Page 123 of Role Play
“Look at me,” he demands as he positions himself at my entrance. “I want to see your eyes when I fill you for the first time.”
I obey, locking my gaze with his as he pushes forward in one long, slow thrust that steals the breath from my lungs. The stretch is delicious, my body too tense at first, then slowly adjusting to accommodate his size. I can feel every inch of him, hot and hard.
“Fuck,” he groans when he’s fully seated. “You feel incredible.”
For a moment, neither of us moves, savoring the connection. I can feel his heartbeat through our joined bodies, racing in timewith my own. The night seems to have gone completely silent around us, as if nature itself is holding its breath.
Then he begins to withdraw almost completely before driving back in, establishing a rhythm that has me wincing in pleasure with each thrust. The sensation is…too much, and not enough. The fullness, the friction, the knowledge that it’s him inside me, claiming me in the most animalistic way possible.
“Harder,” I beg, tightening my legs around him. “Please, fuck. Yes, I need—” I stop, unable to finish my thought. I don’t know what I need except for this to never end.
He responds by doubling his efforts, his hips snapping against mine with increasing force. The bark of the tree scratches against my back, but the slight discomfort only enhances the pleasure, grounding me in the reality of the moment. The sound of our bodies coming together, skin against skin, fills the clearing, punctuated by our ragged breathing.
“All fucking mine,” he growls against my neck, underscoring the declaration with a particularly deep thrust. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I gasp, the words feeling like both surrender and victory.
He shifts his angle slightly, and suddenly he’s hitting a spot inside me that fires electricity up my spine. I cry out, my bound hands clutching desperately at his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh through his shirt.
“That’s it,” he encourages, maintaining the new angle. “Now, baby. Come for me. Coat me.”
The tension builds to an almost unbearable peak, and then I’m falling, crashing over the edge with an intensity that has me singing his name in worship like a hymn. Wave after wave of pleasure rolls through me, until I’m left trembling and boneless in his arms.
Forrest doesn’t slow his pace, chasing his own release. Overly satiated, I’m a rag doll in his hands, and he has no problemusing me. His rhythm becomes more erratic, his breathing harsh against my skin. His hands grip my thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh, probably leaving marks that I’ll discover tomorrow with secret satisfaction.
“Inside or out?” he manages to ask, ever the gentleman even in the midst of our feral encounter.
“Inside,” I whisper, wanting to claim him in a way of my own.
With a final, powerful thrust, he buries himself to the hilt and finds his release, his body shuddering against mine. I feel the hot pulse of him deep inside, marking me in the most intimate way possible. His forehead drops to my shoulder, his breath coming in ragged gasps against my skin.
For several moments, we stay locked together, both of us breathing hard, coming down from the height of pleasure. The night air cools our overheated skin, raising goose bumps along my exposed flesh. The distant hoot of an owl reminds me that we’re outdoors, exposed, vulnerable—yet I’ve never felt safer than in his arms.
Slowly, carefully, he lowers my feet back to the ground, supporting me until he’s sure my legs will hold. They feel like liquid, barely capable of supporting my weight, and I lean heavily against him as he zips and buckles, righting himself.
The shift in his demeanor is immediate and striking. Gone is the dominant, possessive lover, replaced by tender concern as he gently removes the handcuffs.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice soft as he massages my wrists where the metal had rested. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
I shake my head, still too breathless for words. My mind feels pleasantly fuzzy, my body humming with satisfied energy.
He helps me back into my leggings, covering my exposed skin with careful attention. His fingers linger, almost reverent, as they roll the stretchy fabric back into place. Then he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the remnants of my underwear.
“Souvenir,” he says with a slight smirk, tucking the torn fabric away. “Sorry about that.”
“No, you’re not.” I laugh, finally finding my voice.
“You’re right, I’m not.” He kisses my forehead, gentle now. “But I am sorry if I got carried away.”
“Don’t be. That was…” I search for the right word. “Enlightening.”
His chuckle is low and warm, vibrating through his chest against my cheek. “Enlightening? Sure.”
“It was,” I defend, feeling my strength returning gradually. “I finally understand the appeal of dark romance. It’s not about the fear itself—it’s about the surrender, the trust. It’s about knowing someone could hurt you, but trusting they won’t. About giving up control and finding freedom in that release.”
“The surrender,” he echoes, his fingers tracing the curve of my cheek. “I like that.”
Before I can say more, he scoops me up into his arms, cradling me against his chest. Dipping back down, he tells me to collect my boots in my hands. “I rented a car for the day. I’m carrying you back to the parking lot. Don’t argue.”
