18. Payton
EIGHTEEN
PAYTON
I have no idea why I ran again, especially when understanding the thrill of being caught. The orgasm against the tree was like none I’ve ever experienced before. It was a special kind of power, being pulled to the brink and shoved off the edge beneath the influence of the moon. Doing so in the woods is primal in itself, among the animals and nature that live without laws.
Lawless and free.
But the game goes on, because it’s too thrilling not to. To provoke him, to force him to dominate me. Imagining what he’s about to do makes me excited, because he won’t let me go far. Nor do I really want to; just far enough to make my point.
Jace is chasing me. Jace.
It must be. When he was undoing his pants, it gave me a clear-as-day view of the scar. It’s the same colour, shape, and size. Same hand.
The man in the wolf mask, who set this game up, is Jace. Which means—I can’t even think about what it means.
Sticks stab into my bare feet, slowing me down. He’s close, and I’ve probably only made it a dozen or so strides before his arms wrap around my waist and he forces us to the ground. My hands land on the earth, twigs digging in.
He’s rough when he kicks my legs apart and reaches for my arms, wrenching them behind my back and pinning them together in one hand. My chest is pushed into the ground, dirt and leaves tangling in my hair. With his other hand, he yanks my knotted locks, lifting my head backwards, then bends over, the outline of his cock pressing against my ass.
“Nice try, but not again. Realize this now—no matter how far you run, I’ll be a step ahead. No matter how hard you fight, I’ll be stronger. If you do that again, I’ll make your ass so red, you won’t be able to sit until next Easter.”
I squirm despite his warning, but all it does is rub my ass against him. He’s doing a really damn good job of masking his voice, but now I hear what my mind didn’t put together before this. It’s there: the same roughness as Jace’s.
He pauses like he’s thinking about something, then abruptly releases me to stand, hauling me to my knees. I’m a ragdoll for him to control as he finishes what he began before I darted off. He undoes his pants, the zipper loud in the forest’s silence.
His hand delves into my hair, his other gripping his now-freed cock. He’s hard, the tip glistening with pre-cum, and I find myself licking my bottom lip, imagining the taste.
He groans, gripping my hair tighter as he hauls me closer. “Been dreaming of this mouth since the moment I saw you, little rabbit. You thought to run, so you get to pay the price. Open.”
My lips part, and he guides my head closer, the tip of him kissing my lips seconds before my next inhale. He takes that opportunity to thrust deep, hitting the back of my throat and immediately causing me to gag, my reflexes not having caught up yet.
He pulls back halfway, murmuring, “Tap my leg in place of your safe words. One tap for amber, and two for golden.”
It’s his one moment of kindness, because then he places both hands around my head and pushes me onto him, roughly fucking my face. It’s animalistic and delicious, all wrapped up in debauchery. He controls everything from the speed to the depth, my mouth nothing more than a wet hole for him to fuck. My tongue drags along the underside of his cock, trying my best to brush the sensitive part of him and have some power in this.
“You have no fuckin’ idea how sexy you look on your knees, sucking my cock. A view I could come from.”
Spit gathers in my mouth, his speed not allowing me to swallow, and the act fills the forest with a sound so depraved, so erotic, my pussy clenches around nothing, anticipating him being inside me. His moans pierce the air, telling me while he’s rendered me immobilized, I’m far from powerless.
He abruptly pulls from my mouth with a curse, his thumb coming down on my bottom lip as he forces my mouth open. “To see my cum in here…next time, perhaps.”
Will there be a next time? Fuck, I hope so.
He places me back on my hands and knees, the same position he put me in after catching me, and grabs my arms, pulling them behind my body until my torso kisses the ground.
“Don’t you dare move them,” he demands, so I don’t, holding my elbows still until my body is half numb. He grasps my hair, looping it around a fist and tugging lightly.
The head of his cock rubs over my clit. “I have a condom. Will I need one?”
I shake my head as much as his hold allows for. “I’m safe and on birth control.”
