4. Jason
Mandi fucking Warren.
What in the world am I going to do with her?
Young and troubled, the girl’s a mess, and I’ve got issues of my own. I don’t want to drag her down any further. She’s too young for me to corrupt with my perversions and need for control, and I don’t belong on her side of society. There’s no way my affection for her won’t be problematic for us both.
She deserves better than the likes of me, and I’m trying to stay away, but she drives me to madness. She wants my attention, and after several infuriating attempts, she’s going to sacrifice all she has to cause a scene I can’t ignore.
This time, she’s gone too far.
We’re both breathing hard. Our chests clash with each desperate gasp, crashing into each other again and again, while her stepfather, Melvin, lies subdued in a bloody heap next to us. I’ll decide how to deal with him properly once I’m done with her.
Mandi strains and struggles beneath me, but the light in her eyes tells me she doesn’t mean to escape. She knows I like her resistance, and she’s doing this on purpose, to weaken my resolve.
Naked as one should be when they’re ready to be reborn as something new, she’s committed to her plan to seduce me. She’s all in.
It’s not every day a girl will throw her life away, to bait a known criminal and obsessed stalker to dominate her. It’s ludicrous. And a damn sound plan, because I can no longer stand idly by and watch her self-destruct.
She has no love for herself, but something she feels for me has her willing to risk all she has to provoke my intervention. From what I’ve seen, she doesn’t care if she lives or dies, she’s just trying to find the right way to end her suffering.
Is that it? Does she think I’ll end it for her, one way or another?
The thought infuses me with an intoxicating kind of power, riddled with red flags on both sides, and it worries me — how far she’ll go. How far I’ll follow.
She’s put herself in jeopardy more than a few times already, but enticing her stepdad to abuse her where she knew I’d see them… That’s the last straw. She’s wildfire. Out of control. And if I don’t step in to tame her, she’ll burn us all to ash by summer’s end.
I pull back and stare down at her, pinned to the dirt under my bloody knuckles, her expression riddled with defiance.
Apparently determined to throw her life away, she forces her strangled voice past my fingers. “Do it.”
I narrow my gaze and scrub my free hand over the scruff of my beard as I low growl escapes me.
What a fucking mess.
Her stepfather gurgles a ragged breath beside us, and I thump the ground next to her head, tighten my grip on her throat, and press her to the forest floor harder.
Did she come here to die, or to feel alive? She’s too young for one of those options.
“Do what, pretty girl?” I shift my weight, to pin her arms more securely, and then wedged my denim-clad leg between her supple thighs, to spread her bare flesh wide. “Kill you or fuck you?”
Fearful of the answer she’ll give me, I make it almost impossible for her to talk.
Her voice is strained and hard to hear over the sound of the falls in the distance, but she forces it out. “Whichever feels best.”
I scowl and hold her in place with more pressure than is necessary, until her faces flushes red and her eyes bulge. Any resistance she gives is met with strength and denial. It should scare her, but it only seems to turn her on. Her pulse grows stronger beneath my fingers, and her pussy paints my jeans with her desire when her thighs grip mine.
She moves against me, and I arch an eyebrow at her, before thrusting her legs wide again. I make allowances for her to breathe, but intermittently squeeze her throat, while I trail the fingers of my other hand down the goose-fleshed landscape of her belly, to explore the extent of her arousal.
One touch and she soaks my fingers with her slippery warmth.
I utter a soft grunt and smear her slick over her clit, circling like a vulture until her body tenses with pleasure and she’s even shorter of breath.
She fights against my firm holds, chasing the pleasure I keep purposely out of reach. The way she’s whimper-gasping to pull in air is making me light-headed.
Her struggle is beautiful to watch, and I lower my head next to hers, unable to keep from smiling. I brush my lips against her ear, and every hair I have stands on end as I whisper, “Feels best for whom?”
She doesn’t answer. Only tests my strength again.
I refuse to decide for her and counter every move in a way that steers her toward making her own choices. I lace my touch with opportunity for indulgence or deprivation and make it clear she’ll have to choose between the two.
