He does something behind me. The condom. I hear the rip and rustle, the smooth hum of a zipper, the plastic snap of the thing going on.
It’s all happening slowly, and fast. Too quickly for me to latch onto details. I want them, though. I want to bottle it all up for later.
He’s efficient in the dark. Not his first rodeo. The most absurd spike of jealousy pierces my skin like a splinter.
Before I can unpack that, he’s got my hip in his grip, he runs that hand down my front and finally—God, finally—he gets to my sopping wet core.
A growl rumbles out into the night, low and deep, so quiet it’s almost a purring in his chest.
My pussy clenches, my whole body tense with expectation. I think he likes how tense I’ve gotten. His fingers sweep down, slow and easy, splaying my lips before glancing my clit. His gentle slap forces a gasp from my lungs.
Without warning, he bends at the knee, urges my hips back, and slides his thick cock between my thighs. It’s so sudden, my mind stutters.
He’s thick. Fuck, thick and hot.
One long, slick glide forward, another back. The sound of his erection through all that wetness is obscene and embarrassing and I want to curl in on myself and hide.
He won’t let me. Of course not.
Another easy glide of his cock between my legs, the threat of penetration, the promise of something else. I’ve never been so turned on in my life. Every move, sound, smell is right here.
His crown notches at my entrance.
I freeze.
We’re just two animals, in the wild. One toying with the other, threatening, though only gently. I’m at his mercy, waiting.
Wanting. Aching with need.
Empty.
Is he teasing me? Has he changed his mind?
I reach for him then, which I guess is a mistake. The second my hand touches his erection, he goes absolutely wild.
And good lord I did not know what I was getting into.
4
Grace
My body moves back,the change so abrupt, I see stars. I slam into him, the tree suddenly gone. I’m a helpless mess—legs caught in my jeans, breasts out, ass buck naked in the woods.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” he snarls, right into my ear. A split second later, I’m lowered face down to the ground, his body above, then on top of me and…
Oh fuck. He’s on me, his cock and pubic hair grinding against my cunt. He’s rasping out breaths that heat my neck, my ear, my shoulder.
It’s terrifying and yet I speak this language. My body wants this.
I claw for something—his hair—and get a handful of fabric. He grasps my hand and yanks it away with a harsh, “No.”
It takes me a second to realize it’s a ski mask. He’s wearing a mask. Of course he is.
“Don’t touch that.”
“Sorry.” I’m, breathless, eager.Don’t stop.
My body wants more of this—the fight. Twisting, I work to get him off me. Something primitive’s building inside me, scratching and scrabbling to get out. I can’t grab his hair, but I can push him. I can twist hard and use my knees.
