Chapter 52
When Stone pushes me down, with my face on the branch, it hurts.
The rough bark is abrading my skin. I smell the dankness of the forest. It’s eerily quiet.
I can hear the water running somewhere, and my heartbeat thundering beneath my ribs.
My earlier orgasm still courses through me.
He’s the only man I’ve ever come that hard with.
Even when he ate me out during my tattoo, there was something cool and controlled about him, but I feel his lack of control now.
The chaos of all that’s happened since I got in Kingsley’s jeep.
That I’m here, my legs wide, my body covered in scratches and bruises.
Stone just fucked me with his knife, and I want more.
He didn’t treat me like Reed, who made it seem like it was a privilege to be with him, or the other two men I was with before.
A blip in the grand scheme of things. No, being with him is raw and elemental.
Full of sounds and sensations. The soil is cold, sticks and rocks dig into my kneecaps, and when he pushes two fingers inside me without pause, I curse.
I feel it all, the burn mixed with the pleasure.
I moan long and loud, bending my back more, pushing my ass toward him, letting him finger me roughly.
I want to experience this. His aggression.
It’s painful, but there’s a thread of pleasure that I chase, clawing to find it, trying to catch my mind up to my body.
My whole body is attuned to his fingers moving in and out of me.
I can’t see him, but when he removes his fingers and spits, I hear it. I feel his fingers return, and he moves them back and forth, adding his slippery saliva. He curls his fingers, and I helplessly moan, moving my hips back into his hand. “Good girl. Fuck my fingers.”
He grabs my braid, pulling me back, and I like it.
I like the helpless way I feel under his control.
I hated it the night Reed grabbed me- but now I like it.
With him, I like it. He doesn’t treat me like fragile porcelain.
I don’t recognize myself. I don’t recognize this woman, who doesn’t give a shit that he all but admitted to killing men, their corpses no more than ten feet away.
The smell is still there, but my senses are too consumed with him.
So I do, I curve my back more, and thrust back, meeting the hard push of his fingers in and out of me. “Look at you.”
Distracted by the way his fingers feel, I bite my lip, refusing to answer.
“Don’t be shy now. You came out here, followed me. Stalked me. You wanted to get fucked like a dirty slut. I wonder what people would say if they knew how prettily you beg for a criminal’s cock.”
“I hate you,” I moan, his degradation is making me wetter.
Wet fingers dig into my ass, and the feel of his wet mouth in a place that no one has ever touched makes me rear up.
“Fuck!” I curse. His fingers go back inside me, and the combination of his fingers and his tongue laps and tunnels in my ass is beyond comprehension.
“Good. You hating me is what I want. Hate me for a long time, Countess, because after today. I’m going to do what I want to you when I want. You forfeited the right to say no. He pulls his fingers out of me, and the notch of his
“Condom,” I mewl.
He laughs, that guttural chuckle pissing me off. “Too fucking late, Countess. I’m not stopping. You were reckless coming in here and now I’m going to wreck your pussy.”
As he says it, I feel him notch his cock at my entrance, but that’s not what whirls through my mind. It’s the feeling of something hard, cold.
I suck in a breath when he pushes forward. “What is that?”
“Jewelry,” Stone rasps.
“You’re pierced? Holy shit!” Disbelief coats my words.
I can’t fathom what it will feel like to fuck him.
I moan when he presses forward, pushing inside me before retreating back out.
The stretch burns. Despite climaxing earlier, it fucking hurts.
I cry out when he pulls out and goes back in, deeper this time.
I can’t catch my breath. The piercings on his dick feel like they are everywhere.
Something ribbed rubs along my walls. I groan at the indescribable feeling.
He slams inside me, the fullness is beyond anything I have ever felt.
His hand tightens in my hair, and his grip on my waist is punishing.
“You’re holding me too tight.”
He slaps my ass hard, and I scream, rearing up. “I’m not holding you tight enough, Countess. I should gag you for your bratty behavior.”
Before he puts his cock back inside. Reaches around and grips my nipples, pinching. His blunt fingers slide over my clit as he grunts behind me.
He rubs my clit, flicking it steadily, purposely. “And from how wet you are, you don’t want to say no. You love this.”
He’s right. I am so wet that the slow slide of his pierced dick inside me feels so wrong.
I’m fucking a man I’ve wanted for a long time.
