Chapter 9 #2
When I’m swept off my feet, it’s so sudden and soundless, my yelp is cut off by a hand, and suddenly, I’m being stomped into the woods by a man twice my size, my feet dangling above ground.
My butt is secured against his belt buckle, the metal biting into my cheeks, his free hand roving up and down the front of my body, fondling my breasts, squeezing them, his knuckles raking down and up my mound.
“Barry!” I scream into his hand, my call of his name muffled by that heavy palm. “Take me back to the room.”
“It’s too late for that,” he grits, the condom still between his teeth.
“You have no control.”
“You make me lose it.” He cups my sex in a hard grip, jiggling it roughly. “I could be banging this in a soft bed right now. But you had to run.”
We’re about fifteen yards from the path when he sets me on my feet and spins me around.
Letting the condom fall from between his clamped teeth to the ground, his mouth taking hot, immediate possession of mine.
My back bows as I’m bent backward over his arm, his tongue stroking into my mouth, intoxicating me.
Making me forget that I’m supposed to be in control.
The princess. “What have you done to me?” he mutters thickly, dragging me higher against his body until I’m on my tippy toes, his hands roving over my backside, kneading both sides in a sexually frustrated massage. “What the fuck have you done to me?”
That question rings in my head.
What have I done to him?
This is not the kind of man who drags a girl into the woods and inflicts his will upon her.
Between our game, my teasing, his needs that have had years to build without relief and my determination to run off in brief clothing, I’ve turned him into an animal.
But I don’t want him to regret being too rough with me later.
This man having regrets about me seems to be my biggest fear now.
“Slow down,” I whisper, smoothing my touch down the side of his face. Gentle. “You’re not treating me like a princess, Barry.”
That robs the breath out of him, his head lifting to betray the distress in his gaze.
“I’m trying, but I swear to God, if I don’t fuck you, I’m going to die.
” His fingers trail up and down in the split of my backside, rubbing my tender rear entrance through the thin material of my shorts.
“Was I really inside this sweet ass last night? Did I really come inside of it?”
I bite his lip, tugging on it until he grunts. “You made such a big mess.”
His groan rumbles against my body. “I’m sorry.”
I can feel him shifting back down into a state of thrall.
With me. Allowing me to hold him there, keep him suffering, suspended in lust, in a way his body obviously loves.
Even if it causes him a little pain. “Maybe if you can’t fuck me without breaking the condom, you should just make a mess in my mouth, instead. ”
His tortured moan echoes through the woods. “No. Please. I can’t stop thinking about how ripe your pussy is. Looks like a fresh little tulip.” He whips off his sweatshirt and throws it down on the ground beside our feet. “Lay down. Please, princess. I can’t concentrate until it’s milking me.”
My pulse is racing just thinking about his bulky weight moving between my legs, the heat of his skin against mine, how much pleasure I can give him.
How much he can give me.
It’s those thoughts that have me sinking to my knees and lying down on his triple XL sweatshirt.
Panting, he unzips his pants and follows me, flattening me to the earth almost immediately, his mouth moving in a delicious assault over mine while he works down my shorts and panties, all the way to my ankles, before he brings them to his nose, breaking our kiss to inhale my scent from the cotton and spandex.
All the while he’s sucking down my aroma, he’s looking at the flesh between my legs, his shaft bobbing and jerking, a rope of come jetting across my belly.
He throws down my wadded-up shorts and reaches for his length, falling forward on top of me with a curse, guiding himself between my thighs.
“Condom!” I cry out.
“Fuck!” he’s shuddering violently, the tip of his erection pulsing, pulsing, pulsing against my breach “I want it in. Now.”
“Me too,” I whimper. “Safely.”
With an agonized roar, he looks around, searching the leafy ground for the packet. Finding it, he rips the square open with a flash of white teeth, reaching up to remove the ring of latex, shoving it down between our bodies, panting like a beast while he rolls it on.
“Good boy,” I praise him, raking my fingernails upward through his chest hair, my flesh growing sensitive as he continues to brush himself against my clit. Rubbing himself so deeply and insistently against my slit, he’s almost inside of me already, before he’s even penetrated. “Barry…”
“Yes,” he responds, raggedly.
Slowly, I slide my knees up the sides of his heaving ribcage, then drop them open. “Be gentle, baby. Remember you’re my first.”
Euphoria slackens his jaw, his head falling forward on a full-body shudder.
He grits his teeth and closes his eyes, pressing himself into me, one inch at a time.
“Oh, sweet Jesus.” He employs his hips, cramming himself into me.
Occupying every inch of space while I struggle to keep my thighs open.
Not to close them and push him away, because of the increased pressure.
Incredible pressure that makes me feel almost frantic.
Alive to an acute degree. “There’s your little cherry, princess. Hold on tight.”
I whimper.
He pumps deep with a guttural grunt.
