Arlo
I take a step, then another, until I’m standing in front of her.
She’s stopped moving, her eyes fixed solely on me.
The crowd parts instinctively, still swaying to the music but giving us space.
She turns her back to me, as if searching for the girls she was dancing with seconds ago.
I step closer, until my chest presses against her back. She draws in a breath.
I lower my head to the crook of her neck and inhale deeply, her perfume flooding me.
I make a mental note to buy the company that makes it.
I’ll see to it no one else ever buys it, no other woman will ever be allowed to smell this way.
She starts moving again, hips swaying, and my hand slides to her stomach.
I drag her back against me, pressing the hard line of my arousal to her arse.
My teeth graze her ear, biting lightly, and a low groan escapes before I can stop it.
Then she slips forward. I don’t see it coming. My hand falls away.
She weaves through the bodies and disappears, slipping into the trees beyond.
I follow without a thought. My boots grind over the ground. She glances over her shoulder, and quickens her pace.
I let a smirk tug at my mouth, veer off the track, and cut her off. She collides with me head on.
A startled sound breaks from her lips. Her hand flies to her chest. When she realises it’s me, her shoulders loosen.
Mistake.
There’s no one more dangerous to her in these woods than me.
“Arlo…” My name slips from her lips like she can’t help it.
I step forward. She steps back. Again, and again, until her spine meets the bark of a tree. I catch her face in my hand, tilt her chin up, force her eyes on mine.
“I just needed a moment to compose myself,” she whispers.
A smirk twists my mouth. So she is shaken. Good.
“What the hell are you wearing?” I bite out instead.
Her lips part, her breathing uneven. “A dress.”
“Too short.”
She lifts her chin. “It’s only a dress, Arlo.”
She tries to appear irritated, but the look in her eyes gives her away, need threaded through the glare.
The fury in me knots with want, raw and consuming. I shove my mask up off my face, and before reason can interfere, I’m on her, my mouth crashing into hers, my hand closing around her throat as I drag her in, closer… closer, until I’m certain she won’t ever breathe without me again.
The kiss is savage.
Possessive.
My tongue claims hers, my other hand grips her arse hard enough to mark her.
She moans into me, the sound spurring me further. She tries to murmur something, maybe a protest, but I crush it with another kiss, harsher, hungrier, until there’s nothing left but heat and need between us.
My hand slides under her dress, finding lace.
It’s in my way.
I tear the flimsy scrap from her body, shove it into my pocket, and press my face to her neck.
I breathe her in—her skin, her warmth, the taste of her when I bite and mark her.
She’s fucking intoxicating.
“What if someone sees?” she whispers.
“No one will.” My voice is hard.
And if they do, they won’t live long enough to talk about it.
My hand slips back beneath her dress, and I find nothing but heat.
Wet.
So fucking wet already.
“You’re drenched,” I rasp against her ear. “And I’ve hardly laid a hand on you.”
Her body answers for her. She trembles when my thumb finds her clit, moans louder when I push two fingers inside.
Her hips jerk against my hand, desperate. The sound tears at my control, my cock strains against my jeans, ready to split them open.
I pull my fingers free, chest heaving, then fist her hair and drag her head back, breaking the kiss.
My hoodie comes off in one move, and I toss it down at our feet. My grip tightens in her hair as I lean in, my mouth brushing her ear.
“On. Your. Knees.”
Her eyes widen, hesitation flickering.
It grates.
I press her down until she kneels on the fabric. She looks up at me, defiance and desire burning in her eyes.
“Take it out,” I tell her.
Her hands fumble with my belt, then the zip, until I’m freed, straining and heavy.
Her lips part, her tongue flicking across them, an unconscious gesture that makes my breath catch.
She leans forward, tentative at first, the slow stroke of her tongue along my length maddening.
She toys with me, drawing out every second, taking her time. Precum leaks from me, and I nearly lose it before we’ve even begun.
Then she lets go, her mouth slipping away. She tilts her face up, eyes wide, lips parted.
