I start to rock against him, desperate for more than what he’s giving because it’s not enough. I need to come. He’s edged me so many times in the span of twenty-four hours and I need him to let me fucking come. I don’t care how vindictive he is. I don’t careabout his threats. I don’t care that he’s been hunting me. If anything, it magnifies my need.
“That’s right. Grind that sweet little pussy, Olivia. Come on, baby girl. Fuck my hand.”
He looks down at me, and the moment he does, I can feel it. I can feel my orgasm building. My back is pressed hard into the tree, I’m sure it’s marking me, but I don’t care. I want this. I need this.
“Don’t stop,” he demands and I have to swallow hard to keep my nerves from exploding, trying to balance myself. “Tell me you want me to make you come,” he groans into my neck.
His hands are everywhere. On my tits, touching my pussy. His lips are so close to mine as he watches me deny his request, shaking my head no. But I’m lying. I want him to make me come so hard that even he will feel claimed by me. But I don’t want him to know how bad I need him right now. How bad I’ve always wanted him. How I didn’t just fuck myself to slasher movies or because Jensen couldn’t get me off. But how I fucked myself hard to images of him. Of craving him to fuck me again. I’ve never been able to get him out of my head.
“You don’t think I’ll let you come, do you?”
I whimper and moan in agony, feeling like I’m about to explode. My whole body is on fire despite being under the light layer of icy cold rain.
“I will, baby. I promise. You just have to tell me you need me to make you come.”
Trace captures my lips once more, kissing me so hard I nearly see stars. “Tell me, flower. Tell me you need me to make you come,” he repeats in a sincere, gentle timbre and this time, I give in.
“I- I need you to make me come, Trace. Please,” I beg, greedy for this release.
He finally presses his finger into my pussy and it’s like a bomb detonates. I feel the start of the avalanche, satisfaction bursting inside me. I have to reach out to hold him by his shoulders to stop myself from coming, because I need just a few more moments of his finger caressing me. I’ve waited to fucking long to not enjoy it.
“Fuck, baby. You really are so goddamn wet. Do you hear yourself? Do you hear how fucking soaked your pretty little cunt is, Livie?” I can’t hear anything except the deep pounding of my heart.
I bite my lip and bow my head, touching our foreheads and I hold on to him, riding his hand as he finger fucks me, his tempo fast and hard.
“Oh, Trace,” I cry out, knowing that I can’t hold on any longer. Pleasure twists inside of me with a force I haven’t felt before as my nerve endings buzz with electricity.
“That’s right, baby. Squeeze me with your tight pussy. You’re gonna come, pretty reckless? You wanna soak my fingers?” He pushes harder and faster and it’s too fucking much. His palm hits my clit and he trusts two fingers inside of me. I close my eyes, succumbing to the throes of my cresting orgasm.
“Ye-yes. Oh,fuck. I’m gonna come, Trace.Oh my god, I’m-”
And then he stops. He pulls his hand out of my pants, removing his other hand from my breast and I open my eyes right as he takes a step back to look at me.
“What? No, no, no. Trace, you fucking promised!” I shout, feeling beyond frustrated. I was right there. Right fucking there.
I’m panting, bent over in frustration, humiliation, but more than anything, I’m angry.
I lift my bra back up, hating that I let him get me like this again. Trace smirks at me and I swear I could fucking kill him for it.
“The value of keeping promises,” he taunts as he leans back in and forcefully shoves his index and middle fingers between my lips, hooking them behind my bottom teeth and holding them there. I immediately realize that it’s the hand that was just fucking me with, because I can taste myself on his fingers.
He pulls me forward with his fingers, lowering his face to mine so that our noses touch and I have nowhere to look except into his traitorous eyes.
“The last time I made this pretty little cunt come, you left me,” he whispers darkly. “So until I can make sure you won’t try to fucking run again, consider yourself always on edge, Reckless.”
I attempt to bite down on his fingers, but it’s no use. It only turns him on, something I can see swirling in his eyes and the way his jaw ticks.
He shoves me back before removing his fingers, and I practically sputter for air as he starts to walk away. He leans down for his hoodie, and I expect him to keep walking but instead he tosses it behind him at me, and I barely register catching it, but I do.
Still, as I watch him, his back scratched and bloody from being up against the tree earlier, I feel hatred seep into my bones. Even more so than I didbefore. Only because I crave him so bad and he's fucking toying with me.
“I wish you would go back to whatever fucking hollow hole you crawled from!” I shout at him and he stops dead in his tracks.
My heart races, wondering if he’ll turn back for me. Does that excite me or terrify me? I don’t know. But I watch as he barely turns his head to the side.
“You dug that hollow hole for me, Olivia. Give yourself some fucking credit.” He turns back around. "Oh, and Olivia?"
I don't respond, silently waiting for him to insult me one more time but instead, he dips his head between his shoulders before he lowers his voice and says, "Happy Birthday."
