Page 20 of Willing Prey

“I can feel your pulse,” he grunts in my ear, hand tightening around my neck. “Is it racing because you’re scared or because you love this?”

Wrenching my head away, I try to shake him loose, but I already know won’t be getting away this time. Underneath arousal, exhaustion is sinking in.

Still horny though.

I clamp around him as he drives so deep his hipbones grind against my ass.

“Scream, Claire,” Shane’s trying to sound in control, but his cock is tightening inside me, thickening and tensing the way it does before he comes. His hand’s slipping on my neck. “Give it to me.”

My jaw aches to open. A scream claws its way up my throat as pleasure builds inferno-hot inside me, undeterred by the rain on my skin.

“No.” Thunder swallows my refusal.

“Come for me,” he’s commanding it now, voice louder than the storm. Need makes me jerk, my limbs twitching as my brain and body battle. “Scream for me.”

I brace for him to grab my breasts, reach for my clit. What he usually does when he tells me to come. Shane releases my throat, shoving my face against the ground. Dirt’s in my mouth, grass is up my nose, and he’s inside me, trembling and thrusting. There’s pain, a flash of white light coming with it. I’m not sure if it’s lightning or my brain reacting to the sensation of Shane’s teeth sinking deep into the back of my neck.

This isn’t like the other times he’s bitten me. This hurts. This isn’t a nip or scraping his teeth along my throat. This is carnal, animalistic. There’s heat, and I don’t know if it’s from his mouth or my blood, but then there’s more warmth inside me. I’m being filled, his cock pulsing in time with the throbbing pain in my neck. I’m coming, or maybe I’m going, I don’t know. All I know is pleasure radiates through my body so intensely that I might pass out. There are flares of light in my vision again, butI don’t see stars. I’ve gone beyond that. Pleasure has pushed me out to where I see universes. My pussy spasms around him, his teeth still sunk in my neck. I can’t help it. I can’t stop myself. I scream for him.

Thunder no longer rumbles; it roars, almost drowning out my cry. I’m coming too hard to tell if the ground is trembling or I am. My face is in the grass, every breath carrying the scent of damp earth as pleasure fades. Shane’s no longer biting me, but even through the downpour, I can feel the heat of his breath on my back. He’s softening inside me. My pussy twitches with aftershocks of the earthquake I just experienced.

I’m high on post-orgasm endorphins, but the back of my neck throbs. It’s not the most painful thing I’ve experienced, but it’s uncomfortable. What’s worrying me is the fact that I feel emotionally depleted. Exhaustion, the cold, and the most brutal orgasm of my life are causing me to feel like I might burst into tears. Unfortunately, identifying the cause of the impending waterworks won’t do much to dam them.

Shane needs to leave. I want to have my emotional moment and go back to the house, but he hasn’t withdrawn. His cock is the only part of either of us that’s warm and cozy right now. I give a tentative wiggle, repositioning to keep a stick from stabbing me in the tit. His body tenses. Then he’s sliding out, pushing off me, and standing. I don’t move.

Please find your pants and go.

“Claire? You okay?”

Damnit.

“Yep, I’m good,” I try to keep my voice light. “Just going to catch my breath, and then I’ll head back.”

Bare knees enter my line of sight as he drops beside my head. Hands that ripped my thighs apart cautiously brush my bedraggled hair away from my neck. I think I hear him take a ragged inhale, but rain’s filling one ear, and the other is pressed to the ground.

Without Shane draped across me, I’m freezing. The rain that heightened the experience and made his domination so exhilarating feels miserable. Trying to hold my shivers inside has my muscles tensed. I can’t let him know how fragile I feel. I don’t want to be this vulnerable. The little voice in my head nags. He isn’t paying for you to be an emotional wreck.

“Are you sure?” He rubs my back, a cautious petting as if I’m a wounded animal. “That was kind of inten–”

“I’m good.” I pop to my feet before he can finish, giving him my best smile. I’m turning on the Hey, everything’s great, peachy keen, absolutely perfect like my life depends on it. “I’ll see you back at the house.”

The look he gives me is uncertain. At last, he moves away. Tears fill my eyes as I watch him start toward the house. I’m emotionally unsteady, trying to find my balance before heading back. A flash of lightning illuminates the world, the house looking miles away. This might be a dream, I’m not sure. It’s the heat of Shane’s cum sliding down my inner thigh that makes me feel real again. I knot bedraggled hair on top of my head. My clothing is somewhere in the woods behind me, and I don’t want to backtrack to get it, especially in the storm.

Screw it.

One shaking step at a time, I head for the house naked. The pain radiating from the bite grounds me, and I focus on it as I walk. Pain is solid, something I can cling to and use to stay upright. The storm, the orgasm, and the bite all added up to a sensory overload. Tears I’ve been trying to hold back fall, mixing with fat raindrops on my cheeks. It’s cleansing. Therapeutic. By the time I step through the back door, I feel purified.

I think I’m dreaming again when I step into my room. The lights are on, and there’s steam coming from the bathroom. I stare into the bathroom, my bathroom, where Shane is leaning over the tub, pouring something that looks like Epsom salts into the water. He’s wearing sweatpants but no shirt; his skin flushed and red from his own shower.

“What’s all this?” my voice trembles from cold, and I kick myself for sounding so weak. Not covering my breasts or trying to hide my naked body in some way feels odd. But there’s no point. He’s seen it all already. After what happened in the field, I feel like he’s seen everything. Deeper than skin, somewhere further inside that I don’t want to think about.

Shane straightens, every muscle in his back tensed. “Thought you might be cold. Sore.” He moves away from the tub and motions at something on the bathroom counter. “There’s antibiotic cream there. For your neck.”

“Thank you.” I’m not sure how else to respond. This feels like aftercare, and I don’t know what that means, whether it’s symbolic of something shifting in our relationship or just a generic kindness.

He looks at me. I think he’s as lost for words as I am. I can imagine how I look. Naked, dripping, covered in mud and grass. There’s no arousal in his expression, but there isn’t disgust either. It’s like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to figure out. Ironic, considering I feel like he’s been stealing pieces of me ever since the day with the bear. I smile and step toward the bathroom.

Don’t make this weird.

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