“Oh!” I exclaim.
A rush of sticky moisture trickles down the slopes of my buttocks.
I gasp in wonder, his mouth intercepting the noise. Kissing me deeply, so deeply, while his rigid sex stretches my tender channel. Pulsing.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No.” I spear my fingers into his hair, keeping his mouth perched on top of mine while I wiggle right to left, attempting to get used to him. “I was built to take you,” I whisper, sipping at his lips. “In front. In back. In my mouth. However you want me.”
His face blankets itself with lust, and he rolls his hips.
“Oh God. Oh shit, that’s tight. Virgin pussy shouldn’t take me all the way to the balls, but yours does.
Just like that ass did last night. Goddamn, you precious little miracle.
” He plants his hands on either side of my head and he begins to buck, his hips swinging back to front, that enormous part of him plunging in, out, in, out, erotic squishes and slaps filling the air around us.
“I got a few seconds before I bust in this slick-ass cunt. Fuck! Fuck! I can’t stop. ”
He smothers me.
Wrapping his arms around my head, I get no air, only his mouth, his thrusts turning savage, the gargantuan size of his frame on top of my small one, rutting, dragging my back off the sweatshirt and into the leaves, his grunts turning to snarls in my ear.
I’m being ravaged in the woods and all I can do is hold on to his shoulders, whimpering, preparing for the knot that’s tying tighter inside of me to snap.
Orgasm.
I want my orgasm.
He’s giving it to me, with his body, yes, but also with his urgency. His hunger.
It tickles me, turns me on, heightens my own pleasure, watching him come undone—
There’s a snap inside of me.
What was that?
“Was that the condom?”
I only catch a flash of Barry’s concern before his mouth seals over mine and he’s kissing me, fucking me harder, his hips moving at the speed of light.
But…no.
The condom is broken.
And he’s going to ejaculate inside of me, regardless?
“Barry!” He lifts his head, and I see it, the shame mixed in among his intense hunger. “You have to pull out. You have to put on a different condom.”
“Don’t you know I’ll just break the next one, too?” he roars against my mouth. “No man could be gentle with this perfect little hole.”
Panicked, wanting to impress upon him the seriousness of what’s happening, I slap him across the face. Twice. But only pins my wrists above my head, causing my back to arch. Causing a new angle of friction against my clit.
“Ohhhh.”
“There’s my princess.” He picks up the pace again, his gaze almost black with intensity. “Those baby slaps only turn me on. Feel how much? Feel how thick they get me?”
“Barry,” I wail, my sex beginning to throb ominously, preparing for release. It’s right there, golden and shimmering. “You can’t!”
“Can’t what?”
“Get me pregnant!”
A look of realization moves in his eyes, and he roars a curse, burying his face in my neck a moment while he pummels me with angry pumps, violently rocking my body, smearing me through the forest floor.
He’s so swollen inside of me, I think it’s a lost cause, especially when the thought of Barry impregnating me is what causes me to spiral into orgasm and I moan brokenly, convulsing beneath him, my legs pinwheeling and kicking, before the heels of my feet eventually bury in his thrusting buttocks, only egging him on more.
His hips piston, his large body riding mine into the ground, and I think he’s lost all semblance of control. That there’s no way he can pull out.
“Son of a bitch,” he grits out, his thickness deserting me suddenly, his hand blurring furiously between us while he jacks off ropes of semen onto my sex and stomach, his eyes unseeing above me. “Oh my God, princess. Oh my God.”
I’m so sated and warm and connected to him, but at my own behest, I wasn’t able to experience that final moment of connection to him, and I can’t help but feel robbed.
Like I missed something, even though it was totally necessary to deny us that mutual rapture.
Of having his body joined with mine when he peaked.
It’s for the best.
Definitely for the best.
But he’s searching my face while he tries to regain his breath, obviously concerned by the ridiculous tears in my eyes.
“Are you okay, Petra. Did I—”
“It was wonderful,” I breathe, hugging him, rubbing my shoulder on the beefy warmth of his shoulder. “I’m a post-sex crier, I guess. Who knew?”
“Who knew, indeed,” he murmurs, looking down at me in unabashed awe. But it gives way to genuine curiosity. “You’re…so worried about getting pregnant?”
Not wanting to rat out his grandmother or bring up something painful from his past, I just smile.
“Of course I am. I’m only nineteen, remember?
” When that only seems to upset him, I blurt, “N-not that I’ve read the rule book, but I’m pretty sure the first commandment of being an escort is ‘thou shalt not get knocked up.’”
“Right.” He looks down at our still-aligned bodies, a line ticking in his jaw. “I…wouldn’t. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
No, I don’t want to do that to you.
But I don’t have time to say that out loud, because a voice rings in the near distance.
“Barry? Petra?” A pause. “Someone saw you come this way. Are you out here?”