“I don’t think I know how,” she whispers.
A cruel laugh escapes me. “Oh, but you do. Muscle memory, Ophelia.” I seize her mouth in a hard kiss, tasting myself already on her lips, before breaking away and straightening.
Her tongue flicks over me, teasing, before she takes me in, inch by inch, deeper, until her lips are stretched tight around me.
The sight alone is enough to undo me.
Even here, in the middle of the damned forest, she looks like a goddess, her hair dishevelled, my cock between her lips.
She gags once and I relish it. My hand fists in her hair, and I drive into her mouth, fucking it until my eyes shut, a groan torn from my chest as I fight not to spill too soon.
Tears streak down her face, her makeup ruined, and it makes her all the more devastating.
Her hand slips beneath her dress. She’s touching herself, she enjoys it, filthy and rough, just as she always has.
I know.
I know her body better than I know my own.
“That’s it,” I rasp, the words fractured. “You take me so fucking well.”
Control shreds, heat rips through me. With a broken grunt I spill, the command rough in my throat. “Swallow it. All of it.”
And she does. Every last drop.
She lets me slip free with a pop, wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.
The sight alone undoes me.
I catch her wrist and haul her up, her chest slamming against mine. My mouth claims hers, and the taste, her… me, both of us tangled, burns on my tongue.
My lips trail down her throat as I tug her dress off her shoulders, freeing her breasts.
No bra.
My mouth closes over one, tongue circling the hardened peak before I scrape it lightly with my teeth.
She moans, her fingers clutching at me, and I ravage her as her head tips back.
I spin her so her spine hits the tree and drop to my knees. One leg hooked over my shoulder, I spread her open and bury my face between her thighs.
I lick, bite, suck her clit until she shudders, breaking apart on my tongue.
Her leg slips from my shoulder as I stand, her knees trembling, barely holding her upright.
I fish a condom from my pocket, tear it open, roll it on, then grip her waist and haul her clean off the ground. One hard thrust drives me into her, buried to the hilt.
I fuck her slow at first, sliding in and out, savouring the way she clenches around me, then harder, rougher, until she’s bouncing against me, legs locked tight around my waist, her breasts brushing my mouth.
I take a nipple between my lips, biting down, and her moan rips through the night, muffled as she buries her face in my neck.
Her teeth sink into my skin and the pain only snaps what little control I had left.
“Come,” I grit. “Fucking come for me.”
She shatters around me, trembling in my hold, and I follow with a guttural release, spilling into the heat of her.
For a long moment I stay buried, unmoving, keeping her tight against me.
I ease back, drawing free, watching every inch slip away. For a long second we simply breathe against one another in the dark, the music a distant thrum through the trees.
Slowly I set her down, strip the condom off and knot it, then pull my trousers back into place. I settle the mask over my face once more and watch as she fusses with the hem of her dress.
She sticks her hand out at me, palm up. I lift a brow. She lets out a short, irritated breath.
“Panties?” she asks.
“No,” I say simply.
“I can’t walk without—” she begins, flustered.
“You can. And you will.” My voice is final.
Because I am an arsehole, and because I need to convince myself this was nothing but meaningless sex, I add, “We’re done for tonight. Get the hell back to your room.”
She watches me for a long moment. Flickers of emotion cross her face, but just as quickly she shutters them away, her expression settling into something cool and unreadable.
Something twists in my chest, but I force it down, deep where it belongs.
Without another word, without even looking at me, she says, “Thanks for your service,” then turns and walks off into the dark.
I stand there, watching her go. When she’s far enough ahead, I follow.
I trail her back to the dorm building. She slips inside. I pause outside, pull up the feed to her sitting room. On the screen she closes the door, toes off her shoes, disappears from view.
I kill the stream.
She’s safe inside.
And still I stand there.
And still the question gnaws.
Why do I care?
Why do I keep breaking my own rules?
Most of all…
Why can’t I get her out of my system?