“Fuck,” he groans into my neck. His fingers dig into my ass as he pulls me into him tighter. I moan against his skin, nearly going limp when I feel the tip of his cock push into my clit. How, through so many layers of clothing, is he able to do that?
Next thing I know, he spins us back around and drops me, putting me back up against the tree. His breathing matches mine. Rough. Fast. Desperate. Both locked under some kind of fucking spell. Entwined in ecstasy. Consumed by lust.
I need more.
He consumes me, kissing me with rough and fevered abandon. I wrap my arms around his waist, wanting to fucking touch him. I slide them across his skin toward his back, melting in the way it feels to hold him like this again. But in a second that feeling collapses and I damn near choke in his mouth when I feel the unmistakable mold of a gun.
I lean back, breaking the kiss as I quiver. He chuckles darkly as he looks down at me before reaching behind him and pulling the pistol from his waistband.
“Remember this, Reckless? Remember just how fucking hard you almost came from this alone?” He presses the nozzle of the gun to my cheek, sliding it down and then over my lips.
I fucking whimper, feeling my pussy soak with arousal as he stares into my eyes, pressing the tip of his weapon against my lips.
I shake my head, afraid he’ll do it. Afraid he’ll try and put it all the way in my mouth. I’m wet, sure. I’m so fucking turned on, but that is something that I’m not sure I can handle.
He grins at me, a look of pure, sinful adoration coats his hazel eyes and it makes me dizzy with lust. He puts the gun back where I found it before leaning back down to my mouth.
“You forgot one,” he says and it takes a minute for my head to stop spinning to realize what he’s talking about. But I don’t care to keep looking at tattoos right now. I want him to touch me again. To own me.
I look over his body anyway and point to the snake. He shakes his head. I look at the mandala design on his elbow, pointing to that. He’s staring right at me, not even looking where I’m pointing. But still, he shakes his head. Not it.
I get restless, feeling the ache between my thighs thrumming aggressively. I don’t want to play any more games.
“I give up,” I say rather annoyed, but more so due to my anxiousness to move on and get back to the part where his hands are on my body.
Trace leans back and holds out both of his hands in front of us, palms down.
My brows squeeze together.
“Those?” I grab his hands, analyzing the skeleton bones tattooed over his hand. I’m confused. I try to sift through my brain to figure out how they could resemble me, but I come up short.
“How are these a reminder of-”
He rushes me, throwing my head back into the tree as he wraps one of his tatted hands around my throat.My body tenses up, I already feel like I can’t breathe as he tightens his grip, but I focus on my heartbeat and the way he moves in on me, holding me by the neck.
Trace leans in and lowers his eyes at me, giving me that dark molten honey look that scares me to my core, all while turning me on.
“These are for decoration,” he starts in a gravelly tone. “Thought they would look pretty wrapped around your fucking throat.”
He leans back and makes it a point to observe his handy work, admiring the way he's got me pushed up against the tree.
I can only imagine the way I look. My hair is wet from the rain, tangled from being tossed around, mascara dripping down my cheek, and my sweater is in pieces on my body with his hand tight around my throat as I struggle to breathe.
“Yeah. I was right. You look fucking divine, Reckless.”
He yanks me by the throat, pulling me into him and not a second later, he’s devouring me. He shoves his tongue in my mouth, still squeezing his fist tight so I gasp as he does. But I want him everywhere so I fight him for a little bit of control, trying to tug his hand off my neck. Or at least to make him loosen it. But he doesn’t and I get dizzy when he presses his palm over my breast.
He kisses me with ruthless abandon. His other hand pulls down the top of my bra to expose my breast to the cold winter air and I gasp, a silent noise falling from my parted lip.
“Jesus Christ, baby. Look at how pretty you are right now.” He leans back as he looks me up and down. “Fuck, I couldkill for this, ya know?” He slides his finger over my hardened nipple, flicking it and then circling it. “Yeah, Olivia. I could take a mother fucker’s life if they every tried to put their hands on what is so undeniably mine.”
He finally,finally, lets my neck go, just as my vision was starting to get a little fuzzy and he uses that hand to slip under the band of my pants. I freeze, my whole body feeling too fucking sensitive, like one wrong—or right—move will detonate everything. But he gives me no time to process before he touches my pussy.
I thrash in pleasure, his other hand still playing with my breast. He slides his fingers down my slit, causing me to throw my head back in an aggressive moan. He presses the pad of his middle finger against my entrance but doesn’t go further. I’m so fucking turned on, dripping with so much need that it physically hurts.
He pinches my nipple between his fingers right as he slides up to my clit. I try to moan again but he captures my mouth with his and bites down on my lower lip. “You are so fucking wet,” he growls with my lip caught between his teeth.
I can feel my walls wanting to clench around something, wanting to take something in, but he teases me by sliding his fingers up and down. The bottom of his palm presses against my clit and he holds it there for a second and then he slides his hand back up and barely touches my clit with his finger.
