She looks at me with … pity? Or is that sorrow? Either way, I can’t stand it. I release her and retreat a couple of steps. She moves toward me, placing her right hand on my cheek. I freeze, unable to move or breathe, or formulate a single coherent thought.
“Are you okay?” she asks. It’s not the words I expected to hear from her mouth in this moment.
“What?” I ask.
“After what happened in the hallway tonight, are you … okay?” she asks again. Oh, how the tables have turned. Except, I don’t want to fucking talk about that.
“I’m fine,” I say, a little too harshly. I move out of her grasp. She isn’t buying it. Instead, she seems to have reconnected with that little attitude of hers from earlier.
“You know what? Fine!” she says, raising her voice. She points a finger at me accusingly. “Deal with this your fucking self, then! You and I both know you were jealous of his hands on my body.” She drags both of her hands down over the sides of her breasts, moving them down to her waist and hips. “I was going to go home with him, you know. Maybe have a good ti—”
I’ve heard enough. In two seconds, I’m charging her, and we’re tumbling to the ground. I cradle the back of her head to ease the blow, and then I grab both of her wrists and pin them above her head, straddling her.
“Don’t … say … another … fucking … word,” I spit out. My heart is pounding in my ears, and I can hardly think past the feeling of pure anger bubbling inside my veins. Her chest is once again heaving, and her crop top is riding up, exposing theunderneath of her perfect fucking tits to me. Her nipples are pebbled against the thin clothing, and I can’t stop the swelling of my cock in response to it. I grab both of her wrists in one hand, moving the other beneath her jaw. I push her head back, and her breathing accelerates. I know she might think she’s pissed off right now, but I can tell she’s also enjoying this. A deep chuckle escapes me.
“Now tell me, what were you going to do with that piece of shit guy who had his hands where they don’t belong?” I ask, moving my hand from her throat to pull a pocketknife out of my pants and flip it open. I want to test a theory of my own. Her eyes flick to the blade, and she inhales sharply.
“I-I was—” She swallows, pushing her hips up into me. Does she even notice she’s doing it? “I was going to go home with him,” she finishes.
I bring the tip of the blade to her chest above her shirt, pressing it into her skin just enough to draw a thin line of blood. I run the blade straight down. I still the blade when a moan escapes her lips, because that response is not what I expected. It’s even better.
“Mmmm,” I murmur. “What were you going to let him do to you, then?” I bring the blade to the top of her shirt and cut right through it. Her breasts pop out. And illuminated by the moonlight, surrounded by the forest, they’re even more perfect than I remember. She gasps, looking down at what I’ve done to her. She doesn’t fight me off. Instead, she plays the game.
“I was gonna let him touch me …here.” She pulls at my hand that’s still pinning her wrists together above her head, and I let one of them go. I need to see wherehereis. She moves her hand down to her nipple, tugging at it before moving it to her other one to do the same. I trace the path lightly with the blade, not breaking the skin this time. Goosebumps climb over her breasts in response. She arches her back into the touch. It takeseverything in me not to give in to the need that I feel tearing me apart from the inside out.
Instead, I say, “Show me where else you’d let him touch you.” She obeys, swallowing hard, as she moves her hand down over her navel. She moves lower until her hand is beneath the waistband of her ripped, black jeans.
“Here,” she says. “I’d let himtaste me, here.”Fuuuuuck. I groan. She’s moving her hand inside of her pants now, arching her neck. Then, shemoans.
“Fuck, Sloane.” I lose myself to the moment. “You’re so pretty when you touch yourself.” This response only seems to push her further. Her hand moves faster, and her back arches from the ground even more.
“Mmmm. Van, I think I’m gonna …” she moans, breathless. I grab her hand, pulling it away right before she can finish that thought. She opens her eyes and gasps, obviously pissed off. Although she can’t see it, I smile.
“Did you think I’d let you come that easily after the attitude you’ve had all night?” I ask, holding her wrist in one hand. She whimpers with the need to finish what she started.
“Do you want to come, Sloane? Should I let you finish?” I ask, pulling up my mask just enough to expose my mouth. I bring her hand to my lips and put her index and middle fingers in my mouth, sucking her arousal off of them with a groan.
“God, Sloane, you taste sofuckinggood.” Her eyes widen, and her mouth pops open, and I don’t miss the obvious blush that colors her cheeks.
“You love this, don’t you? You love being chased through the forest by a masked man who wants to fuck that attitude right out of you, don’t you?” My thoughts stream without a filter. I’ll have to have a conversation with myself later, but now is not that time. I’m too far gone. Sloane nods, seemingly at a loss for words.
“Words, little nightmare,” I say.
“Please …pleaselet me come,” she begs. I release her hand and flip her over until she’s on all fours. I grab her jeans and pull them down to her knees, noticing that she isn’t wearing any underwear. I’m beginning to think that she doesn’t own any. I groan, pushing her back down until her face rests gently against the forest floor. I spread her legs farther apart with my knees, bringing my hand down to her center. She’s soaking fucking wet. I move my hand in slow, careless circles, dipping one inside of her.
“So wet for me, Sloane,” I purr. She releases a moan, finally receiving what she’s been desperately seeking.
“Yes, Van.Yes, please,” she begs. I continue my back and forth between her clit and her center, picking up my pace.
“I love hearing you beg, Sloane. Soneedy, aren’t you?” I grab a handful of her hair with my other hand and tug her head back.
“That’s it. You’re doing so good for me,” I say, knowing the praise will send her over the edge. Her breathing picks up, and I feel her pussy tightening around my fingers.
“Van, I think I’m about to …” she pants between breathy moans.
“I know, little nightmare, I know. Let go for me.” I tug her head back a little harder, ensuring that it stings. She moans louder, reassuring me that she’s enjoying the pain as much as the pleasure.
“Van!” she screams as the orgasm wrecks her like a tidal wave, pulling her under until she can barely breathe.
