Chapter 9 Tess
TESS
That black mask with glowing pink crossed out eyes and grinning mouth makes my heart vibrate, and for a second I’m rooted to the spot.
“Run, lapochka,” he repeats, low and taunting.
I take off, my muscles exploding into motion. Immediately I’m crashing through the forest. I follow the path, but even so, the undergrowth tugs at me as I whip through it.
I have to get away. This is my chance. He doesn’t expect me to beat him, he’s given me this opportunity.
Running blindly, I just try to put as much distance between us as possible. The path curves around and back, and despite him showing me the map, quickly I’m unsure of what direction I’m headed.
The path splits and I take the left one, not pausing to think which is the correct choice.
“I’m coming for you,” his call rumbles through me, and forces me to run faster, a surge of adrenaline giving me even more speed. Then I can hear him behind me. His boots, the whip of branches that catch his bigger body.
My blood pumps, and my head goes very clear. Almost meditative, or how I imagine that might be. There’s just me and the woods, and my pursuer. Only the distance between us matters.
Not my mother and her new husband who makes his dislike of me very evident.
Not my father and his current wife who looks straight through me.
Not the work I find hard at university, since I’m not book-smart, or the fact the girls I live with are a clique who needed another person to pay rent, not a friend.
There’s a freedom in this I didn’t expect.
Ivy winds around some of the tree trunks, and the sun spills through the leaves above, making the light flicker as I run. The ground is hard beneath my feet, the grass thin from regular use and the shading of the trees.
I keep running, choosing the paths almost randomly as they fork in different directions. I take smaller paths and hope that slows up the big man who is chasing me. Birds chirp in the branches above, and a breeze caresses my thighs and ruffles my hair.
Dense trees with needles give way to towering trees with pale-green leaves and smooth bark. This would be a pretty wood to walk through and admire nature, but there’s no time for that.
My throat burns.
The initial surge of fear that drove me is wearing off, and with it comes fatigue. My legs scream at me, begging me to slow, and the path being twisty and having stones at the side nearly trips me a couple of times.
But the energy to keep running bubbles from nowhere and I don’t stop. I think I could run forever, like I’m fuelled from the crisp woodland air made by the trees.
I’m doing it. I’m keeping ahead of him.
I’ll be free, back in my old life with the grey concrete city and study then working late at the noisy pub.
But then, I can hear him behind me, heavy footed. Just like before, but this time, there’s an edge of exhilaration to the chase. I need to get away, but the fear isn’t sharp edged as it was last night.
I can do it.
He hasn’t hurt me, and this almost feels like a game. So I keep running, the forest a blur, concentrating on keeping moving, and the man chasing me.
“Little Tess,” he rasps, and he’s far closer than I expected. Right on my tail.
There’s a flash of rusty red through the trees. The brick wall he said surrounded his property. It’s not far. I can get to it. I just need to get there.
A branch snaps to the side, and I’m distracted for a second. My head has turned before I can stop the instinct.
Nothing there, and what? But what about…? I glance over my shoulder, and the glow of his neon mask is as eerie in the woodland as it was in the city streets.
He’s close.
A scream tears from my throat, and my foot slips, then snags. A root, or a stone, or something I wasn’t paying attention to as I gave into the temptation to check where the predator behind me was, sends me flying.
I shriek and throw my hands forwards to catch myself. My eyes slam shut as the forest floor whooshes up to meet me and I brace myself, legs already scrambling to get to my feet again and keep going.
But just as my fingertips touch the grass, I’m yanked back and to the side.
The man in the mask has me against his chest, and there’s a thump as his shoulder hits the ground. But I fall right on top of him, his solid torso cushioning me, and his hands at my waist. The air is knocked out of me anyway, and my head hits the top of his chest. My legs end up tangled with his.
“I’ve got you, lapochka,” he pants, nowhere near as out of breath as I am.
I’m exhausted. For a second, I give in.
But then I remember.
He hasn’t claimed a kiss. I can still win.
I throw myself into a roll to the side. The scent of the damp earth fills my nostrils. The leaves are soft beneath me and the morning light dances over my clawing fingers.
