Page 20 of Lost to the Woods

“Oh yeah?” His fingers stroke deep, slow, making me squirm. “That’s why your cunt is weeping for me?”

He pulls out suddenly, and I shudder at the loss. Then he brings his fingers to my lips, pressing against them, prying them open.

“Taste yourself,” he orders. His voice is lower now, darker. “Taste how fucking bad you want me.”

A flutter in my stomach. A pang between my legs. My tongue flicks out, licking his fingers clean.

He grips my face, hard, running his thumb against my wet lips. I automatically suck it inside my mouth, swirling my tongue around it. That breathy, wrecked‘fuck’that slips past his lips makes me smirk.

And then his other hand cuts the air and lands on my ass with a smack, the sting sending a sharp jolt of heat straight to my core. I’m once again reminded we’re in public, where everyone can see.

I glance around frantically, half-expecting someone to be staring at us, but no one seems to notice. Not yet.

“You’re mine, little bunny,” he growls, fingers digging into my flesh. “Every inch of you. And I’ll break you if I have to, just to make sure you never forget it.”

“I sure won’t forget it when we get arrested,” I snap back, trying to regain some semblance of control.

“Don’t try to be smart with me.”

“Or?”

“Or I’ll discipline you right here, right now,” he mutters, but finally lets me go. He wraps an arm around my waist, guiding me down the sidewalk like he hasn’t just had his fingers inside me, like he hasn’t just made me yearn for him in the middle of the main street.

And then I see it.

Oh fuck.

A sheriff’s car is rolling toward us, slow, almost too slow. Checking us out.

My stomach plummets.

I hope Mark didn’t call the cops after all.

Maybe it was someone else from the diner?

I don’t know why I care so much about Ghost if I could go to jail for public sex because of that idiot.

The car stops parallel to us, and the sheriff rolls down the window. “Everything okay here?”

I feel Ghost’s arm tighten around me, the shift in his stance almost imperceptible. Then he pulls up his mask.

“All good, sir,” he says smoothly.

I can’t see his face because I’m behind him, but the sheriff’s eyes widen slightly. A flicker of something passes over his face, and then, just like that, he nods and drives off.

I exhale sharply, my pulse still racing. “Um, what was that?” I’m too flustered to process what the hell just happened.

Ghost turns to me, his mask back in place, unreadable. “What?” He shrugs like it’s nothing. “You just dodged a night in jail. You’re welcome.”

I snort. “And whose fault would that be, huh?”

But I can’t think straight.

Because my legs are still shaking. Because I can still feel his fingers between my thighs, his breath on my skin. Because I don’t know what the fuck he’s doing to me.

And worse…

I wantmore.

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