Page 20 of Nowhere to Run

Not fear. Something worse.

Anticipation.

I willed my arm to move, to strike him, scratch him, anything.

But he felt it, sensed the shift before I’d even moved.

His grip at my thighs tightened—wordless and warning.

I froze.

His smirk deepened.

“Sorry, princess.” His voice was low, almost soothing. “You’re stuck.”

A shudder rippled through me as he yanked my yoga pants down past my knees in one rough motion. A growl rumbled deep in his chest as he hooked a finger under my thong, dragging it to the side and baring me to the cool night air.

His breath hitched. Then—another sound. A guttural, satisfied hum as his finger traced the softness of my lower belly, trailing downward toward my clit.

“No,” he hissed, stopping just before reaching my most sensitive spot. “I’m not going to warm you up. You’re going to feel me. Take this cock unprepared.”

My breath came fast and shallow, my mouth falling open as the anticipation that had been building turned sharp, coiling into something closer to fear.

He leaned back onto his heels, peeling his T-shirt off in one fluid motion and tossing it aside. Moonlight slipped through the trees, casting silver over his skin, his rippling muscles, and those dark inked tattoos.

Here, in the wild, he looked even more imposing.

More dangerous.

My heart stuttered, betraying me. I clenched my jaw, cursing under my breath.

“Like what you see?” he taunted.

“I don’t,” I spat through gritted teeth, even as my traitorous body pulsed—simultaneously aching for him and dreading the sharp, intense pain I knew was coming. I squeezed my thighs shut, a last, futile act of defiance.

His smirk twisted into something darker. Something primal.

A snarl.

“Open those fucking legs.”

A shudder ran through me as I obeyed, heat pooling low in my belly.

His fist stroked over his cock, slow, deliberate, his eyes never leaving mine.

“So… what do you say, Little Red?”

I furrowed my brow.

What was he asking?

His gaze flickered with amusement.

“You don’t remember the story?” he teased, his voice dripping with condescension. He stroked himself again, his grip tightening as he watched me.

And then it clicked. His twisted game, his fantasy.

I swallowed hard, forcing air into my lungs, but it wasn’t enough. My body felt too small, powerless. Like I was shrinking under his gaze.

---