A man whom my brother and sister-in-law have all but warned me away from.
A man whom my father would hate. A man who is a criminal.
A man 20 years my senior. None of that matters one damn bit.
I want to be wrecked by him while he’s deep inside me.
The feel of him is beyond anything I’ve felt before.
The thickness. The strange ribbed feeling of his piercings.
I want to see them, but my sight is hampered.
I can only feel. I brace my cheek on the tree trunk and moan when he slows his stroke, fucking me leisurely.
He groans, slapping my ass, gripping handfuls. He sounds animalistic behind me. Deep groans rumble from his chest. And I like that I’m making him feel good. He pushes my back down further, and I feel his piercings more. They feel amazing.
“I can’t get deep enough, Countess. Your cunt taking me so well.”
I moan, listening to his dirty mouth. I’ve never had sex like this. It’s not even the novelty of it being outside, no, it’s him. He’s not treating me like a princess. He’s treating me like a woman.
My knees dig into the cold, damp ground as he thrusts harder. The rough bark scratches my cheek, and he slams his hips against mine. I open my legs wider and I feel his piercing abrading my clit and I groan. It feels so damn good.
Not being able to see him, my eyes still covered.
“Please. “I can’t take any more, Stone. I want to come.”
“No.”
Suddenly, I’m angry with him. “Then fuck me like you mean it, or get away from me.”
“There’s my brat. You want to come, Countess? Fine, then you’ll come, you’ll come over and over until you beg me to stop.”
He fucks me harder and I beg for more, my body anticipating, craving each thrust. The drag of his dick back and forth burns most deliciously. I push my head into the log, not giving a fuck about anything except what I’m feeling deep inside my pussy.
“More. More. Harder. Please. Make it—”
“Make it what, Countess? Tell me what you want.”
“Hurt. Make it hurt, Stone.”
He yanks on my braid so hard my back dips, my neck bows back.
His body rests on top of mine, and this time, there is no panic.
This time, there is just acceptance; my body isn’t mine anymore.
It belongs to him. His hot breath fans my ears.
“Always full of surprises, Countess.” Another piston of his hips, and somehow his dick goes even deeper.
“Begging like a bitch in heat for pain.” His piercings are hitting a part of my body I didn’t know existed.
“Yes. Yes!” Each chant earns a stroke.
“Anything you want, Countess.” Stone ruts into me harder, faster, my brain implodes, all my thoughts focused between my legs, at the center of the most intense pleasure I’ve ever felt.
The pleasure is blinding, almost too much to bear.
Now I’m screaming. He pulls me even closer, yanking me back onto his cock, and I like it.
I like the pain in my scalp, the deep penetration inside me.
Still coming down from another painful climax, he pulls out of me, and I feel his penis rubbing back and forth, dragging his jewelry, as he smears my wetness all over my ass.
I wish I could see his dick moving across the globes of my ass.
It’s obscene and I like it. He pushes one finger inside my swollen pussy, and I moan, the lingering effects of my climax pulsing inside me.
Another finger slides inside my wetness. When a third spear inside me, I tense.
“What’s the matter?” He says it casually, and I turn my head.
“I just came.”
“So?”
“I–”
A fourth finger, his pink is now inside me, and I bite my lip, because holy shit, what is happening. It’s starting to feel good. Is he going to push his entire hand inside me? I’ve heard about fisting, and I never thought it would happen to me.
“Speak, Camryn. I want to hear every thought in your head.”
“Are you going to fist me?” I blurt and rock my hips from side to side, testing the pain.
“Do you want me to?” He asks it gruffly.
“I don’t know.”
“You think your pussy can handle my hand, Countess?”
I want to tell him I can handle everything, but today feels otherworldly. In the span of minutes, I’ve done more with this man than I have in my entire sexual history.
“No answer?”
“I don’t kn–,” I cry out when he curls those four fingers and his thumb massages my outer lips, dipping inside just briefly. The threat is there, and the stretch of his four fingers is already overwhelming. “Oh god,”
He chuckles as he slowly slides his fingers out. “Seems like you could, and I think you will, but not yet.”
The next moment, his dick is back inside me, and I blink in disbelief. He’s still so hard. Did he orgasm? “You didn’t come?”
He doesn’t stop moving to and fro. “Does that worry you, Countess?”