Chapter 22 #3
The thunderous strikes continue, quick and constant.
I squirm against his grasp. The soil is cold against my hands as I dig my fingers into the ground.
My arms tremble, scarcely able to hold up my own weight as I try to pull away from his body.
Chunks of dirt and leaves fly into the air as I try to heave myself forward. I claw and dig, but I can’t get away.
The tension in my muscles makes my entire body shake. I'm certain my knees would have given out long ago if he weren't holding me against him. Another stinging lash whips against my skin and I can’t take it anymore.
Suddenly, words tumble from my lips, but they aren't mine. They can’t be mine because I wouldn’t say those words. They can’t be mine because I wouldn’t give in. The heated, throaty voice isn't mine when it croaks, “I'm sorry, master.”
I close my eyes and bury my head in my hands, waiting for his next strike.
It takes a moment for me to realize that the sound of his palm connecting with my ass has ceased to echo through the forest. The next touch I feel is gentle; his hand rubs soft circles over my cheeks until the molten burn dulls into a heated ache.
“That’s my good girl,” he coos against the shell of my ear.
The hand that’s been holding me up slithers up my stomach.
The threads of my dress scream in protest as he tears it open down my sternum.
I shiver when the cold air hits my chest, but the sudden heat of his palm against my breast makes my breath catch.
His thumb traces slowly around my nipple, and I tell myself that it’s just the cold making it stiffen into a hard bud.
I struggle to keep my back straight as he rolls it between his fingers.
When he pinches my nipples, I fail, arching my back and forcing my breast further into his hand.
He continues his teasing exploration of my breasts, rubbing and pinching until I’m writhing in his lap, unsure if I’m trying to pull away from him or get closer.
When I feel the finger of his other hand trace a line up my slit, my eyes rocket open.
Like a bucket of cold water has been dumped on me, my mind sharpens with a sudden sense of clarity.
This is insane. He is insane. And if I let him touch me, if I enjoy it, then I’m insane, too.
I push my hands out to the side and shove at him.
This time, I know for sure that I’m trying to push him away.
My hands meet the hard muscle of his stomach.
I press my fists into him, but I may as well be pushing a boulder because he doesn’t move an inch.
He holds my body tightly and runs his finger up and down my slit slowly.
My face heats in embarrassment when I feel the wetness spreading down my thighs. Without my permission, my body responds to his touch. I bite back a moan when his finger brushes against my clit. He circles it with his finger and flicks the sensitive bud until I cry out.
“That’s it, precious,” he purrs, “I want to hear my little bird sing.”
I choke out a needy groan as two fingers enter me.
He scissors them inside me, stretching me.
His hands are already huge, but when he opens his fingers inside me, the feeling of fullness makes me gasp.
My hips begin to move of their own accord, grinding into his hand.
My pussy clenches around his fingers, wordlessly begging him for more.
He hooks his fingers inside me, rubbing them against the spot that makes my eyes roll back.
I rock my hips forward until his palm is pressed against my clit. Grinding into him, I chase my release.
My core tightens. Hot lava boils in my stomach as the pressure inside me builds.
It threatens to boil over, to consume me entirely, and I’ll let it.
My inner walls clamp down as the first ripple of my orgasm begins to tear through me.
Without warning, he yanks his fingers out of me and lays a stinging slap on my pussy. I scream in pain and frustration.
“Did you think I was going to let you come without my permission?” He clicks his tongue like he's scolding a child. “And after you've been so disobedient?”
The world tips as I’m swiftly pulled to my feet. When my legs refuse to hold me, I crash into his chest. My body sinks into him, seeking warmth and steadiness. I tell my arms to push him away, my legs to step back, but they don't move and he doesn't shove me away.
He must be angry, though. And if he's angry, I need to make myself move away from him. Hesitantly, I lift my chin. I tilt my head upward until I see his face. I tense immediately, expecting to find him glowering down at me. Only he isn't. In fact, he doesn't look angry at all. He's smiling.
For a moment, I can't seem to do anything other than stare at him and wonder if his smile is real. His eyes seem brighter, as if the ice in his irises has thawed into a sparkling, blue lake. Did I notice that little dimple in his cheek before? I'm sure I would have remembered that.
In the dim light of the forest, his face is more alluring than it should be. The shadows that spread across his face seem to make its hard planes deeper and yet somehow softer. It's as if the night knows him, like it belongs to him.
The sound of masculine approval that resonates in his throat jolts me out of my stupor. How long have I been staring?
Eager to fill the tense silence, my mouth moves, forming blundered words and syllables. “I-I…uh…”
Before I can make a coherent sentence, his mouth crashes into mine.
His kiss is hard and unforgiving. It’s desperate and demanding.
His lips move against mine. His teeth nip at my lower lip until I moan into his mouth.
His tongue parts my lips and he tastes me.
I grip his shirt in my fingers to steady myself, but I can’t seem to force my body to step away.
I'm not sure if I even want to. He kisses me like no man ever has before. He kisses me like he needs me.
When he pulls his mouth away from mine, I’m breathless.
My lip quivers and a shiver runs through my body.
I open my mouth to speak, but before any sound can escape, his hand is over my mouth.
A sticky sweet smell fills my nose. It envelopes my nose until I can taste it on my tongue.
The trees around me begin to sway, their images warping into a hazy puddle.
My vision tunnels. The edges of my view become fuzzy and dark.
Gray speaks to me as the world around me slowly melts into darkness. His voice becomes softer, further away with each word.
“I’ve got you, little bird. It’s okay….”