Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks Chapter 359: Finding Bill

Slowly, I pushed myself upright, holding my open palms out in that familiar sign to calm things down.

"You dozed off last night," I explained, keeping my tone soft and steady, making sure not to startle her even more. "Your head started tilting to one side. I merely... supported it. Let you lean on my shoulder. Nothing beyond that."

Mira's fierce stare seemed sharp enough to slice through stone. Yet under that anger lurked another emotion—something gentler, nearly playful, as if she felt shame not only for her bare skin but also for recalling how secure she'd been nestled close to me.

She held back her reply for a moment.

Instead, she darted toward her scattered garments, grabbing them in a rushed pile. First, she flicked her panties sharply—quick cracks of cloth, gaze darting over each fold for lurking insects—followed by her bra, then pants and jacket.

With hurried precision, she pulled on her outfit, keeping her back to me throughout, shoulders drawn up as though she could block the dawn's gaze from her form.

For a brief instant, I observed her—silently, politely—before grabbing my own attire. Jacket first. Then pants. Boots next. The actions felt routine, yet my gaze wandered back to her: the subtle bounce of her chest as she leaned to slide on her pants, the swell of her rear as she hiked them over her hips, the hasty, jittery way she fastened her jacket with shaky hands.

Once fully clothed—garments rumpled, locks disheveled, but concealed at last—she spun to confront me. Her arms folded firmly across her bosom once more, jaw set in that defiant tilt she favored.

"We ought to press on," she declared. Her words rang resolute, though they quivered faintly at the close—as if she wondered whether she addressed me or reassured her own doubts.

I gave a single nod. "Right. Let's do that."

Gradually, I rose to my feet, dusting off my legs, and slipped into my clothing. Mira held her ground as I approached—no retreat—just fixed me with those deep, turbulent eyes, the early sunlight warming the rims of her pupils to a golden hue. For an extended pause, words hung unspoken between us.

In that hushed interval, a change stirred within me.

It's not merely her form I crave, but her willing choice of me. Claiming her physically might prove simple; capturing her affection—that's the true test. And damn, that thrill surpassed any physical rush.

In my mental vision, I activated the world map feature—that eerie, divine display visible solely to me. A sheer layer materialized, centering our spot in the wilderness and highlighting every creature nearby.

Bill remained in place.

Right where he'd lingered the day before. A tiny crimson marker, stationary, nestled in a gully roughly three kilometers to the northeast. No shift at all. Perhaps deceased, out cold, or wounded beyond mobility. Could be awaiting aid. Or simply biding time for the end.

My heartbeat quickened.

Ideal.

I dismissed the map and turned my attention to the surroundings. Through a quiet mental order, I called forth the mountain lion trailing us since the prior day—graceful, amber-gazed, submissive to my control like all else in this warped realm. Its thoughts grazed mine: Come. Hide. Wait.

A faint stir echoed from the brush about fifty meters off. The powerful feline blended into the foliage and debris, unseen save for those who knew precisely where to search.

I faced Mira again. She continued to eye me, limbs crossed, features wary.

"Time to head out," she repeated, more insistent now. "The faster we escape this place, the better."

I offered no protest. I simply began striding toward the map's indicated path, matching my speed so she could match without strain. She matched my stride, movements swift and determined, scanning the woods forward as if to summon Bill into sight.

Silence enveloped our first kilometer. The woodland stirred to life—avian cries, foliage whispering, beams of sunlight piercing the overhead branches in radiant streaks. Mira's breaths turned shorter as we neared.

Mira spotted the shoe prints... once more along the path from yesterday, and onward we went. She couldn't tell if this track belonged to Bill or Jack, yet she trailed along, lacking any alternative.

As we neared fifty meters from Bill, I eased my pace.

"Keep to my rear," I murmured softly. "For safety's sake."

Mira dipped her head, though I noted the quiver in her grip—faint tremors revealing the turmoil brewing within. We proceeded in strained quiet, the ground steepening, the route constricting to a stony incline that plunged abruptly rightward into a vertical drop.

The abyss induced vertigo: rough boulders far below, vapor ascending from depths unseen, a vertigo-inducing span that twisted the gut regardless of fear of heights.

I forged ahead, awareness honed to a keen edge. The mountain lion's essence touched my thoughts anew—nearby, hunkered in the thicket, sinews tensed like wire. I issued it a lone, precise directive: Wait for my signal.

We topped the ridge.

There, balanced on a sturdy limb roughly ten feet above, perched Bill—breathing, unscathed, appearing more irritated than battered.

He'd evidently scaled the tree to evade some threat and chosen to bide his time. No wounds. No fractures. Merely a youth enduring a rough evening, now mildly hampered by altitude.

Mira let out a sharp intake of breath, palm pressing to her lips.

"Bill!"

Bill's gaze whipped toward the noise. His eyes bulged.

"Mom...?"

With unexpected nimbleness for one pursued by a beast, he clambered down the bough, leaped the final drop, and dashed into Mira's embrace.

Mira's fingers roamed over him urgently—limbs, torso, features, throat—probing for any trace of injury.

"Mom, relax, I'm completely okay," Bill assured her, blending chuckles with mild frustration. "Did you locate Dad?"

Mira shook her head, moisture gathering in her eyes.

"Not... yet."

Bill pulled her closer. "Dad's surely searching for us at this moment. That lion pursued me yesterday, splitting Dad and me apart. It stuck to my trail, so Dad likely returned to find you. He's probably looping around now."

Mira released a trembling breath, ease washing over her expression. "That's reassuring... we're all safe..."

I observed the pair—parent and child reunited, holding fast as if the world had nearly stolen one for good.

And then I signaled the lion to drive Bill toward the precipice.

With a deep, rumbling bellow that rattled the branches, the mountain lion burst from the foliage.

Mira's cry rang out sharp and shrill.

"Bill—NO!"

Bill reeled back, stare filled with dread, limbs thrashing as the enormous feline positioned itself between us—tawny coat dusted with earth, teeth exposed, gaze fixed on him as target.

"Mom! It's—it's charging!" Bill's tone broke into a youthful shriek, raw fear saturating each syllable. "Mom, save me—SAVE ME!"

The lion crept forward deliberately, footfalls hushed on the stone, herding Bill incrementally to the brink. Mira's grasp trembled as she drew the handgun from her belt.

"Back off my boy!" she bellowed, voice hoarse and fracturing. "BACK OFF!"

She squeezed off rounds—once, twice—the blasts echoing like claps of lightning.

The lion bellowed in agony, faltering, yet persisted—dragging itself onward, crimson staining its flank.