Adrien
Present
There is nothing—absolutely nothing—in this world that can get me higher than watching her unravel like this in my arms.
Her pussy clenches around my fingers. She’s shaking. Her hands clutch my forearms so hard it deliciously stings, her thighs jerking with involuntary tremors as her full weight gives out beneath her and collapses into me.
Compared to this, it feels like I’ve been dead for the past six years, merely moving, breathing, existing. I’m afraid I’m no longer capable of feeling truly alive unless she’s in my arms.
The adorable collapse holds her for what feels longer than it should, or maybe it’s only my mind stretching the moment, desperate to make it last forever.
She’s still making those unbearably sweet sounds, and I’m no longer sure whether they’re still falling from her lips or if my mind has already begun replaying them on an endless loop.
If sound could have a color, this one would be pink, crashing into white, like ocean waves folding onto the shore and dissolving into foamy bubbles.
I let my face sink into her hair, because it’s all I ever want to breathe again. I’ve imagined this, and more—much more—so many times that for a split second I doubt reality itself, just like she does.
The intensity pulls me somewhere distant and unreal, like sleepwalking.
The trees around us are falling upwards.
The wet, earthy smell of the forest mingles with the scent of her skin, still heated from the run and everything we’ve just done.
I have to open my eyes just to make sure this isn’t another chemically fueled fantasy I’ve desperately fallen into and refused to wake up from.
It’s not.
My salvation is right here, in my hands.
As her writhing slowly subsides, I slide my hand up over her stomach, easing it free from beneath her underwear before letting it rest low against her belly. I press gently, tracing slow circles around her navel with my thumb, grounding her, and mainly myself.
But I can’t bring myself to let go of her pussy yet. She’s soaked, wet warmth is clinging to my fingers, and the thought of eating her right now hits me hard enough that I have to bite the urge back. I would, without hesitation, if we weren’t standing in the middle of a fucking forest.
The urge to slurp the mess she made out of her like it’s a soda can is painfully unbearable.
I want to strip her out of her clothes and devour her properly.
Thoroughly. Every inch of her. For hours.
Days. Forever, actually. Making her cum so many times she’ll forget how it feels to breathe normally.
Whatever human bodies are made of, hers contains something mine doesn’t and something I’ve been missing on a level that has nothing to do with anatomy. It’s deeper than that. Internal, or spiritual.
I swear she bewitched me fifteen years ago, because there’s nothing remotely sane about the way I feel right now.
I long to have her at my mercy, undoing her in all the ways possible, crossing every line, ruining her so hard until she can’t walk, and claiming every piece of her body until she forgets where she ends and where I begin.
I bury my face in the spot where her neck meets her shoulder, right beneath the start of her ponytail, and breathe her in like a lunatic, because I know she’ll pull away any second now and I’m not even slightly ready for that yet.
We stay quiet, both of us forcing our breathing back into something that resembles normal. I can feel her body slowly regaining its strength, finding its balance again, leaving behind that fragile state where she was completely undone and unable to stand on her own.
I catch her ponytail and give it a gentle tug, tilting her head back and to the side as I try to steal a kiss, but the moment she opens her eyes, I see it. The anger has settled right back into place.
It’s probably not the right time to find that deeply arousing, but what the hell am I supposed to do?
She’s about to push away from me, I can feel it. But I’m not ready to let go.
Change of plans.
I push us away from the tree and turn her around just enough to lift her into my arms.
“What are you doing?” she squeals, equal parts offended and adorable, her body still too drained to put up much of a fight.
“We’re not done,” I say through a smile before kneeling onto fallen leaves and lowering her onto a pillow of moss.
She immediately scrambles upright, trying to get back on her feet.
“What are you doing,” she bites out.
I catch one of her ankles and slip off a shoe, then the other before she has time to realize I’m taking off her clothes.
“What—” she blurts, still trying to get away, yet still too weak to put up a proper fight.
I hook my fingers beneath the hem of her leggings and slide them down in one smooth motion, leaving her in nothing but her soaked underwear. She tries to crawl away from me, so I grab her ankles and pull her right back where she belongs, holding her firmly in place.
“What are you doing!” she yells.
“I can’t let you leave like this,” I say calmly.