She panics. Her eyes leave mine, searching for something. She forgets her seduction plans, and her pitiful struggling efforts turn real. I watch her sure expression fill with uncertainty, giving her the appearance of being lost. Does she not trust herself when left to her own devices?
I smother her fight-or-flight reaction with my weight, and she calms instantly. Her response makes my head swim and my cock swell thicker. I want more.
I inhale deeply and moan at the scent of her filling my nostril. I slowly graze my rough jaw along her smooth cheek and linger against her soft skin for several heartbeats.
Could we sync to the same rhythm?
I lift my head to see her face, and then glance at the bloodied man next to us. “Did you think he was going to make it feel good for you, Mandi? Is that why you offered him your cunt this time?”
She looks at Melvin too, the answer clear on her face. More pain and disappointment is what she would have suffered, if I hadn’t stepped in when I had. Not pleasure. And certainly not love.
She presses her lips together when she returns her gaze to mine. No.
I rest my forehead to hers, and our noses touch in a gentle caress, as I take the lion’s share of what little air I’m supplying her with. “Then why did you tempt that scum into the woods and offer him this precious fucking body, Princess?” I pull back to look deep into her eyes. “Do you want to be hurt and used by someone who doesn’t deserve you?”
Her eyes are plead, and hope stirs within them as she tilts her pelvis, to bloom open and meet my pleasuring fingers.
I snort a quiet laugh as I stroke her. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
My jeans are already unbuttoned, and with a small adjustment, I slide my thick cock hard against her inner thigh. It weeps along her silky skin when I move, streaking her with the evidence of my desire.
I press closer to her slick heat. “I’ve seen you looking my way in town, Amanda Warren.”
Her cheeks flush and her lashes flutter at the accusation — a confession, if ever I saw one.
“You look and you tease, but you’re not brave enough to leave that bratty pack of jumped-up little shits and come to me.” I massaged her clit into a swollen bud, readying it to explode pleasure through her gorgeous body.
“Not too surprising you don’t want them to suspect your interest.” I continue winding her tighter, showing her there’s more to life than what anyone else has thought to give her. “I’m sure everyone’s warned you against me. And rightfully so.” I give her a lazy half-smile, as her body fills with restless tension beneath me. “But you’re a moth to my flame. Aren’t you, Princess?”
She utters a distracted, but agreeable, little mewling sound.
I control her body, measuring my touch, and allowing her no movement beyond grinding against me. She quickly finds the path of least resistance and follows it — can’t seem to hold herself back. She works herself into a slick mess, driven closer toward an orgasm I refuse to let her have, despite her panted little gasps making me desperate to hear her moan.
She shakes with anticipation, and flails as best she can, but I keep her teetering on the edge until our eyes meet and she silently asks what it’ll take to get what she wants.
I hold her gaze, gently squeeze the sides of her throat to constrict her blood flow, and hope with all my heart she’ll start to understand what it means to be with me.
I will challenge every destructive behavior she has and force her to own it. Praise her. Punish her. Be the fucking line she dare not cross. I will own her.
The light in her eyes flickers with need, and the second she surrenders to me, I push her over the edge.
She’s beautiful when she falls.
I lessen the pressure on her neck, finally allowing her freedom and oxygen as the powerful orgasm shudders through her. The clenching waves wrack her body and rob her of all control. Consumed, she cries out so loudly, the birds flutter from the trees in alarm.
She seizes and shakes beneath me, her movements a wildly enticing display of the energy coursing through her body. She soaks her thighs and the head of my cock with every thrashing tremor, and all I want is to push inside her, but I don’t.
“I’ve noticed you, too, of course.” I skim my lips past hers in a pitiful non-kiss, as her body settles into a twitchy puddle beneath me. “Why else would I be here when you needed me? I notice you every time you leave that pretty mansion on the lake. I noticed when you swam naked in the moonlight, while the rest of the world slept. I saw you determined to swim so far, it’d be a one-way trip. And I saw when you got scared and turned back. I saw you drag yourself up the shore, where the gritty sands coated your skin like scales while you cried. Of course I would notice when you lured your stepfather into the woods, to bait me and destroy your whole family in one fell swoop. And I definitely noticed when you realized you were in over your head.”
