CHAPTER 4 JARED #10
My eyes drift lower to his crotch. It's strange how he walks around completely naked, as if the cold doesn't affect him at all, even though it's probably no warmer than forty-five degrees outside now, as the sun sets.
I wonder why it doesn't bother him. His thick cock hangs there in a familiar half-hard state, just like before, and the sight makes me swallow as an overwhelming need to touch it surges through me.
Why wait? My heat certainly isn't.
I step over to the bed and begin taking my clothes off.
"I washed up. I won't smell like dried cum anymore," I mutter, cringing at myself, though of course he doesn't answer.
He smells fresh too. Did he bathe while I was asleep? With shampoo? So bizarre…
I should ask for that phone after all. Since the guy is buying himself all kinds of products, he should have a phone too, but I can’t see one anywhere in the cabin, and he’s naked, so the question catches in my throat—again.
In a normal situation, I would be dying of worry if Tommy were missing me. Is he all right? But my heat's powerful energy just forces my thoughts down a lewd path with such impetus that I don’t stand a chance.
I take off the rest of my clothes, undo my braid, letting my hair fall free again, and stand in front of him with my back straight.
I know I look good, yet for some reason… standing here like this still leaves me strangely self-conscious. I want to tell the entity that another wave is building, but I can’t force the words out. I just stare.
Meaningfully, I hope?
Asking for sex when I’m not at the peak of a heat wave seems like a bit of a challenge for me.
Before I met Mark, all I'd ever known was pretending and enduring.
Gritting my teeth and acting like I liked it when I actually hated the act itself.
That was when the Ring had me. And then Mark came and saved me, struck by my beauty.
He wanted to own me completely. As a trophy on his arm, a symbol of his success, something to draw people's attention.
And people would say, "Wow, where did you find him? Is he even real? I’ve never seen anyone that beautiful… "
And Mark preened. He lifted me out of the ruins of my previous life, treating me like a fallen angel with broken wings, something unique he'd claimed for himself. His alpha instincts were powerful. He gave me safety, wanting to become my entire world, and back then that was enough because he was shielding me from falling back into the Ring’s clutches.
He was the better alternative to hell, his darker side hadn't shown itself yet. And his possessiveness? I simply accepted it as a necessary part of the deal.
Because of him, I learned for the first time that sex could actually be pleasurable. It was never wonderful, but it was okay for some time.
Then, over the next few years, that changed. Mark had a high sex drive, and he was annoyed by my reluctance and impassiveness. He called me a cold fish and even suggested I was asexual, which I knew I wasn’t.
I always suspected he fucked others. I could smell omegas on him sometimes. He insisted it was just because of how closely he worked with his assistants, but in any case, after Tommy was born, our sex life declined sharply.
I devoted most of my time to our son, while Mark threw himself into his political career with endless trips and campaign events.
When he came home at night, he was exhausted and usually in a terrible mood.
His stress always found its way to me. We still had sex on occasion, but the more violence I endured from him, the less capable I became of relaxing in bed.
The more names he called me, the more hatred he poured into me, the deeper I retreated into myself until I couldn't find anything good anymore in those moments when we lay together in the dark and he reached for me.
Over the last year, it became about enduring it again.
Just waiting for it to be over. I'd stopped believing things would ever get better.
The only positive side of it was that it became very rare, and during the few months before his arrest, he just stopped initiating it altogether, which was a relief.
Now, as the contractions gradually grow stronger, rolling through my body in waves, I feel like I’m standing between two worlds.
One is filled with painful memories, a miserable sex life, stress, constant fear.
The other is within reach: losing myself in the easy pleasure the entity offers, surrendering to him, taking in the bliss, basking in his gentleness… So tempting, so good. Free of fear, free of consequences, free of dread.
I’m rarely in touch with my omegan nature, but now, with the flames of heat engulfing my body, I can let that hidden part of me rise to the surface.
It’s okay, my subconscious whispers. He’s not Mark. He won’t hit you or call you a slut.
The hell with that. Time to move on. In a sudden surge of courage, I decide to show him instead of telling him.
