Chapter 25 #2
My whimpers become moans become panted gasps as the orgasm slams into me. And, fuck it, maybe I do fall apart. He seems to enjoy me rasping out his name as my legs shake and my pussy tightens around his fingers, but when I lose my fucking mind and tell him that I need more, his face goes slack.
Only for a moment, though. Then, with a calculating look that’s only partly twisted by an animalistic passion he can’t quite contain, he moves.
With his not-so-surprising strength, Chase flips me over so that I’m on my belly. I’m so boneless, I don’t even try to stop him as he arranges me so that my jeans are down near my ankles, my body pushed up on all fours as he climbs behind me.
I shudder as his hand lands on my ass cheek. He caresses my flesh even as he bows his body over me, pressing his chest to my back.
The blunt head of his cock nudges my inner thigh. He’s not trying to insert himself, not when I told him I wouldn’t fuck him, but it wouldn’t take much for an accidental slip, he’s that close.
“Let me in.” He drops a kiss to the nape of my neck. “You’re all I want. You’re all I fucking need. Let me show you. Let me in, baby. Just say yes.”
He’ll respect my no. I one hundred percent believe that. If I tell him “enough”, he’ll help me to my feet, guide my jeans back into place, and probably take the chance to steal a kiss of his own.
But if I change my mind…
Fuck me, but I want to change my mind. I want this. I want him. I want to forget who we are, where we are, and what tomorrow might bring… and, most of all, I want to experience that connection with him one last time.
That’s what I tell myself. This is it. This momentary insanity will be over with soon, but at least I’ll have tonight to remember.
I’ll have tonight to obsess over.
I’ll have—
I lean back against him, part of me knowing that we would end up in this position from the moment I agreed to let him run me down. But, just because it was inevitable, that doesn’t mean I can’t win.
Chase wants to fuck me. He wants me to change my mind and let him in. He wants to win, too, and in a flash, I don’t see why we both can’t.
“Fine. But not the front,” I gasp. “The back. Put it in the back.”
He freezes, like he never expected I’d give in—or that I’d offer that. His fingers squeeze my hip. “Fuck me, Holden. You don’t know how tempting that is. We never… I don’t have anything to help. I can’t hurt you. And if I stuck my cock in there dry, there will be pain.”
Shit. What was I thinking? So hot for Chase, but determined to win—determined to prove that I can control myself around my twin’s lover—I figured anal was a loophole.
Fuck my ass, not my pussy, and I didn’t back down from my whole “I’m not fucking you” promise.
Plus, I can’t risk a pregnancy. You can’t get knocked-up from butt sex, but I’ve never done that before.
I don’t know if Chase has, either. But dry… yeah. That’ll hurt.
“You’re right. I… I wasn’t thinking. Maybe that’s enough. We should be going back anyway—”
For a second, he digs his fingers into my ass, the gesture telling me all I need to know about his willingness to walk away now that he has me right where he wants me.
Chase realizes that he’s clutching me an instant later. He pulls his hand back, then says, “Wait. Don’t move,” before heading to my side.
Before I can realize what he’s about to do, Chase dips his hand in the nearest pocket of Rory’s jacket that he can reach. I don’t know what he’s looking for. It’s not like I keep condoms or lube in there, and he must’ve realized that because he jerks his hand out again.
He’s on his knees next to me. I try to look over at him, but when I do, he’s already scrambling to retake his position behind me.
I hear a hiss.
What is he doing? “Chase?”
“Don’t move, baby,” he repeats. “I’ve got this.”
“What the—”
His finger slides through my folds. Not gonna lie, but I’m fucking sopping, that’s how wet I am.
Maybe… maybe that’ll be enough to get him started.
He gathers the moisture there, slicking it around my puckered asshole.
After pulling his hand away from my ass, he does it again, only with something that’s even warmer and… tacky, almost. Like, sticky.
I want to ask, but his sudden silence as he focuses on prepping me to take his cock has me gritting my teeth, waiting for him to try to breach my back entrance so he can fuck it.
Whatever he did, it’s enough to help him slide the first inch or two inside.
The stretch of my skin around the intrusion fucking burns, but not in a bad way.
It’s almost a delicious fullness, and my lust-fueled brain insists that it’s only because it’s Chase I’m allowing to fuck my ass that makes the sensation so overwhelmingly intense.
He doesn’t last long. In a way, I’m glad.
I needed that connection, he needed to come again, and as he rocks slightly, getting just enough friction going before he fills my asshole with a second load, I can’t stop myself from inwardly panicking that I’m letting Chase Knight fuck me again, no matter how he’s doing it.
On the plus side, no pregnancy scares for this chick. On the other, a tiny whisper in my brain repeats the almost frantic we never that Chase said before he figured out a way to make anal work.
I’ve never had a cock in my ass. I guess Hallie didn’t either, and now that I’ve shared this experience with her fiancé… I’m not sure what to think about it.
Once he’s finished, I’m done. Before Chase can try to convince me to do anything else with him, I scramble to my feet and hurriedly re-dress myself, all while thinking how fucking grateful I am that I’ve scavenged more than enough panties to be able to get rid of this pair as soon as possible.
Chase takes his time getting decent. Because I can’t bring myself to watch him, I look away, pausing when I catch the glint of something metal in the grass.