I drag myself a foot away before he realises what I’m doing. On my elbows and knees, I scrabble forwards. I’m maybe the width of a street from the wall. I have to get to my feet and run, or maybe I can reach it inch by inch.
“Oh no, you don’t,” he says hoarsely, and suddenly he’s over me, his huge body pinning me down. I keep trying to drag myself away, instinct telling me to continue fleeing, as though I could escape with his weight on me. He’s practically a tree.
I struggle and dig my fingers into the soil and the grass, fingernails grasping and desperation in my heart.
It’s almost animal-like, this fight.
He shifts, and for a second fear explodes in me as the bleak darkness and glow of his mask block everything out and I wriggle, pushing against him.
But there’s something worse there too as his big hands span my waist and hold me down effortlessly. Warm tingles down my spine.
Then his hand grips my hair, and his chest holds me down. I can’t move, and my brain stutters as I recognise that the heated bar right between the cheeks of my bottom is his cock.
Hard. Huge.
He has an erection from our chase. Liquid heat gushes between my legs and my nipples pucker. He rips his mask off with the other hand, and twists my hair so it goes tight and a shock of pleasure-pain flares over my scalp.
I let out an inarticulate cry.
My head is force around, and his face is there. Just as I remember last night. Part shadow, part highlighted. Square jaw and defined cheek bones. A nose with a kink from being broken many times, and a generous mouth, with lips hooked into a cruel smile of triumph.
Grey eyes that are almost inhuman. Wolf-like. His black eyelashes are excessively long.
He’s a machine, all stark lines, but also warm, human muscle.
His lips crash onto mine. My mouth falls open in a gasp and he takes. His tongue thrusts, and he demands my participation with a bite to my inner lip only a second later.
It’s punishing, this kiss, and god but I never ever thought it could be like this. He takes without words, and I submit, melting into letting this happen. Whatever he wants, I’ll give.
He grips my waist and glides his lips over my cheek to my ear, tickling me with his warm breath and the sandpaper of his stubble sending another shiver down my spine.
“First favour, Tess. Take it.” It’s a deep command, and I stop scrabbling.
But I’m still trembling.
And I’m hot between the legs. My breasts feel bigger than usual, the scrape of the ground on the sensitive peaks of my nipples is exquisite torture.
He makes a purring sound from deep in his throat, and in a second he’s flipped me onto my back and covered my body with his.
His shoulders are impossibly wide, and I don’t know why I find that detail so hot.
“Good girl,” he rasps.
I melt.
“You’re going to be such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”
A whimper escapes me, and all the things that could mean race through my head. All theoretical, from books. I have no experience with any of it.
“So sweet,” he says huskily, running a possessive hand down my side, before pushing in over my belly and then cupping my pussy as though he owns it. And me.
I suppose he does.
“Mmm.” He gives a satisfied sound of approval. “Your knickers are damp. Is that for me?” It’s not really a question, because he knows it is. “You’re desperate, aren’t you?”
And I am. I’m hot and achy, and his words pulse sparks through my core. But also…
“I’m a virgin,” I blurt out.
He stills.
I squeeze my eyes shut and curse inwardly as the silence stretches out.
“No one has ever breached that little wet hole, hmm?” He grips my pussy tighter, and one finger splits my seam, pressing and rubbing through my knickers before he drags his hand away.
I moan and shudder as pleasure spikes from where he touched, and I’m hollow with disappointment as he shifts back.
Then his hands land on my hips and grasp the shorts he gave me, and tugs them and the knickers down in one impatient movement. He draws them down my legs, and I don’t stop him. I don’t even protest, or cry.
He’s going to… Oh my god. Despite what I said.
Through the disbelief, there’s a shameful flame of what I can’t deny is arousal. He’ll take exactly what he wants, and my cheeks are burning because he’s absolutely glorious.
I sit up a bit, wanting to see him partly undressed. But instead of reaching for his jeans, he leans forwards and slides one hand into the gap between my knees.
Even though the mask no longer covers his face, I can’t tell what he’s thinking at all.
“Don’t worry,” he croons. “I won’t break you like that until you beg me to.”
My mouth falls open in shock, but I don’t scream.
“But I’m going to make you desperate. Needy. Spread for me, lapochka.”