Page 19 of Nowhere to Run

No.

His belt.

With one arm he held his body up, pinning me effortlessly beneath him. The other hand seamlessly worked his jeans.

My ass pressed into his groin, heat radiating through the thick denim.

A single tear rolled down my cheek as the realization spread.

I was his.

His to do whatever he wanted with. He was going to take me right here, on the forest floor.

“Turn over,” he hissed, his voice thick with hunger.

“I want you to look at me.”

He pulled off his jacket, unzipped his hoodie, placing it under me as I turned, the movement surprisingly gentle. Deceptively so.

“Don’t want you to get cold,” he explained.

“How sweet of you,” I spat, my pulse still racing wildly from the exertion. Between the adrenaline coursing through my body and the rage burning through me, I was anything but cold. My eyes met his with defiance. I wanted him to see it. To know I didn’t want this. That this was all against my will.

Yet my pussy throbbed, excitement coiling in my core, anticipation simmering. My body was a fucking traitor.

His gaze dragged over my face, unreadable and intense.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, stroking my cheek with the back of his fingers in a featherlight touch. His lips were slightly parted, his face flushed from the run. And his eyes—dangerous, dark, yet somehow soulful—bored into mine as if searching for something deeper.

Something I refused to give him.

Looking at him for too long stirred feelings I didn’t want to acknowledge. A heat I couldn’t afford to feel. I forced my gaze away, summoning the anger I desperately needed to keep the storm of emotions at bay. He was about to take everything from me. I needed to hate him.

He slipped his jeans down past his knees, revealing the full length of his arousal. He knelt before me, his cock hard in his hand. He stroked it, fire burning in his eyes as he looked me over.

I was trapped tight between his powerful thighs. Pinned down. Even if I could move—what was the use? If I ran, he’d catch me again. He always would. He was a predator.

And I was just a weak little doe.

A shiver coiled through me as he stroked himself, his gaze locked onto mine.

“Do you like fairy tales, little girl?” His voice was almost gentle, laced with dark amusement.

My breath hitched.

His lips curled into a mock pout, his condescension hitting me like a slap.

“I’m sorry this one doesn’t have a happy ending. At least… not for you.”

My stomach tightened.

“Unless, of course…” He sighed, as if indulging some cruel thought. “You end up liking it.”

His lip twitched, a half-smile forming. It was too knowing, too confident. Rage flared hot in my chest. I hated that he saw right through me.

“This time,” he murmured, gripping himself tighter, stroking slowly, savoring the moment. “The wolf gets his prize.”

A slow, primal thrill coursed through my body.

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