Page 43 of Take Me

I can’t tell if I want this anymore; I can’t tell if it really is him. My mind is wrought with the need to find out, but it’s no use. So I give up. I give in to the cloudy haze and let primal desire take my body.

A deep groan rumbles in his chest as he senses the moment I give in. He goes still, pausing with the head of his cock just inside my opening. And then he slams inside. So hard I dig my nails into the tree as I buck back. I cry out, but the sound dies in his hand.

“Don’t say a fucking word.” He releases my mouth, and the forest fills with my screams and moans—the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. He keeps pounding, sending shock waves through my core, into my body, making me spasm and writhe.

“Don’t come,” he growls and bites into my neck, awakening new waves of sensation. Pain mixing with pleasure. Pleasure mixing with pain.

Pulling out, he throws me to the ground, stomach-down. Flashes of brown boots and green hunting pants flicker in my vision. A rifle tossed aside on the ground. Then something wet runs down between my ass cheeks. Spit, I realize at anotherpfftsound.

The only protest I manage is a long, plaintive moan as he drags his cock through the moisture and positions himself against my narrow opening. My breath comes in heavy pants as he starts pressing. I shake my head against the ground.He’s too big.It doesn’t matter how well Mikhail has trained me; there’s no way I’m taking this man without tearing. But my ass isn’t all Mikhail has trained. Even as my mind is reeling from flashes of panic, I can’t protest. Because deep down, I want this. I want to be taken by force—taken by competent hands and have my body reduced to an object.

And most of all, I want this: unmerciful, unrelenting possession. I want to beowned.

Something happens as he wraps his strong hand around my nape, pinning me to the ground as he starts the slow process of pushing inside me. My brain tells me to fight, but something familiar and safe tugs at me, blending with the submission that has become second nature at the terrifyingly competent hands of Mikhail. I don’twantto fight. I want to give in. Feel the sweet peace of giving up myself to another person.

So I do just that. I slump as I let go, slackening my muscles and allowing him to advance. I pant hard as he presses past my tight ring of muscle. His wide size burns against my narrow walls, but the pain mixes with a crackling sensation as all my sensitive nerves down there spark to life.

I tremble beneath him as he sinks deeper into me, every inch a testament to his power and my surrender.

His growl reverberates through the night, a primal declaration of conquest—the hunter having caught his prey. Leaning over me, he traps me beneath his weight as he starts fucking me, hard and unrelenting. I cling to the earth, digging my fingers into the soil to seek purchase through the violent storm that threatens to tear my world apart, or maybe mend it.

I don’t know; I can’t see anything through the storm of his possession. It wraps around my mind, blurs my world, and coils at my core with licks of fire circling each other, faster and faster, into a whirlwind about to explode.

He grows impossibly hard inside me, and I squeeze my eyes shut as my sensitive tissues burn around him. But the pain does nothing to hinder the blast of desire. If anything, it adds to it.

“Come,” he demands, just as he shoots his cum inside me, marking me in the most primal of ways. I crash over the edge, screaming into the night as I buck into him.

Resting his weight on his elbows on each side of my face, he leans down and pebbles tiny kisses across my neck. Shivers scurry down my arms, and I crane my neck to allow him better access. I want to stay here forever, safely nestled into the shield of his strong body.

But when he withdraws and I lose his warmth, it’s like an icy gust of wind, shuddering through my bones and sending painful clarity to my mind.

I have no idea who this man is. He’s not Nikolai. I’m only imagining things. And if I don’t get away, I will get sold off to a stranger. Maybe this one, maybe someone else. I have no idea, and I can’t take that chance. So I stagger to my feet, glancing behind me to see the back of a tall, broad figure as he pulls something out of a bag. Maybe a blanket. I don’t know; I don’t care. This is my final shot, so I take it.

I bolt forward, struggling to make my heavy limbs comply and shaking from the last ripples of the orgasm.

Heavy steps pound behind me as he gives chase, and I whimper as I put in all my strength, my lungs burning with exertion. I keep going even knowing I don’t stand a chance in living hell. He’s right behind me. At any moment, he’ll snatch me and throw me to the ground.

But it doesn’t happen.

I whip my head back when I realize the thuds of his steps are gone. And he’s gone too. All I see are trees. I keep going, almost slamming into trunks as I whip my head from side to side, expecting him to jump me from the side.

My energy quickly fades, and fear becomes a vise around my chest, keeping my breaths shallow and painful even as I slow down. I stop to catch my breath. I have to, or I’ll collapse and become a sitting duck.

Pressing my sweaty palms to my knees, I lean forward, panting. Movement at the edges of my vision makes me look up. I’m about to set off again when something moves between the trees. But then I see the swish of a fluffy tail. Something red. A white tip.

I freeze as I gaze into the low bushes. The moon casts its pale light through the treetops, lighting up the small clearing I’m standing in. A slow wind rustles through the forest, and an owl hoots in the distance.

It’s peaceful. Quiet.

The red fur moves, and then I see it. A beautiful fox appears between the trees, coming straight toward me.

It sniffs the ground, the black nose twitching as the tail swishes above the moss. Then it looks up and stops as it sees me.

I hold my breath as I stare into the eyes of the beautiful creature. I’ve always dreamed about seeing a fox in more than flashes of red disappearing into the night. And here it is, on this fateful night.

I usually don’t believe in signs, but this must be one. How can it not?

The fox lowers itself to its hind legs, curling the tail around itself as it watches me. I carefully move a hand from my thigh, and it remains. So I move the other as well, wanting to sink to my knees too.

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