He grunts and reacts, bigger, more brutal.
This. This savage, bestial thing. This is what I want. What I need.
We scuffle in the dirt. My forearm blocks him, cuts him off at the throat. He grunts and gives me his weight. It’s as much of a tool as his blunt hands.
Why am I fighting this? I honestly don’t know. I don’t know why it feels so right to shove an elbow in his side or twist hard in his grasp. I like it when he traps me, too. Hands on my wrists, legs pegging mine to the cool, mossy earth.
Oh, fuck, his erection’s right there and I’m so turned on it hurts.
Everything hurts.
“Don’t fucking move,” he grunts.
I follow rules, I don’t break them. Why don’t I listen?
My inner animal’s too fierce to go gentle into this good night. With a snarl of my own, I twist, hard, truly trying to escape. He counters.
I crawl maybe two feet before he’s over me, on me, constricting my world into heat and breath, beastly sounds and the damp smell of soil. He’s too fast, too strong, too dominant.
I’m so wet, it’s slicking down my thighs. I can smell it, mingled with the rich loam of dead leaves and new growth and… Oh, oh, oh my body’s arching up to him, inviting him in while still trying to claw away. My ass is beckoning, my legs straining to open where he’s kept me clamped together.
I crane my head—not to escape this time, but to turn and, hell, I don’t know, kiss him, maybe? Bite him? I strain to see behind his mask, watch his body, take in the size of the monster who’s overpowered me.
“Anything you want to say?” This, I know, is my last chance to give the safe word.
I shut my mouth, shake my head.
“Good.” He nudges my ear with his nose and breathes in, though I wonder how much he can smell through that mask. “Good girl.” Goosebumps race over my body, painful as the empty ache between my legs. I stretch myself out, an offering to the beast.
He responds with a firm press of his hips.
Slowly, almost lazily now, he pulls back enough to push the hot length of his erection between my thighs. Taking his time, he slides a hand under my abdomen and lifts me higher, angling me the way he likes.
I can’t move. I don’t want to. I’m staying right here. It feels elemental and dirty. And free.
Being ground into the mud, half-naked, alone with a stranger, I feel more right than I have in years.
He’s making muted, gruff sounds, more barbarian than man. He thrusts against my folds, hitting my clit. I shudder. I think I groan. I don’t know.
My body takes his movements, curves into them.
We’ve danced this way before.The thought comes and goes.
When he wedges the thick, blunt crown of his cock to my entrance this time, I whine with relief, fear, pure, pure want, real life so far from my mind I might as well not even have a name.
I couldn’t give it right now if I tried.
One side of my face is flush to the ground, my ass in the air, my nipples skimming the earth’s surface as he presses harder, deeper, his erection bigger than I’m used to, his body heftier, bossier, mean as all hell.
I’m pliable, but not weak. Even in this state I know he’s fought for this. We both have. Fuck, it’s so good.
The way he works himself into me, slowly, inexorably, I feel taken, one slow inch after another, full of him by the time he’s in to the hilt. And then, when that’s not enough, I buck back and, goddamn, he wraps me up in his solid frame, wedging me to him with his chin on my shoulder, his toes under mine.
I’m his. I’m so definitely, solidly his, that I sigh. I just sigh and press back in search of pleasure now, not distance. My body’s giving and holding, going loose and tense and open to absolutely anything—anything—anything at all.
He hugs me tighter, pulls out and thrusts in again, hitting something high and bright inside me that scares me with its intensity. Another slick outward slide, another deep, heavy thrust. Another, another. I’m keening almost continuously, my hips working with his, my front grinding itself into the ground in search of friction. I’ve never felt so swollen and ripe, never imagined how pleasurable the rough scrub of grit could be. Against my cheek, my breasts.
As if he’s in my brain, he plucks a nipple, hard. Everything inside me contracts. Pleasure’s a spinning, strobing thrum, knotting up so tight it’s all I can think of. A need so strong I’d do anything in the world to get there. I’ve never been this wound up with a partner, never felt this close to the edge.