I climb onto the bed and settle into an omega presenting position. I lift my hips, brace myself on my elbows, lower my head obediently onto the pillow, and let out a soft, quiet whine, a call inviting an alpha to serve me in heat.
It works like a charm, like pushing a button.
The fae moves toward me immediately. I keep my head turned slightly to the side so I can watch what he's doing.
Those glowing eyes are fixed on me as I lie there, completely exposed to him.
I'd been so sure he'd climb onto the bed and get straight to fucking me, but that's not what happens.
Instead, I feel his warm hands slide over my ass, gently spreading my cheeks apart.
His face comes close, his breath like a feather brushing my skin.
And then he starts licking me… his tongue soft and wet.
The sensation steals the air from my lungs because Mark never did this. He always claimed it just wasn't his thing, but once, in a rare moment of honesty, he admitted the truth: He was disgusted by me.
"All those goddamn bastards who fucked you. Goddamn Dante Moll. Goddamn Major. Goddamn Rocco Ferro. Goddamn Nyke's campaign manager. And fucking Senator Rolens. And fucking Vincenzo Ferro!"
He knew every single one of them. He made me tell him about every man who'd ever fucked me. He dragged it out of me that there had been nineteen before him, and that made him number twenty. He used to say he'd be the last. I guess, not.
Sometimes, when he was angry with me, he loved torturing me by reciting them one by one. The names of every man in the Ring.
It didn't matter that during the six years we were married, I'd never been with another man.
It didn't matter that I'd left that life behind, that I'd been tested over and over and was completely healthy. To him, my hole was something filthy. He always used a condom with me. Not once did he fuck me without one. Tommy had been born through surrogacy anyway. The doctors simply used my egg and Mark’s semen, so as far as Mark was concerned, there was never any reason to go bare.
I must say, thinking about my ex-husband while the green being's mouth is worshipping my entrance is probably the worst thing I could be doing, so I force those memories aside and focus on myself instead.
The sensation is unlike anything I've ever experienced before.
Ticklish, warm, unbelievably pleasurable.
There's something almost blissful about it, like floating on pink bubbles, and I feel a strange rush of gratitude that this green forest fae isn't repulsed by me.
Quite the opposite. He seems to be enjoying himself, eagerly, enthusiastically, while his thick green cock stands hard between his legs.
Gosh… this is so different from everything I've ever known.
With reckless abandon, I sink into this feeling, surrendering myself to this being. I don't know him at all. He is a mystery to me, an enigma when it comes to his intentions, his motives, and the very fact of his existence, but I still give myself to him fully, and it’s incredibly liberating.
I can feel my slick flowing more and more abundantly.
It's honestly embarrassing how much there is, how desperately needy my body makes me look, but the fae seems to savor it.
From my swollen folds, little sparks of pleasure race deep into my tunnel, fueling the contractions even more and my ring of muscle trembles, clenches, as though trying to pull something inside itself.
A quiet "Please…" slips from my lips; I just can’t stop it, the heat has won again.
The being rises, and I spread my knees even wider to make room for him.
The green head of his cock presses against my rim, but he doesn't have to put in much effort.
My drenched opening lets him in without a struggle.
I feel that slide along my entire length and let out a muffled groan, taking him in smoothly. My stomach seems to almost bulge.
Fuck, I feel like I've been impaled, yet it's simultaneously exhilarating.
There's something damn naughty about it, like a wet fantasy coming true.
And this is my thing, all right: imagining monsters taking me, fucking me, plowing me instead of humans, who are actually far more dangerous beasts.
This particular one is giving me something even better, something only a fantasy creature can give. Bliss without any social burdens.
He stays still inside me for a moment, giving me time to get used to his presence, but I don't need that; it’s a heat, after all. What I need is some hard fucking.
My hips give a slight jerk, letting him know I’m ready.
He follows my motion and begins to drive into me, slowly, steadily thrusting.
Half an inch deeper with every sway of his hips.
Every wave of his movement is smooth and incredibly pleasurable.
Every dive sends more of those sparks of pleasure traveling through my walls, then up my spine, flooding my brain with a sweet mist of ecstasy.