Chapter 16 #2
I take the bait, and he holds me there. He whispers to me, not with words, but through the trees. I know what he’s going to do before he does it, and I welcome it. He raises himself forward, rips his jeans off, and climbs on top of me, his underwear pulled tight at the thighs.
My back digs deep into the pit of mud as rain hammers at my face. Thunder cracks in the distance and lightning rips through the sky. The perfect storm. I grab his briefs and tear them down the side, freeing them from half of his body.
He unbuttons my jeans and pushes them down a few inches, just low enough to free my raging hard cock.
He spits a loogie into his hand, reaches back, and takes my cock into his hand.
His fingers barely fit around the shaft as he guides me to his hole.
His free hand digs into my chest as he guides himself backward,
I let out a stifled gasp when I feel his hot hole on the head of my cock. And I let out a choked-back moan when he lowers himself onto me. He’s tight, but not too tight that this won’t work. Tight enough to feel every inch, but not so tight that he’ll take days to recover.
He sinks lower, his mouth dropping open.
I’ve seen this face before. It’s burned into the back of my brain like a priceless painting.
The way his body contorts around my cock and the way it’s written all over his devilish face.
He breaks past the barrier and the rest is smooth sailing as he buries himself to the base.
I throw my arms out to the side and dig handfuls of mud into my hands. I’m worried that if I latch onto him, I’ll take him the way I want to take him instead of letting him use me the way he wants to use me. He’s the leader now. He’s the one who is in control.
I push my head back and close my eyes, and my mind goes to other places. It goes to another timeline where I wear the crown. He’s positioned on his hands and knees, his ass arched at just the right angle. I take him from behind, railing him like he belongs to me, like I own him.
But the way he rides my cock is enough to bring me straight back to reality.
Dare I say, I might even prefer this. There’s something about the look in his half-torn eyes as he rides me to a steady rhythm amidst the chaos of the storm.
He bucks with intention, the abs on his long torso stretching with every thrust. He pumps his cock to the same constrained melody.
My bare feet kick outward, smashing into the mud.
I jut my hip upwards, signaling to him that I hunger for him. HIs body responds in kind, bucking faster. Harder. He glides to the head of my cock and then all the way back down again. Full strokes that are wilder now.
Dare I say more Wilde?
He rides me like his own personal fuckstick, and I swear I have no control when it comes to him.
My balls tighten and my heart speeds towards a heart attack as I feel the storm rising within.
I reach for the back of his neck and pull him down to my cock.
Hard. And I hold him there while I plant my seed inside him, coming and coming and coming.
I wish I were a better man. Wish I could last longer than a minute, but I’ve lived so long without him that I think it’ll take years to fuck like we used to—for hours at a time.
He begins to ride me again. Any rhythm he previously had is gone now. He’s reckless, his thrusts uneven as he pumps his swollen cock more furiously. His breathing hitches, grunts and moans pouring from his lips like the most erotic song.
He pumps himself to release, shooting hot ropes of cum onto my stomach.
I wipe the cum with my hand, smearing it with the dirt and the rain.
When I’ve collected enough of it on my palm, I wipe it vertically over my face, ending with licking it clean.
Forest comes down from release, but doesn’t move.
He’s buried to the hilt, every bit of my seed that he can while he squeezes the last droplets of cum from his pretty cockhead, pooling around the steel.
And then there’s a quiet in the space between us as the rain slows to a drizzle.
As the sun rises over Ash Cove, I stand in the front row of the crowning ceremony.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Zeva hides her emotions in the safety of her husband’s arms. I don’t feel bad for people. That’s not who I am, but Zeva has lost so much lately. The Wilds give and it takes, and sometimes it can seem to take too much.
Forest stands in front of everyone, wearing the same dirtied clothing from the events of yesterday including the ripped shirt. I find the slightest bit of amusement knowing he’s still walking around with my babies inside of him and leakage dried to the baby smooth skin of his thighs.
He’s been marked since we were young. He’s always been mine.
Camila circles behind Forest and places the wooden crown on his forehead. It’s a perfect match for the tattoo on his head. As much as I hungered to lead this place, this was always meant to be.
Forest takes a measured step forward. He punches his tongue over his lip as his eyes wander the crowd. To my trained eye, he appears more than a little lost up there. It looks like he’s thinking what the fuck did I get myself into?
But then he smiles and pumps his fist in the air.
I do the same as the entire crowd erupts, chanting, “Welcome to the new age.”