“Like what!” she shoots back, adorably furious.
“Like this,” I explain, pulling the thin strap of her underwear to the side to see her pussy.
The sight almost has me praying.
“I did this,” I say with quiet pride, my gaze lingering on the slickness pouring out of her. “I can’t just let you walk away with it.”
“Are you fucking serious?” she grits out, continuing to squirm beneath me, swatting at my hands and hurling every insult she can think of in my direction.
I catch one of her wrists, then seize the other and pin them both beside her waist.
“Stop fighting. I’ll just kiss her, I swear.”
She doesn’t stop fidgeting, so I just dive into her pussy, licking her up the whole way, gathering her release like a reward and getting drunk on the bittersweet taste.
The second my tongue touches her, every ounce of resistance drains from her body and she goes completely slack.
My mouth curves into a smile while grazing her clit, coating myself in the bliss, taking the treat I’ve more than earned.
I take it slow, using the way she’s sensitive to every little touch now, playing with her until she can barely seem to catch a breath around the soft sounds caught in her throat.
When she seems to surrender to it fully, visibly drifting toward another orgasm, I stop.
“Take it out on me,” I whisper, my lips brushing the inside of her thigh. “Violate me.”
I dive back into her pussy, releasing her wrists only to catch her by the hips and roll us over, making her sit on my face. She catches her balance with a tiny adorable squeak, then proceeds to ride my mouth without restraint, taking herself on the verge of breaking apart again.
The way she uses me like that awakens something ravenous inside me.
Her thighs lock me in, her breath turning into high broken moans, and as she’s riding it out, coating my mouth in another wave of release, the heat in my body drives down my spine and unexpectedly—
Detonates as well.
She climbs off me and drops down on her back right next to me, catching her breath, while I quickly shove my hand down my pants to stop what’s coming but it’s too late anyway.
Instead, I clap my other hand over my mouth, desperately trying to smother a laugh because I just fucking came in my pants.
The warmth of her body slowly disappears from mine, leaving me abandoned in the leaves. Beside me, she starts moving again, furiously forcing herself back into her clothes before pushing herself upright, while I remain sprawled on the ground.
She stands over me for a moment, watching me as she’s pulling herself back together.
“What are you doing,” she mumbles.
“Nothing.” I push myself to my feet, adopting the most innocent expression I can manage before leaning against the nearest tree.
There is a moment of our favorite staring competition when I can beautifully read what’s happening behind those swampy green eyes. To absolutely no surprise, she’s back to fury now.
Her cheeks are flushed, bringing her freckles back to life. I could name the exact coordinates of every single one of them without looking, but seeing them like this is better.
There are a few under her eyes, scattered across the bridge of her nose, and then three bigger ones right at the line of her cleavage but I can’t look there right now or I’ll relapse.
The silver ponytail falls all the way to her waist, and now in daylight—in this misty, damp cradle of forest—I notice how the white of her hair pushes the green in her eyes forward, sharpening it and turning it feral. Almost vulpine.
She’s also settling back into her body, her weight evening out, getting healthier, given the fact I’m making her pancakes every single morning.
Or maybe it’s just the pines around us, the green soaking into her, fitting her like she was grown here instead of born.
She steps toward me, and the movement snaps me out of my quiet, starving observation.
As I push myself off the tree, she takes it out on me again. She shoves me with everything she has, and this time she succeeds, slamming me roughly back against the bark. The impact barely registers before she tops it with another slap.
The sting flashes hot across my face like mercy, but then it drops lower and transforms into a dangerous pull deep in my stomach, like gravity flicked off for a heartbeat.
She’s clearly come down from her high.
I haven’t. Not even remotely. I’m still up there.
“God, I missed you,” slips out of me again like a release, like something that had to leave my body or I’d choke on it.
I straighten instinctively, already bracing, already waiting desperately for another touch, hit or anything, like a dog patiently waiting for another treat.
“This,” she says, voice sharp and clipped, still catching up with her breath, “didn’t change anything.”
It felt like it changed at least something, but okay. I’m not going to say that.
“Okay,” I nod instead, too easily.
Her eyes narrow. “Are you really smiling?”
She shoves me again, palms flat to my chest.
“I’m not,” I answer immediately.