Pervert In Stone Age: Breaking Cavewomen with Modern Kinks

Chapter 359: Finding Bill

I sat up slowly, palms raised in a universal "easy" gesture.

"Last night you fell asleep," I said, voice low and calm, careful not to spook her further. "Your head was falling sideways. I just... caught you. Let you rest against my shoulder. That’s all."

Mira’s glare could have cut glass. But beneath the fury, there was something else—something softer, almost coquettish, like she was embarrassed not just by the nakedness, but by the memory of how safe she’d felt curled against me.

She didn’t respond right away.

Instead, she lunged for her discarded clothes, snatching them up in a hurried bundle. She shook out her panties first—vigorous snaps of fabric, eyes scanning every seam for any stray ants—then her bra, then her pants and jacket.

She dressed with frantic efficiency, back turned to me the whole time, shoulders hunched like she could will the morning light to stop looking at her.

I watched her for a second—quiet, respectful—then reached for my own clothes. Jacket. Pants. Boots. The motions were automatic, but my eyes kept drifting to her: the way her breasts swayed slightly as she bent to pull on her pants, the curve of her ass as she tugged the pants up over her hips, the quick, nervous way she buttoned her jacket with trembling fingers.

When she was finally dressed—clothes wrinkled, hair still messy, but covered—she turned to face me. Her arms crossed tight over her chest again, chin lifted in that stubborn way she had.

"We should keep going now," she said. Her voice was firm, but it wavered just a little at the end—like she wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or convincing herself.

I nodded once. "Yeah. We should."

I stood up slowly, brushing dust off my thighs, and put on my clothes. Mira didn’t step back when I moved closer—just watched me with those dark, conflicted eyes, the morning sun turning the edges of her irises to warm amber. For a long second, neither of us spoke.

Something shifted inside me in that quiet beat.

I don’t just want her body, but I want her to choose me. Winning her body will be easy; winning her heart would be the real challenge. And fuck if that didn’t excite me more than any thrust ever could.

I opened the world map function in my mind’s eye—the strange, godlike interface only I could see. A translucent overlay shimmered into view, pinning our location in the middle of nowhere and marking every living thing within range.

Bill was still there.

Exactly where he’d been yesterday. A small red dot, unmoving, was tucked in a ravine about three kilometers northeast. He hadn’t moved an inch. Either he was dead, unconscious, or too injured to walk. Maybe waiting for rescue. Maybe waiting to die.

My pulse kicked up.

Perfect.

I closed the map and focused outward. With a silent command, I summoned the mountain lion that had been shadowing us since yesterday—sleek, golden-eyed, obedient to my will like everything else in this twisted place. I felt its mind brush mine: Come. Hide. Wait.

A low rustle answered from the underbrush fifty meters away. The big cat melted into the ferns and fallen logs, invisible unless you knew where to look.

I turned back to Mira. She was still watching me, arms crossed, expression guarded.

"We need to move," she said again, firmer this time. "The sooner we get out of here, the better."

I didn’t argue. I just started walking in the direction the map indicated, keeping my pace steady so she could keep up without feeling rushed. She fell in beside me, steps quick and purposeful, eyes scanning the trees ahead like she could will Bill into view.

We moved in silence for the first kilometer. The forest was waking up—birds calling, leaves rustling, sunlight filtering through the canopy in golden shafts. Mira’s breathing grew shallower the closer we got.

Mira found the shoe marks... again on the trail, where we were yesterday, and we keep moving. Mira didn’t know whether this trail was Bill’s or Jack’s, but she still followed as she had no other choice.

When we were about 50 meters away from Bill, I slowed.

"Stay behind me," I said quietly. "Just in case."

Mira nodded, but I could see the tremor in her hands—small, almost imperceptible shakes that betrayed the storm inside her. We walked in tense silence, the terrain growing steeper, the path narrowing into a rocky slope that dropped away sharply to our right into a sheer cliff face.

The drop was dizzying: jagged rocks below, mist rising from somewhere far down, the kind of height that made your stomach lurch even if you weren’t afraid of falling.

I pushed forward, senses razor-sharp. The mountain lion’s presence brushed my mind again—close now, crouched low in the underbrush, muscles coiled like a spring. I sent it a single, clear command: Wait for my signal.

We crested the rise.

There, perched on a thick tree branch about ten feet up, sat Bill—alive, unharmed, looking more annoyed than injured.

He’d clearly climbed up to escape something and decided to wait it out. No blood. No broken bones. Just a teenage boy who’d had a bad night and was now mildly inconvenienced by gravity.

Mira gasped, hand flying to her mouth.

"Bill!"

Bill’s head snapped toward the sound. His eyes widened.

"Mom...?"

He scrambled down the branch with surprising agility for someone who’d supposedly been chased by a predator, dropped the last few feet, and ran straight into Mira’s arms.

Mira’s hands frantically checking him—arms, legs, face, neck—searching for any sign of hurt.

"Mom, don’t worry, I’m totally fine," Bill said, half-laughing, half-exasperated. "Have you found Dad?"

Mira shook her head, tears already welling.

"No... not yet."

Bill hugged her tighter. "Dad must be looking for us right now. Yesterday, that lion chased me, and Dad and I ran in different directions. The lion kept coming after me, so Dad must’ve gone back to look for you. He’s probably circling back."

Mira exhaled shakily, relief flooding her face. "It’s good... everyone is okay..."

I watched them—mother and son reunited, clinging to each other as the world had almost taken one away forever.

And then I gave the command to the lion to corner Bill toward the cliff.

The mountain lion exploded from the bushes with a guttural roar that shook the trees.

Mira’s scream was immediate and piercing.

"Bill—NO!"

Bill stumbled backward, eyes wide with terror, arms flailing as the massive cat landed between us—golden fur streaked with dirt, fangs bared, eyes locked on him like prey.

"Mom! It’s—it’s coming!" Bill’s voice cracked high, boyish panic flooding every word. "Mom, help—HELP!"

The lion advanced slowly, paws silent on the rocky ground, pushing Bill step by step toward the cliff edge. Mira’s hands shook as she yanked the pistol from her waistband.

"Get away from my son!" she screamed, voice raw and breaking. "GET AWAY!"

She fired—once, twice—the shots cracking like thunder.

The lion roared in pain, staggering, but kept coming—crawling now, blood matting its side.