Chapter 24 Into the Woods #2
“Mitchell, are you okay?” I tried to turn around and look.
But winded or not, he held strong, not letting me move.
Before I knew what was happening, he’d rolled us around once more, somehow maneuvering me so we faced each other.
This time, when we stopped, he was on top.
I was stuck under him, looking up, breathing in deep, scraping pants.
I was caught.
Mitchell planted his arms on either side of me, easily holding me down with the bulk of his huge upper body. I kicked and squirmed, but there was no moving. It wasn’t even a glimmer of a possibility. My heart was a live object, slamming around inside of me. I was well and truly stuck.
“Got you, little bunny,” Mitchell growled, his breathing still tight.
In the bright light, I could see everything. Mitchell’s set jaw, the sweat at his temple. His expression was almost pained.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Never better, Firecracker.” He leaned down, kissing me almost brutally, my lips crushed against his, his tongue not coaxing but demanding as it flicked up between my lips.
I gushed—like, literally gushed between my legs.
Mitchell broke the kiss. “You’re making a mistake being worried about me, though.”
“Why’s that?” I squeaked out. My pussy throbbed. I wrapped my legs around him, gliding them down his calves and lifting my center up against him like a wanton sex fiend. I didn’t even have the wherewithal to be embarrassed.
But Mitchell wouldn’t be softened. He rolled us around so we were in the shadow of the fountain. Then he grasped my hips, flipping me over in one smooth movement.
He was so strong. So completely in control. Heat scored the inside of every nerve ending.
“This is your last chance to tell me you want it some other way.” Mitchell’s voice was menacing. His hardness pressed against my ass. An edge of fear slipped across me. But it was exactly what I wanted.
I had never been more turned on.
“It sounds like you’re worried,” I gritted out.
Mitchell snarled, his breath in my ear. “So fucking sassy.”
He was suddenly up, tugging my jeans and underwear down, then hiking my hips up so I was bared to the cool night air.
I tried to wriggle free. I wasn’t going to make this easy for him.
But my movements only emphasized how exposed I was.
“So wet for me, little bunny,” Mitchell said. His voice was strained. “You liked being chased, didn’t you? Knowing what would happen when you got caught?”
I tried to speak, bucking under his grasp, but the hand on my back slid up my bare skin. He was doing what Wyn had loved in the book. I’d loved what Wyn loved in the book, never imagining it could play out in real life.
“I think you wanted to get caught,” he said. “Knowing you’d get punished.”
“What are you going to do?” I whimpered.
“I’m going to give you what a little slut like you deserves.”
I moaned so desperately and loudly that I should have been embarrassed. But I was too consumed with need. I ached for him.
“I’m going to fill this pretty pussy up.” A faint crinkling sounded behind me. “Fuck you so hard you can’t speak.”
I braced myself for what I knew was coming. A moment later, I felt contact. But to my surprise, it wasn’t a thrust that came next. It was Mitchell’s tongue, hot and wet, lashing across my wet slit.
I cried out, bucking under him.
“More delicious than I imagined.” That was Mitchell now, his voice almost reverent, his breath hot on my cool skin and wet, exposed opening.
His tongue dove into me, dipping right into my entrance.
He curled it in and out, fucking me with his tongue.
My body clenched around him, my upper half still pinned down.
I cried out at the sensation, and the shocking intimacy of the act.
It felt so, so good. I pushed backward, desperate for him to continue, needing more, more, more.
But he pulled out of me, and I cried out, bereft. Only to feel his lips and teeth gently capture my clit, his tongue pressing my most sensitive spot. I screamed. The pleasure was so intense it almost hurt. “Mitchell, fuck.”
He flicked his tongue, making a wave of pure electric pressure rush toward me. I’d never been quick to come. Never. Not even with myself. But Mitchell was about to tumble me over the edge in seconds.
But he abruptly stopped, giving my pussy a gentle slap. “Not yet.” He straightened up, notching his cock at my slit. I could feel the hot pressure of his head teasing me, the tip nearly enveloped in my heat.
I nearly gagged from the intensity of the sensations.
