Page 46 of The Fire Went Wild

He bottoms out again, and I scream in pain and pleasure, my voice echoing up into the trees.

“So do I,” he whispers into my ear.

And then he starts to fuck me for real, his thrusts firm and fast, one hand around my throat and the other spreading my leg wide so there’s room for him between my thighs.

And I love it. I love every second of it. I fuck him back as best I can, rolling my hips in time with each of his sharp thrusts. I can’t think about what any of this means, that I’m letting this murderer and kidnapper fuck me. That he’s about to make me come again—and this time, I can’t even claim that I didn’t want it.

“You’re so wet for me,” he rasps, and there’s a kind of wonderment in his voice, his breath warm on my ear.

I don’t respond, just arch my back like I can pull him deeper into my body. My arms ache from holding them overhead. His hand around my throat is almost uncomfortably firm. His cock is splitting me in two.

And I don’t want any of it to end.

“Say something,” he orders, plowing into me. “Tell me why you’re so wet.”

I groan, legs trembling. He tightens his fingers and I lift my gaze to him, daring him to keep going.

“Is this why?” he whispers, squeezing my throat a little tighter. Tight enough that it’s hard to breathe. Tight enough that the pleasure consuming me from the inside out burns that much hotter.

“No,” I spit out, which isn’t exactly true.

He grunts and thrusts into me harder, slamming my spine up against the tree. The smooth, damp bark rubs against my bareass. The quickly-drying blood seems to glue our bodies together. And I slide closer and closer to coming.

“Well?” Jaxon pants, each word punctuated by the searing heat of his cock. “Why are you so wet for me?”

I hook my leg around him and drag him up against my belly. He groans and kisses me, his tongue plunging into my mouth, his teeth snagging on my bottom lip. His other hand joins the first, his long artist’s fingers wrapping around my neck and squeezing until my vision goes black at the edges and stars dance across the night.

“Thought you—“ I choke out, trembling and shaking and rolling my hips so my clit rubs against the base of his big cock. “Thought you—can’t kill me?—”

“I’m not going to kill you.” His eyes flash. “I’m going to make you come.”

I whimper, although the noise strangles in my constricted throat.

He is going to make me come. I can feel it, the pressure building around my neck and in my clit, and I jerk my hips against him, as desperate for release as I am for air. All I can see is Jaxon’s blood-spattered face; his wild, fiery eyes; his twisted, grinning mouth.

“Come for me,” he snarls, tightening his hands around my throat. “Come on, cher. I want to feel this pussy co?—”

It hits me all at once, an onslaught of deliciously painful pleasure. My entire body convulses, and Jaxon loosens his grip around my throat. As soon as the air fills my lungs I proclaim my ecstasy with a scream that would be indistinguishable if he were killing me.

I’m barely aware of what’s happening. There’s only pleasure and breath and Jaxon’s thick cock still slamming up into my pussy. Then, suddenly, there’s not even that, because Jaxon’s wrenched himself out of me. I start to protest—my pussy’s stillcontracting wildly from my orgasm—but Jaxon puts his hand on the top of my head and shoves me down so I’m kneeling on the soft, wet ground.

I’m eye-level with his cock, swollen and wet and gleaming.

“Open,” he orders, jerking my head back by my hair, and I’m so drunk and delirious from that monster of an orgasm that I do exactly as he says. He groans as his cum erupts out in thick spurts, coating my tongue and lips with a thick, pungent saltiness. Then, as roughly as he pushed me down, he drags me back up, using my hair as a handle, and kisses me, swirling his tongue over mine. Tasting himself. Tasting me.

It’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever done.

Then, abruptly, he pulls away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. For all his searing eye contact while he was inside me, now he seems—almost embarrassed. He ducks his head, his hair falling across his face, and he looks out at the dark, shivery swamp. He’s a shadow in the darkness.

I swallow what’s left of his cum and wipe my lips, still feeling breathless and lightheaded. But I also feel cautious. On guard.

Jaxon mutters something.

“What’s that?” The question comes out smaller than I intended.

He looks over at me like a startled deer. “Nothing.”

I fuss with my dress, rearranging the skirt around my sticky, blood-streaked thighs. Jaxon’s watching me, something I feel more than I actually see. “You said something,” I tell him. “It wasn’t nothing.”

---