Page 49 of Pleasure & Prey: Vol. 2

Somehow, even with his fingers in my pussy, he’s still able to hold me down. Even when I writhe and twist and beg for him to give me a second, that it’s too much, he just doubles down, I swear. His movements push me into the bed, hard, until I’m breathless from how good it feels as the too-much, too-fast sensation drags me toward the edge of my sanity.

My orgasm hits me so hard and so suddenly, that I really do scream. The sound morphs into a wail somewhere in the middle, but with my thighs held down and spread open, all I can do is clench around his tongue and keen while his tongue plunges into me, his nose rubbing my clit enough for it to send matching sparks of sensation through my body.

Jed makes good on his word. He doesn’t stop as I come, his tongue and fingers dragging out my orgasm for longer than I could ever imagine. He’s not quiet, either, with his sounds of appreciation and the wet sounds of his mouth being both a turn on and humiliating as he eats me out.

I nearly scream again when he goes back for my clit once my orgasm is starting to fade, but his mouth sucking and tugging on the sensitive bud has my eyes screwed shut, my head thrown back. I’m sure I’m about to black out and never wake up again.

“Saylor,” I hear him growl, and it’s enough for me to open my eyes in time to see him wipe his arm across his soaking wet face. He watches my every movement, tongue flicking out to lick his lips. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but it’s clear the universe made you for me.” He lunges forward, quick as a viper, to crush his lips to mine again, and this time I can taste my release on his lips while his fingers grip my thighs, yanking them wider apart.

“Are you going to⁠—”

“I’m going to fuck you until you can’t see straight,” he growls against my throat.

All I can do at that is laugh, tiredly. “I already can’t see straight.”

“Then I’ll fuck you until you can’t see at all.” He plunges into me hard enough that I cry out, and my fingers find his shoulders, nails sinking into his skin. “That’s right,” he encourages, fucking into me immediately with no mercy. Not that I’ve asked for any, or intend to. “Hold me just like that. Make me bleed, princess. Mark me as yours.” His encouragements never stop, though sometimes he falls back into reminding me how good I taste while he fucks me into oblivion.

“I’m going to come in your sweet, tight pussy,” he informs me in a low, growling pant. “You know how much I love it when you’re full and dripping.”

“I know,” I gasp, one of my hands curling in his hair as I match his grin with my own. “Don’t you know how much I love it, too?”

His eyes widen, and his movements falter for only a second, before he picks up his pace with a snarl; it’s like my words have spurred something deeper in him to action. It takes only another minute or so for him to come, and somehow he drags another orgasm out of me as well, just as he slams into me and comes, face buried in my throat.

“Don’t worry about getting up.” Jed laughs, when I start to shift and release my death grip on his shoulders. “I’ve got you, Saylor. I’m not letting you go anywhere, I promise.”

23

When I’m the first one awake, I can’t help but be surprised. Jed snores the entire time I get dressed, though I can’t stop myself from glancing back in his direction every once in a while to make sure he’s actually sleeping, and not just faking it.

But he isn’t. Clearly last night tired him out more than I would’ve thought possible, and I have to admit to myself that seeing him while he sleeps is…nice. He looks sweet. Cute, with his eyelashes brushing his cheekbones and his face smoothed out in absolute innocence.

It makes sense how he gets away with so much, when he has a perfectly innocent, believable face whenever he wants to use it.

Silently, I grin, shaking my head before pulling on my light hoodie from the night before. I have no intention of really going anywhere, but while he’s sleeping is a perfect time to take my camera and go outside around the cabin to see what I can find to take pictures of.

If I’m not always looking, my thoughts wander into less productive avenues. And god, I hate less productive avenues of thought. Especially with three missed calls and two voice mails from Brenda on my phone. I’d checked one of them last night, just to make sure Dad is okay, and when I realized it was mostly her bitching me out for my rudeness, I’d shaken my head and put my phone on silent.

I don’t regret it, though I know I probably will in a few more hours or days. She always finds a way to make me regret ignoring her calls, no matter how much I want nothing to do with her. But that’s less than important right now. And I won’t let her ruin my day, when it’s off to a really great start. Though, maybe that’s just my body talking and how absolutely satisfied I am by how Jed had worked me over multiple times during the night.

Dinner hadn’t been bad either. I’m glad I stalked Wren to his work, and as I pad down the stairs to look for my shoes, I give myself a small pat on the back for not chickening out, like I almost had. Six times.

“Good for you, Saylor,” I mutter, pulling on my sneakers. My next step is the door, and I open it wide only for the foggy expanse of the forest to greet me heartily; pushing itself against me like a cloud trying to seek escape from itself.

Sure, the fog isn’t perfect for most kinds of photography, but I really like the weird stuff. And around here, there’s a ton of weird stuff to take eerie pictures of.

With one last look up toward the loft to make sure Jed isn’t up yet, I give a quick grin and then head outside, camera in hand and ready.

Warming up is essential, if a little bit boring. So I find small things, like stones or flowers in his landscaping, to snap a photo of before viewing it and messing with the settings on my camera. The fog makes things different, though not quite difficult, and I spend a good twenty minutes just playing with my settings until I feel better about moving onto the things I’d rather focus on.

Which, admittedly, probably aren’t that interesting to most people. Most of my following shots are of trees, or the spaces between them. I almost want to walk in the fog to the bridge where I’d first kissed Jed, a thought that makes my toes curl in my sneakers, but I don’t want to be gone that long.

Especially since I definitely remember him saying something about homemade French toast last night, between two episodes of him pinning me down and making me see stars. Yeah, I definitely don’t want to miss out on French toast.

Instead, my steps take me wandering around the side of the cabin, and I take a few random photos of items or landscaping that pique my interest for all of a few seconds. It’s not so much that things have to be super interesting for me to care. But this is my hobby, and I love having the opportunity to practice in the fog.

But when the slaughter shed comes into view, barely visible even though it’s only about ten feet in front of me, I know that I’ve hit photography gold. The way the shed sits tucked between the trees is perfect. Especially now, with the trees cradling it on either side, while wisps of fog barely curl around the dilapidated boards. I don’t have the guts to open it, nor would I particularly want to see body parts in my photos. I’m not that kind of photographer, and I worry that would infringe on snuff film territory. Especially if I were to print them. Snuff photography, maybe? Perhaps it would be a new subgenre.

Still, though, not one I’m willing to be known for. I walk all around the shed, my footsteps silent on the grass, and take as many outside pictures of the creepy building as I can without moving close enough for the smell to creep up on me. I know one whiff of it will make me vomit, and I don’t think Jed would find that very attractive if I were to come back inside heaving my guts out just in time for breakfast.