“Last chance, Winona.” Mitchell’s hands wrapped around my hips. He was still making sure this was how I wanted our first time together.
I never would have dreamed it could be like this.
I wanted it all the way. Full stop. “Fucking do it,” I grunted, my voice primal. “Or are you chickening out? Do you—”
He cut me off with one thunderous, punishing thrust.
His thickness was unexpected. I stretched this close to painfully around him as he rammed full-tilt inside of me.
Pleasure so exquisite ripped through me, the sound choking to silence in my throat as I tried to breathe through it.
Mitchell’s hand slid over the back of my head, grasping my hair and tugging my face back.
“That’s right,” he growled as his other hand held me in place.
He withdrew and slammed into me once more.
“Take this cock like the good little slut you are.”
Those were Vyke’s words. I’d made myself come to them countless times before, always wondering afterward why degradation did it for me.
But as Mitchell slammed into me, delicious dirty words spilling from his lips, I finally understood.
This was the unraveling of the stitching I used to hold myself so tight together.
A final relinquishment of my iron grip on myself.
And Mitchell knew. He checked in, got my okay, but never backed down. He did exactly what I needed, and felt me respond in kind.
“Say it again,” I said, my throat constricted from the angle of my head tipped back, the relentless thrusting of Mitchell’s cock inside of me.
He felt enormous, like a rutting monster.
I felt like I was dying somehow; some part of me falling away to become more raw and vulnerable than I’d ever been.
I lost that weak, feeble part of me as I screamed. “Again!”
“My little slut’s pussy is so fucking greedy for this cock,” Mitchell ground out. Was he restraining himself? “I think you want to be my plaything, don’t you, little bunny? Mine to fuck when I need to come? However I want?”
“Yes,” I cried. I was going to come.
I think he knew, because he drew me up, settling back on his haunches, taking me with him.
His hand held my throat, tipping my face up.
He rocked as he spoke, his cock’s movements languid inside of me.
“I’m taking what I need this time, Winona,” Mitchell breathed in my ear.
“I’m going to come inside you, and you’re going to take it.
But this is the last time like this tonight. Okay?”
“You won’t fuck me again?”
“Oh, I’ll fuck you,” he said. “But not until I make you come so many times you can’t speak. Are we clear?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me you won’t come right now.”
“I’ll try.”
“Not good enough.”
“Please,” I begged.
He folded me back down to my hands and knees, thrusting into me once more.
I felt giddy, like he couldn’t win this one. I reached down to touch myself, but Mitchell grabbed my arm, pinning it gently behind my hips.
A sting exploded across my ass as his other hand made contact. “Try it again, and you’ll get another one.”
Okay, so I wasn't winning. But I think this was better. “Let me come,” I said, bratty and desperate.
Mitchell slapped my ass again, harder this time. I squeezed around him, and this time he cried out.
“Fuck,” Mitchell moaned, his voice a rumble of almost pain.
He gripped both my hips, locking me hard against him. So hard, it was like something physical was stopping us from separating.
“I’m coming, Winona.” Mitchell tensed hard against me, an animal-sounding moan coming out of him.
I loved how he made noise. How he had to tell me. I ate it up like candy dropped on my tongue.
His cock swelled inside me as it emptied into the condom. How badly I wished that sheath of latex wasn’t there. I wanted him to fill me up. I wanted to gush with his cum, to feel his seed slick around my opening, knowing he’d marked his spot.
Mitchell sat up again, pulling me back against him. He stroked my hair, burying his face in my neck. His breath was a hard pant. But in each exhale, I could hear the syllables. I could feel them with the pulse of our twinned heartbeats.
He was whispering my name. “Are you okay, Winona?” he asked. “Was it too much?”
“You gave me exactly what I wanted, Mitchell,” I said. And he did. By giving me the illusion that I was out of control, he’d actually given all of it to me.
I melted into him, feeling so good. So taken care of. I found the soft cushion of heaven in his hard, strong arms.
Mitchell, as it turned out, appeared to be everything I never knew I needed.
And that thought was the first thing tonight that truly scared me.