Trace stops in his tracks and doesn't even turn to look at me when he responds, dropping his tone to a perilous timbre.
"The funny thing about that, Reckless, is that there is no place for you to hide. Or did you forget? If you run, I will fucking find you." He turns his head to the side, subjecting me to the outline of his glowing mask. "So I'm not really sure you have a choice."
Anger sinks into my core, expanding and then aggressively fissioning with the force of firecracker, causing me to retaliate. "Fuck you!"
The snap of a twig resounds as he spins around. So fucking fast that not even a blink of my eyes can pass before he’s rushing up to me, pushing me back into the tree—this time, so hard that I fear he’s actually torn through me, like a butcher cleaving meat. The air nearly gets knocked out of me and the blood drains from my face. But I refuse to fucking back down so easily.
“What the hell happened to you?” I ask, taking in whatever air I can manage while I attempt to steel myself. I straighten my back and make sure my eye contact is the strongest he's ever felt from me, even if my vision is still blurred from the impact.
"You wanna know what fucking happened to me?" he asks in a guttural and surly manner, likely through clenched teeth.
I don't nod and I don't speak. I just accept the tight grip he's got on my body, pressing me flush against the rough bark of the tree until I feel like I might crumble, and I wait.
But something happens. A small, traitorous shift in my body. And I know he notices it. He senses the way I crave him, even in a position like this.
"Oh, Olivia," he whispers, and I feel it again.
The flood of heat between my legs. The way my breathing turns slow and labored, like I'm waiting for his next words with bated breath. It's the way my lids get heavy over my eyes and the way I feel my cheeks heat once again when I realize that I'm a weak bitch when it comes to Trace fucking Kavanaugh.
He's been gone for how long? And in that time I've trusted myself to not let his memory shadow over me. I've relied on the fact that I'd never see him again and knew that I wouldn't have to face what he had done. But my knees are literally trembling underneath me as his fingers dig into my skin and the muffled sound of his husky voice feathering into my ears makes my heart pound.
He presses into me, his body touching mine and the tension between us feels heavy and heated.Does he feel it?The way his body is crushing me for better and for worse. He's suffocating me and for some fucked up reason, I need more.
Trace leans in a little closer, his mask hovering over my face and the need to remove it so that I can press my lips to his is stronger than my desire to breathe at this point. But I hold off as I listen to his next words, knowing that I’m not right in my sick brain, not while he has me pinned like this. Not when he’s this close to me after all this time.
"Look at the way your lips part when I whisper to you." I gasp, not meaning to do exactly as he says. "I can practically see your pulse fluttering in your neck."My god.I can feel it. It's so strong. Blood is rushing between my ears and everything feels light and heavy all at the same time. He issplinteringme. But I can't let him see it. I can’t let him know that I have no poweragainst him, despite my best efforts; that he still has this effect on me.
I try to muster up the courage to fight my way out from being trapped between him and this damn tree again, but it's useless. And just when I think he's going to cut me a fucking break and step back, he only moves just enough to lift my leg up over his hip and forces it around his torso.
I let out a very quiet gasp when I feel the cold air hiss against my leg, realizing that the slit of my skirt has fallen open.
I'm not that short, maybe leveling out at about five-seven, but I'm not as tall as Trace who is six-two and consists of thew and stamina and authority and malice and wickedly handsome appeal. So attempting to let one of my legs stand firmly on the ground while the other is forcefully wrapped around his back is causing a cramp somewhere in my leg. That, and due to the fact that he is nothing but a beautiful nightmare incarnate, I find myselfwantingto wrap both of my legs around him and I think he notices both my pain and my desire.
He lifts me up entirely and wraps my other leg around him, both of my feet inadvertently locking behind him. Maybe out of fear, maybe out of necessity to make sure I don't slip down this tree, but mostly because my body reacts to him with need. I am foolish in his clutch, surrendering blindly because my body craves his danger more than I care about my own safety right now. Though, in my defense, I have never felt unsafe with Trace. But that could have changed over the years as well.
He presses into me again, and I have to hide my reaction. His dick is hard. And it's rightthere. God, it's treacherous. The way I'm tortured with the knowledge that he's aching for me this way, getting off of my intended pain and humiliation, and I can't help but feel guilty for liking it.
"What would I find if I slipped my hand under this skirt?" he asks me and I have to hold in another gasp so as not to give him the satisfaction of knowing that I'm weak to him and what he's doing to me. I'm supposed to be mad. Infuriated. Maybe even scared. But instead, my head falls back which might have the opposite effect, feeling his gaze light me up as he takes me in.
But I squeeze my eyes shut, swallowing down the scream I want to let out. Because I hate him. Because he's got me trapped. Because I want him to fucking touch me. And just as if I conjured his touch, Trace's fingers gently skate over my knee before he starts to slowly foxtrot them up toward my thigh.
I don't move an inch as he holds me right where he wants me and speaks to me in that hypnotically deep and husky voice of his, weathered over the years and a lot darker than I’ve known.
"Would I find you aroused between your soft thighs, Livie?" he asks, and I swallow.
Yes.I inhale.
His fingers crawl under my skirt where the slit meets. "Are you wet for me, Olivia?"
Yes.I exhale.
He opens his palms and slides his hand closer to the apex of my thighs where he's pressing into me. "This turns you on, doesn’t it?"
God, yes.
But right as I attempt to take another breath in, his fingers dance along the outer edge of my panties. I have to force myself to swallow the moan that so desperately wants to be let out, signaling to myself that I need to get control back of this situation, even if I want more than anything to be a prisoner to his cage, allowing him to taunt me as long as he makes me feel…
Stay strong,I think to myself.
