Page 10 of Red Flag Bull

She has no love for herself, but something she feels for me has her willing to risk all she has to provoke my intervention. From what I’ve seen, she doesn’t care if she lives or dies, she’s just trying to find the right way to end her suffering.

Is that it? Does she think I’ll end it for her, one way or another?

The thought infuses me with an intoxicating kind of power, riddled with red flags on both sides, and it worries me — how far she’ll go. How far I’ll follow.

She’s put herself in jeopardy more than a few times already, but enticing her stepdad to abuse her where she knew I’d see them… That’s the last straw. She’s wildfire. Out of control. And if I don’t step in to tame her, she’ll burn us all to ash by summer’s end.

I pull back and stare down at her, pinned to the dirt under my bloody knuckles, her expression riddled with defiance.

Apparently determined to throw her life away, she forces her strangled voice past my fingers. “Do it.”

I narrow my gaze and scrub my free hand over the scruff of my beard as I low growl escapes me.

What a fucking mess.

Her stepfather gurgles a ragged breath beside us, and I thump the ground next to her head, tighten my grip on her throat, and press her to the forest floor harder.

Did she come here to die, or to feel alive? She’s too young for one of those options.

“Do what, pretty girl?” I shift my weight, to pin her arms more securely, and then wedged my denim-clad leg between her supple thighs, to spread her bare flesh wide. “Kill you or fuck you?”

Fearful of the answer she’ll give me, I make it almost impossible for her to talk.

Her voice is strained and hard to hear over the sound of the falls in the distance, but she forces it out. “Whichever feels best.”

I scowl and hold her in place with more pressure than is necessary, until her faces flushes red and her eyes bulge. Any resistance she gives is met with strength and denial. It should scare her, but it only seems to turn her on. Her pulse grows stronger beneath my fingers, and her pussy paints my jeans with her desire when her thighs grip mine.

She moves against me, and I arch an eyebrow at her, before thrusting her legs wide again. I make allowances for her to breathe, but intermittently squeeze her throat, while I trail the fingers of my other hand down the goose-fleshed landscape of her belly, to explore the extent of her arousal.

One touch and she soaks my fingers with her slippery warmth.

I utter a soft grunt and smear her slick over her clit, circling like a vulture until her body tenses with pleasure and she’s even shorter of breath.

She fights against my firm holds, chasing the pleasure I keep purposely out of reach. The way she’s whimper-gasping to pull in air is making me light-headed.

Her struggle is beautiful to watch, and I lower my head next to hers, unable to keep from smiling. I brush my lips against her ear, and every hair I have stands on end as I whisper, “Feels best for whom?”

She doesn’t answer. Only tests my strength again.

I refuse to decide for her and counter every move in a way that steers her toward making her own choices. I lace my touch with opportunity for indulgence or deprivation and make it clear she’ll have to choose between the two.

She panics. Her eyes leave mine, searching for something. She forgets her seduction plans, and her pitiful struggling efforts turn real. I watch her sure expression fill with uncertainty, giving her the appearance of being lost. Does she not trust herself when left to her own devices?

I smother her fight-or-flight reaction with my weight, and she calms instantly. Her response makes my head swim and my cock swell thicker. I want more.

I inhale deeply and moan at the scent of her filling my nostril. I slowly graze my rough jaw along her smooth cheek and linger against her soft skin for several heartbeats.

Could we sync to the same rhythm?

I lift my head to see her face, and then glance at the bloodied man next to us. “Did you think he was going to make it feel good for you, Mandi? Is that why you offered him your cunt this time?”

She looks at Melvin too, the answer clear on her face. More pain and disappointment is what she would have suffered, if I hadn’t stepped in when I had. Not pleasure. And certainly not love.

She presses her lips together when she returns her gaze to mine. No.

I rest my forehead to hers, and our noses touch in a gentle caress, as I take the lion’s share of what little air I’m supplying her with. “Then why did you tempt that scum into the woods and offer him this precious fucking body, Princess?” I pull back to look deep into her eyes. “Do you want to be hurt and used by someone who doesn’t deserve you?”

Her eyes are plead, and hope stirs within them as she tilts her pelvis, to bloom open and meet my pleasuring fingers.

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