Sirena
The world feels different now.
Quieter. Hotter. Like the forest itself is holding its breath with me.
His shadow moves before I see him — that familiar shape, all hunger and control.
His mask glints in the half-light, bone-white and terrible, and still my body answers like it’s known him forever.
I feel even more bare now that he’s removed my mask, despite my breasts being on display and my legs splayed open, skirt flipped up over my stomach.
His tongue finds my center, and I see stars. Every thought splinters. My body completely takes over. The part of me that should say no has already gone quiet, drowned out by the pulse between my legs and the ache that’s been building since the festival.
I don’t know what this is — insanity, madness, lust, fate, — only that it’s been waiting for us.
He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t have to. His silence is its own command. When he finally touches me again, it’s not gentle; it’s worship disguised as hunger.
He licks and sucks and nibbles at my clit while he slips one finger inside, followed immediately by a second. His hands are so big, and the pain of him stretching my pussy feels delicious. I can feel myself tumbling towards the edge of orgasm.
The forest hums. My breath comes ragged. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know this moment will ruin me for anyone else — and I don’t care.
He removes his fingers again and raises his head, and I hear myself whimpering at the loss.
I can see my arousal in his beard, he leans forward, and his mask presses cool against my cheek, I can smell myself on his breath.
I still can’t fully see his eyes, but I feel them — everywhere his hands go, everywhere I want them to.
He flips me over onto my knees, hands still tied behind my back.
His hand finds the center of my back between my shoulder blades as he pushes my face down, giving himself the perfect angle of my ass.
Before I know what is happening, his cock fills me again, and the sound of his balls smacking against my pussy as he slams repeatedly into me is the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.
Time loses shape. There is only skin and sound, the pulse of want, the rough bark from the tree roots beneath my cheek, and the heat of his body against mine.
He slams my pussy again and again in blissful ecstasy, and I am so close to the edge.
He then slips one finger into my asshole, and I come undone completely.
A scream escapes me as my pussy pulses around his cock, and I swear the entire town just heard me come.
The pleasure I feel is immeasurable, I’ve never felt something like this.
The orgasm rips through me, making my entire body shake.
It’s then that I feel his cock pulsing inside me, and I can feel his come filling me and spilling out of my pussy.
When it’s over — when I can finally breathe again — I don’t pull away. I don’t even open my eyes. I just listen to the way he breathes, ragged and low, as if he’s been holding it for years.
“Who are you?” I whisper into the dark. No answer. Only the brush of his thumb along the nape of my neck — a promise, not a reply. The night presses close again.
I know this isn’t the end. It’s only the beginning.
****
The Wolf
I should leave her. Walk away while I still can.
Instead. I make the conscious choice to stay — hovering in the space between restraint and need, watching the way her body trembles in the aftermath. The sound she made still echoes through me, a raw, shattering thing that stripped away everything I thought I could control.
I remove myself from her pussy, zip up my pants, and return my attention to the perfect specimen beneath me that just took my cock so well.
My hands trace lightly up her spine; I can see the goose bumps left in the wake of my touch.
She is so beautiful, slick with sweat, the scent of her arousal everywhere around me.
She’s more beautiful than I ever let myself imagine. The moonlight paints her in silver and shadow, and for the first time, I feel something close to fear. Not of her — of what I’ve done. Of how much I want her still. Of what she will think when she realizes who I am.
The inner war in my brain between revealing myself to her now and waiting to prolong this night just in case she can’t handle finding out who I really am.
Every instinct screams to pull her back, to take her again and again until there’s nothing left between us but breath and heartbeat.
But I promised myself I wouldn’t lose her to the hunger. Not yet.
She stirs, eyes still half-lidded, and looks back up at me through the hooded eyes, and in that moment, I know she knows. Not my name. But me.
My hands grip her waist, and I flip her back over onto her back, tracing kisses up her thighs, across her stomach, feather light against her breasts, watching her nipples form into stiff peaks again. She closes her eyes, and I watch as she exhales a breath of contentment.
I pull back before I give myself away. The forest watches as I fade into the dark, breathless and shaking, her scent clinging to my hands, my body, and my cock like sin.
She’ll follow. She always does. Next time, I won’t stop.