in ways that still surprise me. When news of my abduction and Ralph’s ensuing death first broke, millions of people began following my channel. Many were there for all the wrong reasons. Uncertain about how to move forward or what to do, I talked it out with Beau. He suggested I make one video to clear the air while warning off individuals there for anything other than yoga. After that, my numbers dropped off a bit, but I’ve still been thoroughly pleased by the subscribers who have stuck around and made my Backpacking Yogi channel even more of a viral success.
As I move through a series of sun salutations, I suddenly feel him … that familiar, virile energy on my flesh. The energy that will never cease to thrill and awaken my darkest and most primal needs. I try to keep my voice steady and my cheeks cool. But my heart thuds against my ribs and the juncture between my legs tightens, already begging for satisfaction from my feral husband.
Going off script in the video, I return to downward dog, sticking my ass in the air and working on alignment. It’s all an excuse to tempt Beau and finally bring to life the fantasy I had a year ago in this same pose. My pussy throbs at the thought as I arch my back, angling my ass in an invitation, every sense attuned to his approach.
Suddenly, rough, strong hands grip my hips from behind, and a gruff voice startles me. “You’re not live-streaming are you?”
I gasp, nearly falling over, but he steadies me by my hips. “No. But how in the hell do you do that?”
“Do what?” he asks gruffly, pressing his firming rod against my ass suggestively.
“Sneak up on me like that? Even when I’m waiting for you?” I try to sound annoyed, but it’s no use. My panties drip with anticipation.
“Because I’m the hunter, and you’re my prey,” he exhales sharply, pulling my yoga pants and G-string down in one fluid move. “And I’m going to take what I want, Butterfly.”
“Please,” I whimper, panting even more.
“Leaving this morning without waking you. Without fucking you was misery. I need my daily pussy, lover.”
“And I need my cock,” I retort, the tension in my lower core excruciating.
His thick fingers slide through my folds, and I gasp again. “Fuck,” he exclaims. “Always so damn wet for me.”
“Yes, baby, I need you so—”
Unexpectedly, he kneels on the mat behind me, spreading my legs wider before devouring me. “You’re better than coffee or breakfast or any fucking thing on this planet,” he growls greedily, sliding his tongue through my drenched folds. “You’re the only way I like to wake.” He pauses, staring between my legs at me with a lopsided grin. “And the only way I like to go to sleep … and spend my day. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I’m an obsessed stalker.”
I moan, shuddering and trembling at his artful touch. His beard tickles my inner thighs as he slips his tongue back and forth along my slit, eliciting pants and moans as my lower core tightens, and I draw closer and closer to the flying sensation of my orgasm.
“I’m okay with that,” I pant.
“Good because it’s too late to break this addiction, wife.” Spitting on his hand, he finds my clit with his free hand, clutching my hip with the other as he urges me to spread my legs some more. Thank goodness I’m flexible from yoga. I ride his face and his hand, stars and butterflies flittering around in my head, lighting me up with desire as I float higher and higher into the atmosphere. “That’s right, Butterfly. I want to make you feel so good that you cover my face in honey.”
“Yes, baby. Yes, please don’t stop,” I plead, my pussy painfully tight as I fly over the precipice of ecstasy, fluttering and trembling around his finger before I gasp, milking his thick fingers. His movements grow insistent, determined as he holds my hips, penetrating me with his tongue and undoing me until I plead with him to stop, so sensitive that I need a moment to catch my breath.
“Husband, that was amazing,” I sigh, crumpling onto all fours and looking over my shoulder at him.
“No, you were amazing. God, I love the way your body responds to me, like I’m all you want.” His voice goes raw at the end.
Turning and crawling in his direction, I say in smooth, seductive tones. “That’s because you are all I want for the rest of my life.”
His eyes flood with tenderness, letting me know that despite his tough exterior, he needs these small, daily reassurances. Finding the button and fly to his camouflage pants, I fight the strain of his growing bulge to unzip him, pulling down his boxer briefs greedily and freeing his massive cock. “Now that you’ve had a taste of forbidden fruit, I need to indulge myself, too.”
“Fuck,” he says, his voice tight with anticipation. “You do realize you’re still filming, right?” He arches an eyebrow in the direction of the tripod.
“I guess we have something to watch together later, then,” I tease, giggling. Before he can say another word, I close the distance, swirling my tongue around his smooth, taut head.
Beau groans, entangling his big hands in my hair as I take his shaft into my mouth, adoring every inch of him. I take my time, drawing out his pleasure and savoring the salty, metallic drips of pre-cum he rewards me with, his cheeks flushed, his whole body taut with need and restraint. I sink my head lower, relaxing my throat to take him even deeper, but he stops me.
His voice is a study in self-control as he grunts out. “That feels fucking amazing. But I need to finish in your pussy, Butterfly. Please.”
My yoga pants and G-string are still around my knees, and I hurry out of them as he stands to remove his shirt, boots, pants and boxers. His body is savage and strong in the afternoon light, and my eyes rove hungrily over his firm, angular muscles and large, erect rod. Pulling me into his arms, he lifts me off the ground with ease, like I weigh nothing.
I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist as our lips meet in passionate, soul-stirring kisses. I’m so wet and his rod is so straight that he easily slides into me without using his hands, bending his knees and working his legs to bounce me up and down on his cock with long, delicious strokes.
“Yes, Beau,” I scream as he slams into me again and again, going deeper with each thrust and unraveling my thinking brain completely. I dissolve into pure bliss, coming hard and throbbing around his cock as he pounds me. His hot breath covers my cheek, and his mouth captures mine as he drives himself over the precipice, thrusting into me with his warm release.
Afterwards, we lie together on the yoga mat, enjoying the freedom of our forested land, where we can recline naked, indulging in our most carnal desires without any interruptions or prying eyes.
“I was surprised to see you venture out today, Butterfly. What do you think helped you finally do it?” Beau asks, stroking my burgundy locks.
“Curiosity.”
“How do you mean?”
“Curiosity to find out whether my mountain man stalker’s still as good at tracking me as he was a year ago.”
“And how did I do?” he asks gruffly, leaning down to kiss me.
“Better than every fantasy I’ve ever dreamed up.”
He chuckles, making his whole chest rumble. “So, you’ve been fantasizing about me?”
“No, I stopped that a while ago,” I reply with a shrug.
“Why?” he asks, scrutinizing my face and sounding a little disappointed.
“Because there’s not a fantasy I’ve concocted that can come close to the reality of being your wife.”
He rolls on top of me, with a teasing growl. “Oh, really? That sound like a challenge, Butterfly.”
“A challenge to what?” I ask.
“To blow that pretty mind of yours again…”
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