Chapter 8
ELIAS
The woman is a witch, no doubt about it.
I know this because I'm still here—still breathing, still present.
The nightmare's usual hollow aftermath is already fading at the edges instead of dragging me under for hours the way it normally does.
The cold sweat cooling on my skin, the phantom sounds still ringing faintly in my ears, the weight of all those bodies I can't put down—all of it receding faster than it ever has.
Because of her. Because she climbed on top of a thrashing ex-military man in the dark and put her hands on him and called him back.
I've never recovered from one that fast. Not once in fifteen years.
Witch.
And yet, as my hands greedily cup her hips and stroke her thighs, as her tits graze my chest, as her warm breath coats my lips—jasmine and sleep and something underneath it that is purely her—I know that she's all flesh and heart and naked desire.
The heat of her bare core seeps through my sweatpants, soaking into me, making my cock strain against the material with single-minded intent. I can feel every soft inch of her where she's pressed against me, the give of her thighs against my hips, the soft weight of her hands on my shoulders.
If I accept what she's offering me, if I give her what she's begging me for, how will I return her when the time's right? Can I return to my barren existence once I taste her sunshine and warmth?
Already, I feel the tendrils of her affection snaking around me, binding me to her, burrowing deep.
That she would approach me when I'm lost in the throes of a nightmare because she couldn't bear for me to be in pain unmans me.
The bruise on her jaw guts me. And yet, all it took was her touch on my skin, her body anchoring my soul back into mine to pull me clear.
"So it is true," she says, lush lips pouting. "You don't want me. I heard my stepsisters say all men wake up with…" she scrunches her brow and it's the cutest thing I've ever seen, "wood."
I tighten my grip over her jaw. "You're smart, brave, and beautiful, Princess. How could any man not want you?" The words slip out of their own will. "But I'm not—"
She presses a finger against my mouth. "I know that you don't want me here, that I'm an unwanted burden.
But for me, this is one window out of my own life.
I don't know what the fallout from the shooting will be, what I'm going to go back to.
The only person who's ever cared about me, my brother Marco," her throat moves on a ripple as she swallows, "I have no idea what condition he's in.
So for a few days, I'm making the choice to live the way I want. Are you going to deny me that chance?"
The last thread of my control rips at the flash of fear I see in her eyes.
That her future is bleaker than mine is a given.
And yet here she is, grasping life with both hands.
"No," I say, pushing the word out. "But you should know that you might be making a bad bet. I haven't done this in a long time."
Naughtiness sparkles in her eyes. "How long?"
"Nearly two decades."
"Hmm," she says, tightening her arms around my neck. "Do you know what’s supposed to go where?"
I laugh and push onto my knees, jostling her against me.
My hip protests with a line of fire but I tune it out.
One advantage of all those years of rigorous training—learning to ignore pain.
The rub of her tits against my chest, the jasmine scent of her hair falling around us both, is all I concentrate on.
Her fingers dig into my shoulder and she squeals. "Oh my God, how are you lifting me like that? I'm not small."
I put her delicious ass at the edge of the bed and kneel between her legs. Her eyes grow wide as I push her thighs apart against my hips, spreading her wide. The warmth radiating off her skin reaches me even before I touch her. The scent of her arousal hits me like a fist.
"Now," I say, scooting back and rolling her shirt up, "let's look at my prize."
Her palm comes down in a hurry to cover herself but there's still so much to look at.
Thick toned thighs, the curve of her belly where a small diamond stud winks at me and as I pull the hem higher, those heavy tits with dark pink, fat nipples.
They're stiff right now, straining against the air, demanding attention.
It wouldn't be a shock if my cock pokes through the material of my sweats just to get at her.
She's a bounty, a feast for a starving man, and my swallow is audible as I take her in.
The amber lamplight turns her skin gold, catches the curve of her waist, the jut of her hip.
When I look up, her round cheeks are that pretty pink. "I thought you wanted this, Princess?"
She nods. "I thought you would just mount me under the duvet. Or bend me over something? That's what my stepsisters say most men prefer."
If I ever met those two women, not sure I could control myself. "Mount you?" I rub my face with my hand, trying to hide my smile. "That sounds like men who don't care at all about their partner's pleasure. Why would you want that?"
"I was hoping you would offer more." She digs her teeth into her lower lip. "But not this much."
I grin and her gaze snags on my mouth. "You are getting more, Princess. I'm a man who always overdelivers. Now, let me look." I catch her wrist and gently pull it away.
Her tits heave as my gaze moves down to my prize.
Her pretty, lush, perfectly damp pussy.
She's fully shaved, with fat outer lips and her clit already trying to peek out. My mouth waters. My entire body hums with a need so acute it's almost pain. The low crackle of the fire and the sigh of wind through the pines are the only sounds in the cabin besides our breathing.
"Do you like it?" she says, in a throaty voice. "I don't like going fully bare but that man insisted."
I look into her eyes, trying to hide the menace I feel toward that cowering old man who gave her up without even a token protest. If I got my hands on him—
"Elias?"
I breathe out roughly, pushing the aggression out with it. She deserves my tenderness. "You have the perfect pussy, sweetheart. What's not to like? But I would have loved it, gone hunting for this pearl of a treasure even if you had a full bush."
She giggles and it's the sweetest sound I've ever heard. I want her to make that sound—and her groans and her moans—a thousand times in the next few days. I want the walls of this cabin to soak her sounds in, so they become a part of it. So she becomes a part of me.
Fuck, this is getting out of hand already. But I need this now. Need her.
"Is it mine for the next few days, Princess? This pussy?"
"Yes, please. Whatever you want to do, however you want me, I'm all yours, mountain man."
I nod, trying to corral my breath. Most of my life, I’d been angry with the world, hurt by the injustices it made me commit. Hurt for how it used me to kill, then spat me out.
But this, her, it’s a benediction I didn’t know I’d been waiting for. “Scoot back. Grip my hair with your fingers. Steer me wherever you want. I might be a little rusty at the beginning but I'm a fast learner."
"Steer you? What do you mean?"
I don't answer. Simply grin at her and dive in for my feast.