17. Jace
SEVENTEEN
JACE
Fuck me, isn’t she the prettiest little meal.
Ripe and feral, her chest heaving. And we haven’t even begun yet.
She’s perfect.
If she were anyone else, I’d already be inside her. Others never put up such a solid effort. With them, it was all about the endgame. With Payton, though, I crave it all. I’ll keep her here all night until we’re satisfied, and if we never reach that point… Well, then I guess she’s mine for good.
She has no idea what she’s doing to me as she stands stuck to the tree, thanks to the switchblade stabbed into her bra. Her ass is round, and I can’t wait to get my hands on her. Her thighs are nice and thick, rubbing against one another every few seconds as the anticipation builds within my terse silence.
As much as I long to bury myself inside her, I’ll be damned if I don’t get the Easter treat I’ve dreamed of for years.
I step close, trailing a finger down her spine, pleased when she shivers and arches. The bark will be rough on her skin, claiming their own bites like the ones I plan on decorating her with. I can’t be gentle with her, but I won’t hurt her. Nothing more than my girl can take, anyway.
When the rest of town attends church for Easter service tomorrow morning, I’ll be recalling this moment. When I drop to my knees behind her and grasp her thighs, it solidifies this moment into my memory forever. My fingers dig into her flesh, my own personal altar I’ll be praying to all night long until I’m filled with repentance. Her, my deity, the only one who’ll own my loyalty.
I nudge her legs apart and tilt her hips, forcing her breasts against the tree. She makes a surprised noise, but utters no safe word, so I lean forwards and scrape my chin against her core, my day’s scruff pulling forth a gasp.
“You make the best noises.” My throat burns from trying to deepen my voice so she doesn’t recognize me, but thankfully, I don’t plan on speaking much more. “Cry for me,” I add seconds before I feast .
My tongue swipes over her once before shoving as deep inside her as I can while my thumbs keep her spread. This second of tenderness is all I grant before hoisting one leg up and to the side, opening her wider.
She staggers slightly, the bra around her forearms keeping her upright. My teeth scrape over her clit, and she lurches against her restraints. I bite down, just hard enough to earn another breathy gasp.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” she cries.
“Jesus forsakes people like you and me. He views this as a sin, whereas I can imagine no better place to pray to.”
She moans, and I alternate between fucking her with my tongue and nipping her clit, her pussy, her thighs. The sight of my claiming bites unleashes a depraved side of me, and I sink my teeth in, leaving subtle indents no other fucker will ever be close enough to see. There’s a sick thrill in knowing tonight will end with her marked by me .
I lean my face forwards to nip her clit again before petting her with my tongue, my hands massaging her ass as I rock her atop my face. She’s between pleasure and pain, for every breathy moan is matched by a gasp when I peck. She struggles against her binds, pulling on the blade stabbed deep into the wood. As her orgasm approaches, her body alternates between arching into my mouth and trying to escape my hold, the pressure and high climbing within her. She’s going to come soon. She’s going to sate the thirst I’ve had for years.
“I-I’m…” She trails off, her hair brushing my hands as her head falls back. I can’t see exactly what she’s doing, nor will I be pulling away from my place of worship to check.
My thumbs massage her inner thighs as my licks get fevered—primal. Her noises grow louder, her head falling forwards this time as she cries out her orgasm, her juices coating my tongue in the most delicious flavour—musky and sweet, enhanced with all the excitement of the night.
I could happily bring her to orgasm with my mouth a few more times, but I’ll be damned if she gets too sensitive before I’m inside her.
As she’s gasping for breath, I lower her leg and retrieve my knife from above, freeing her. She falls against the tree, limp, but I catch her and turn her around, searching for signs of overstimulation.
Her gaze is hazy, and she’s so fucking beautiful it knocks the wind out of me. Her chest is red, rubbed raw from the bark, and her hair is lightly tangled from the breeze.
“Good?” I check, taking a momentary pause for her well-being. Only when she nods do I move her away and shove her to her hands and knees.
My cock twitches to finally be released, and seeing her like this—her face tipped up, full, pouty lips practically begging for my cock, and breasts full—my hands ache to touch her again. Her eyes remain on mine, and it’s almost unnerving how much it seems like she sees me. She doesn’t, because with the lack of light and the mask, I’m well hidden.
“Spread your legs.”
She inches them apart without argument.
“Do you feel my claim on you?”
Her lips twitch with a partial smirk, but she continues obeying, brushing her fingertips along my bite marks. She pets them gently, reverently.
“You liked that? Being eaten? Bitten?”
“Yes,” she breathes, her pupils dilating in excitement.
“Good, because I’m nowhere close to being finished. Here.” I rest my palm along her neck, over her pulse. “And here”—I cup her breasts—“will wear my claim.”
The thought of biting her again makes my cock push against my zipper, begging to be set free and buried in our captive. She watches me undo myself, her head tipping slightly to the side, lips parting.
I’m working at the zipper when her attention suddenly darts away. Mischievousness passes over her face seconds before her plan formulates, hitting me the same instance she lunges to her feet.
So that’s how she wants to play. Oh, little rabbit, you’ve really fucked up this time.