I lick the side of her salty cheek where Melvin struck her. Where she can’t keep her sadness from falling. “You hate your life,” I say quietly. “You hate your family. You hate that your kid sister is the favorite. You hate the clique of appearance-obsessed teen vacationistas who lay claim to the shores of Mountain Lake every summer. And you hate that you’re one of them.”
She frowns and looks ready to disagree, so I grip her throat more firmly.
“You say yes to all their stupid ideas, and you specialize in pretty smiles that make them think you’re having fun,” I say, calling out her denial. “Nobody cares that none of your smiles are real, and it kills you. You’re so lonely, you go looking for love anywhere you think you might find it.”
I stroke her juicy cunt, streak my slick fingers down her thigh, and then roughly hike her leg higher to bare her more fully. “What possessed you to come looking my way, Princess?”
She searches my face, as if she doesn’t understand the question.
I slide my fingers back and forth through her slippery folds. “I’m not meant for you, precious girl,” I growl. “I’m not for any girl from your side of town, where people walk tall and flash their shiny teeth and wallets all summer long, until they go back to their real houses or prep the chalet for ski season, or whatever the fuck you people do while I’m stealing anything you forgot to nail down before you left. Your neighbors are all doctors and lawyers and investment bankers. I squat in an abandoned cabin, take what catches my eye, fight drunks for extra cash, and eat roadkill when hunting and trapping don’t provide. A girl like you should never even imagine slumming it with me, Amanda Warren. I mean, what if you catch ugly or poor?”
I stroke her more firmly, and she meets me with pressure of her own. She seems to crave my touch, despite my lecture about why she shouldn’t be with me. The only time she looks slightly uncomfortable, is when her throat pushes into my palm as she swallows, but she doesn’t ask me to remove it.
I loosen my grip. “Exactly how old are you, little bird?”
“Eighteen,” she whispers.
I clack my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “Eighteen, and convinced you should be prey.” I tut-tut as I shake my head. “Did nobody teach you that life is fucking precious? That, no matter how hard it feels, you get up and you keep going, because too many others don’t get the fucking choice? Life is for living, Mandi. Don’t you fucking know that?”
She gives me silence, when I want answers.
“Obviously, not,” I growl, shaking her. “Why else would you bring your stepdad into my neck of the woods — where no princess should ever dare go — and try to seduce us both? You don’t even fight me off, when you can see I came to take the bait you laid out?”
I lift my hand from her throat, to let her speak, but she refuses. I wait. Watching.
Though there’s no longer any obstruction, she swallows with obvious difficulty and remains quiet.
“You’re pretty and perfect and precious,” I continue, “but here you are, spreading yourself for any wrong man’s cock. You want to be ruined. You want a monster between your legs.”
She doesn’t deny it. She’s too busy trying to coax my dick inside her cunt. I’m so close now, her heat is drawing me in. I slowly slide the broad head of my cock against her pussy, parting the lips. There’s no denying how aroused we are, and it feels incredible to be this close to a woman who wants to be this close to me.
“Why?” I demand to know. “Why do you want bad men to make you their whore?”
She tenses her jaw against my fingers, and she squeezes her eyes shut, avoiding my glare.
“Should I guess?” I renew my grip on her throat, and then mill her clit until she’s wide eyed and desperate for breath. I give her no quarter, and she refuses to ask for it.
“You’re tired,” I whisper, dragging the tip of my nose along her cheek and into her hair. “Tired of working so hard for so little recognition. They’re starving you of affection, so you came out here, begging for scraps.”
I tug at her earlobe with my teeth, and she rocks her hips hard, to press into the hand she’s soaking as I pleasured her with it. “Attention feels good,” I say with a smile. “Doesn’t it, Princess?”
It wasn’t really a question that needed an answer, but she utters a raspy yes and hooks her leg around mine, to draw me closer.
The attempt to control me is pointless. I’m stronger, and I hold my position. Keeping her wanting.
“We’re not done talking,” I inform her with a low rumble.