He strokes over me before pushing inside, sinking three inches deep before pausing, and then seating himself another three inches with a loud groan. The hold he has on my hair tightens until my scalp screams. It causes my back to arch, making my pussy clamp tighter, my nipples rubbing painfully against the ground.
Fuck, this position is everything.
Then he moves, and I die.
My hands falter on my back, but he’s right there, clamping his free one over them to keep me in position.
“When rabbits are caught in snares, they’re not given freedom. You won’t be going anywhere until you’re full of my cum.”
I whimper, unable to hold in the pathetic sound. No one’s made me feel like this before. Not Aaron, that’s for certain. This is Jace. And I don’t know what to think. What happens when I have to look him in the face tomorrow and pretend tonight never happened?
“When your pussy is dripping with cum, that’s when I’ll let you go. I’ll let you run as far as your legs will take you while hunting you again. After this, no one else will touch you, not when you’re so deeply imprinted with me.”
He thrusts into me so hard, his statement engraves on my insides. I’ll have marks tomorrow for sure, but I’ll cherish every damn one. The external ones from the ground and his grip, and the internal ones on how his claim affects my emotions.
He releases my wrists, not complaining when I lower them to the ground. Even with them free, I’m rendered useless by the grip he maintains on my hair, tilting me as he shifts, changing the angle of his cock inside me.
He suddenly releases my hair, and then his fingers are coming around the front of my neck until they brush against my pulse. In this position, my life is literally in the palm of his hands, but he’s an executioner I’m more than willing to kneel for.
He uses my throat to propel me onto my knees, my back against his front. He tips my head to the side to bare my neck to him. As his thrusts quicken, taking me to the edge, he sinks his teeth in. In his hold, my orgasm lets loose. When he comes, he doesn’t yell out, just bites harder as heat shoots deep inside me, his claim officially laid.
After a moment and many sharp inhales, he slips out of me and gently lowers my body to the ground, coming down on top of me. His breaths vibrate through my chest, and I match mine to his.
To Jace’s.
He feels really good.
Much too soon, and with a sigh indicating we’re sharing the same feelings, he lifts off. His hands massage my back, ass, and thighs. “You okay?” His voice slipped ever so slightly there, losing some of the gruff.
“Perfect.”
A forest floor should never be this comfortable, but beneath his caresses, I could sleep here. Minutes pass before he stands and does up his pants before retrieving mine, half of them in ruins. Inside my sweater, the Easter egg is still hidden, and I wonder if he knows I found one. I’m not sure I even have it in me to cash it in, considering tonight’s already been everything I imagined.
He rests my clothing on my chest before sliding one arm behind my back, the other going beneath my legs. He lifts me with little effort, then starts walking.
“Where are you taking me?”
“Your house,” he says in an almost insulted tone.
“You carry all your women?” I roll my head to study the parts of his face unhidden by the mask, like the line of his jaw, searching for more clues I’m not delusional in thinking this man is Jace. The scar is pretty damning, though…
“No.” His reply is short, if not a bit tainted by dismay.
We near the edge of the woods much too quickly. Whyever Jace did this, I want to thank him. This night was more than I ever imagined, and knowing it was with someone trustworthy made it better. I wasn’t sold on the idea of fucking a stranger, even if I believed him to be Jace when deciding not to return the golden egg outside.
Still, to imagine next time I see him, I’ll have to pretend not to know what he feels like inside me. How his hands feel caressing my skin, his tongue on my clit. It’s impossible; I’ll combust after a greeting.
When I expect him to drop me on my porch, he strides up the two steps and heads for the door. “Door unlocked?”
“Yeah.”
He shuffles me in his arms to free a hand to twist the knob, using his hip to nudge it open the rest of the way. He kicks it shut before carrying me down the hallway and into my bedroom—all without direction, which suggests he’s been watching me. Something that should be petrifying, but isn’t.