At first, I think it’s his lighter. Nope.
It’s too big for that, plus I remember how he put the lighter back in his pocket.
So, out of curiosity, I snag whatever it is from the ground.
My pocketknife. What the hell is my pocketknife doing in the dirt?
I blink, then glare at Chase. My pocketknife should have been was I had it: my pocket. But that was before he slipped his hand in there.
What the hell? Was he grabbing my knife before?
Why?
Feeling the weight of my stare, he jerks his head up, meeting my gaze.
Wordlessly, I show him the folded-up knife.
He shrugs and, just as quiet, he shows me the brand new gash in his arm.
There goes our newfound silence. I see the fresh cut, remember the strange warm, sticky substance he spread on my asshole before he began to fuck it, and nearly have a stroke.
“Blood? You used blood as lube?”
“It’s the apocalypse,” he tells me, almost impishly. “Gotta make do with what you have.”
Not cute, Chase. Not cute at all.
“Were you trying to attract the lurkers? Shit, Chase. Spilling blood out here is like getting cut while you’re swimming deep in the ocean. The lurkers are fucking sharks. For all we know, they’re swarming us now because they got your scent.”
He juts his chin up. “And? I’ve got my lighter. You’ve got your matches. Besides, can you tell me it wasn’t worth it? Because it was for me.”
I open my mouth. Damn it. Can I tell him that?
Baring my teeth at him instead, I slip my knife into my pocket and, purposely ignoring the slight ache in my ass, I take a few steps away from Chase knowing down to my bones that, the second I leave, he’ll be right behind me.
Again.
You know, I’m not even mad about the blood.
Not really. For Chase, it’s only ever been Hallie, then me.
I know he’s clean, or as clean as anyone can be when there’s no more testing.
Same with how I’m not really too pissed that he could’ve drawn the lurkers to us.
With my weird gut thing, I would’ve known, even over the amount of fullness and shocking pleasure I was experiencing with him inside of me.
No. My flash of sudden anger has everything to do with seeing that deep cut on Chase’s arm and knowing that he wanted to fuck me so bad, he was willing to hurt himself to be able to do so.
He’s right. If I had to, I can handle lurkers.
But Chase… what the hell am I going to do about him?
Half an hour later, Chase is curled up next to my sleeping bag, part of his body on a blanket, part of him on the edge of the bag itself.
It’s big enough that he could squeeze inside with me, and I’d put down everything I left back in the Grave that it’s taking all he has not to ask for an invitation.
Especially after what just happened between us, he’s got to think everything’s changed.
He would be wrong.
Just like I figured, now that I’m not letting my lust and need for Chase cloud my rationality, I have to admit that I fucked up big time. I know I did. I provoked him, and I seduced him. I sucked him off, and I lost my damn mind and invited him to fuck my ass—which he did. With blood.
What the hell was I thinking?
Well, that’s easy.
I wasn’t.
Funnily enough, though, I don’t actually regret doing what we did; not yet, anyway.
Ever since East Jersey, I’ve secretly wanted to be close to Chase again.
It’s like we had unfinished business, or that I didn’t want him to continue on our journey with the thought in his head that he took advantage of me.
I needed him to know that, if it was up to me, I really would choose him even without the threat of being tossed to the lurkers hanging over my head.
So that’s what I did. I offered myself to him on my own, and he eventually accepted. I showed him that—though I probably shouldn’t have—I do have feelings for him. At the very least, there’s an attraction that I can’t deny.
Still, I can’t let any of that happen again.
So I stay inside of the sleeping bag, leaving Chase to lie on top of part of it as I watch the flickering flames instead of staring at how handsome and vulnerable he is when he’s fast asleep; two orgasms and a romp through the woods definitely tuckered him out.
Me? I’m wide fucking awake because one of us has to stay up now that we’ve returned to the untouched campsite.
Someone needed to watch over the fire, and I offered to that, too.
Now I’m only hoping that Maverick is enjoying his trip through the woods with way less guilt than I am since he and Veronica still haven’t returned.
When I finally do hear the crackle of footsteps against the ground, I check my gut. No sign of a lurker, and the heavy steps sound like they belong to a human and not a ravenous monster wearing a cloak. Only one problem: it sounds like one human.
I sit up a little as a shadowy figure slips into the campsite, ready to reach for my knife and scream if I need to. I don’t. As soon as he moves closer to the firelight, I make out Maverick, and he’s alone.
Huh.
He drops down on the other side of the fire. This time, I stay where I am instead of joining him over there.
I stay up, resting on my elbows. Next to me, Chase shifts, inching closer as though he can sense my movement. He doesn’t wake up, though. I don’t want him to, either, and I keep my voice low.
“What happened to Veronica?”
Maverick shakes his head. “She moved on.”
“Really?” That’s surprising. They seemed to hit it off right away, and I would’ve bet they went off into the woods for a little privacy.
Maybe Mav changed his mind, or Veronica didn’t think danger-banging in the woods when the lurkers could appear at any moment was a brilliant idea like I did.
Even so… “I thought she was going to join us on the last leg of our journey.”
Mav snorts as he feeds some dry grass to the fire. “Yeah, kid. So did I.”