She tries to stare me down, and I laugh. “Quit glaring at me like these uncomfortable truths are crueler than anything else. Like holding you hostage in the forest and stroking you into a vulnerable, fuckable mess isn’t the worst thing I’m doing to you.” I lean in, crushing her with my weight before withdrawing my hand from between her legs, to deprive her of the touch she craves.
Her moans became pained, and she fights to gain more friction, her body arching into mine.
I subdue her effortlessly and make it difficult for her to pursue any pleasure. “You need to learn who’s in charge.”
She continues to exert energy to no avail, and I smirk. My cock strains against her thigh, so she knows I’m enjoying myself, and she seems eager to find my breaking point. She does all she can to entice me, but I only look down at her and raise one eyebrow.
The muscles in her jaw tense, as she grits her teeth and glares at me, before she finally gives up completely. She wilts beneath me, and I loosen my holds enough for her to take deeper breaths and take advantage of the freedom.
She remains where she is. “Do what you want, then,” she mutters.
“I will,” I assure her with a wicked smile. “But why would you let an asshole like me take control of your perfect little body? Do you hurt so much inside that you need the outside to match, so things will make sense? You think I’ll do that for you? Brutalize you?”
A shiver runs through her at the suggestion, and my cock-head swells at her entrance in response.
Do we both want to bring her pain?
Mandi makes an uninspired bid for freedom. Perhaps testing, to see if this is a game we might play.
I rise over her, and I strain against her soaked curls, ready to take her. Her slick has doused my cock, mixing with the pre-cum welling from its eye.
I’m going to shove it inside her. It’s only a matter of time.
Emotionally, she’s already mine, and the blessed privilege is overwhelming.
I hold her gaze and rock my body into hers, creating the motion of sex without penetration.
It’s a challenge — a question of whether or not she’ll follow my lead and what she’s willing to do.
She moves with me, a whore for the attention I give.
I increase my speed, my power, urging us into a rough, seductive rhythm on the damp, mossy ground.
She stays in my flow.
We move together, and no matter how stern my glare, she refuses to look away.
“I see you, Mandi Warren,” I say in a low, authoritative tone. “Everyone else sees a pretty little rich girl, whose daddies earn enough to pay for anything. But money can’t buy what you really want. Can it, Princess?” I grip her hair and tug her head back roughly enough to make her hiss.
“You don’t want their money,” I say with certainty. “You want their time.”
I twist my fist in her hair and angle her face the other way, to study her further before releasing her and stroking the back of my finger down her cheek. “They should know you’re precious and treat you accordingly. They should be on your side, to fight for you. Be your champions. Your daddy should love you as much as he loves his work, and Stepdaddy should love you as much as he does his real daughter.”
“More,” she says in a labored whisper, as we move in perfect synchronicity. Tears slip from the corners of her eyes, falling to the moss below, and I loosen my grips to allow her to speak more easily. “Not as much,” she croaks, choking back a sob. “I want them to love me more than those things.”
“More.” I nod and lean in, to sweep tears from her cheek with the tip of my tongue. “But if they did, you wouldn’t need me to do this.”
She cries out when I push inside her, and I grunt with the effort, forcing her tight little cunt to accommodate my girth.
It’s pure heaven to bury myself in her heat, but I have a responsibility to her now. Will do everything in my power to give her an experience she won’t regret.
I study her strained, yet determined expression. The way her eyes watch me with such intent, waiting for me to show her something different than what she already knows. Something better. She’s uncomfortable, but she wants it. Wants me — the sick fuck who would ravage her body and cripple her wounded soul out of morbid curiosity, in a twisted bid for his own salvation.
Her eyes hold so much trust and faith as she gazes up at me, and my fate is sealed with that one look. I had planned to make her mine, but she has already made me hers.
I was born Jason Alexander King, but I never felt worthy of my last name until this moment — balls deep in a beautiful girl, who needs every ugly fucking part of me I created to survive my trauma.
She’s putting herself in my hands, and I can’t let her down.
Whatever she needs, I’ll give it to her.
I retreat slightly, and then slam my cock back inside her, making her take it all.
“Those useless little boys didn’t break you in very well. Did they, Princess?”