Well, that answers the question of who was watching me the other night. The next day was when I first saw Jace after the eight-year gap. It all makes sense.
He grabs my clothes from where they still rest on my chest and drops them onto the floor before pulling back the comforter and sliding me beneath it. Aches I never could have imagined come to attention at the change in position. Too soon, my limbs melt into the mattress, my head hazy with exhaustion.
He stares down at me, his hands forming fists by his sides. He uncurls and reforms them twice before his tongue dabs at his lower lip, seeming like there’s more he wants to say. And maybe he does. Maybe he wants to admit his identity in the same way I want to tell him I’m aware.
Instead, his fingers linger on my arm, lightly tracing, before he pulls away with obvious resistance. Before he gets too far, I reach for his hand—the scarred one—and link my fingers with his, tugging him into a kneeling position beside the bed.
This time, he’s caught in my snare, body still as he watches me trace up his arm, over his shoulder, and across his jaw near the ribbon tied behind his head holding his mask on.
But I don’t tug the ribbon, not willing to reveal what we both know. Instead, I drag my nails through his hair, giving him even an ounce of the pleasure he granted me tonight.
“My ex-boyfriend broke up with me for that reason. Well, it was one of a few reasons, anyway. He wasn’t interested in my fantasies, so thank you for making them come true.” Facts Jace knows, but I’m feigning oblivion.
“Your ex didn’t deserve you.” More hints of my Jace emerge in the sharpness of his tone, his age-old loathing for Aaron peeking through. “Some people aren’t compatible. You’ll have to find that one.”
Like you.
“Compatibility wasn’t our only issue. He blamed everything on me, not only sex. When life started to get busy and we couldn’t spend every waking minute together, he got annoyed. When university got demanding, he complained I wasn’t being a good girlfriend. When wanting to experiment in the bedroom, he called me sick. When bills piled up because, despite his parents funding his life, he contributed very little, I became stressed and my body changed. He didn’t like that either.”
I don’t really know why I say all this, considering it’s nothing Jace doesn’t know already. But he doesn’t know I know, so acting the part is key before this night blows up in awkwardness.
Dark eyes stroke down my skin. “I love every inch of your body. He’s a fool. You’ve become my Easter treat, my place of worship, my sin on earth.”
His words bring the hint of a smile to my face, enough to remind me of all the positive mindset changes I had to go through after my breakup with Aaron.
“Why did you tell me that?” he asks after a moment.
“Because you’re the only one who’s made me feel better.” Now and then. You as my hunter, and as Jace.
From down the hallway, Aaron’s notes are once again a beacon. A part of me wants to tell him, knowing he’s Jace, because he’ll care . But considering he’s supposed to be anonymous and there’s technically nothing between us, it wouldn’t be right pulling him into my drama more than he already has been.
He grabs my hand in response, bringing the tips of my fingers to his teeth then lightly nipping, reminding me once again of the love bites decorating my thighs.
I want more before he goes.
I inch closer, turning until my thighs fall on either side of his body. He doesn’t stop me when I tug him closer, nor when I tip my head up and brush his lips with my own. He freezes as both past and present catch up to two old friends.
Suddenly, both my hands are in his, and he climbs half on top of me, kissing me harder, sweeping me away and back to places only reached on a primal level. His tongue traces the seam of my mouth, and I part my lips to let him in.
His kiss is a fevered promise of more while also being a resigned goodbye.
Too soon, he pulls away and releases my hands. His lips press together as though to lock the taste of me into him—at least, that’s what I tell myself—and he traces a line down my cheek.
“I never stay,” he says suddenly. “Anyone I’ve done this with in the past, after making sure they’re good and dressed, I don’t carry them home. I don’t tuck them in. I never kiss them.”
“Glad I’m your first.”
His lips twitch into a sad, almost smile, and then his touch is completely gone as he turns for the door. His reply is a whisper, something more for me than him.
“You’ve always been my first, Payton.”
And then he’s gone, and a few moments later, my front door shuts.