“No,” he says, as he forces his cock forward.
Force is the word. And I know. He doesn’t have to explain the name Oaks as his dick practically rips me open.
“I lost a bet once, at the Oaks.” He’s talking about a horse race at the Derby. “Had to marry a woman I didn’t love,” he says as he thrusts what can only be described as a mighty oak into me.
Swallowing my cries, I can no longer respond.
Everything else fades away except the way he fills me, hot skin, warm breath, and the feel of bark scraping my back. His mouth finds mine again, slower this time but deeper, like he’s branding me with every thrust of his tongue. His hands tighten at my thighs, holding me up, holding me there, holding me exactly where he wants me as he fucks me.
He slows and moves with intent.
Not rushed.
Not careless.
Deliberate.
He’s finally all the way in. My head tips back and a sound slips out of me that I didn’t know I could make. The cool air hits the sweat on my skin and I shiver. His mouth catches it, steals it, swallows it down like he likes the proof.
“You’re mine tonight,” he growls into my ear.
My heart stutters hard as my thighs shake around him. I’m full of him, and the sensation burns into my belly in the most wonderful way.
“Say it,” he demands.
I should fight it. I should push back. I should remember he still has a wife and there’s a thousand reasons this is a terrible idea.
But my body ain’t been honest for months.
And my mouth is tired of lying.
“I’m yours.”
He exhales like that nearly undid him. Like he’s been waiting to hear it his whole damn life and didn’t even know it.
The forest hums around us, distant camp noise, wind through leaves, the faint slap of water against dock posts, but it all feels far away. There’s only this. His hands gripping my thighs. His mouth at my throat. His dick driving the point home in a rhythm that steals every coherent thought from my head.
The bark digs into my back so hard I’m probably bleeding, and I don’t care.
My fingers tangle in his hair and I pull him closer, closer, like I can’t physically stand an inch of distance between us. Like if he steps away I’ll remember every reason I shouldn’t be doing this and I don’t want to.
“You’re trouble,” he mutters against my mouth.
“I know.”
He kisses me harder, brutal and honest as he takes me exactly the way I asked. My thoughts go messy. Dirty. Hungry. I think about his cock, about his mouth, about the way he said claim like a threat, about how he looks like a man who would burn the world down if it meant keeping me.
I think about Bethany and I don’t feel guilt.
I feel satisfaction.
Because she might have his name on paper, but she never had this. Not the way his body shakes like he’s losing control. Not the way he watches my face like my reaction matters more than his pride.
And somewhere between breathless laughter and broken sounds and his grip tightening at my hips like he’s afraid I might disappear, something inside me shifts.
This ain’t just sex.
It ain’t just rebellion.
