Page 50 of Raisa's Cursed Ravens
I tackle her.
She yelps as I pull her into the water, both of us going under in a tangle of limbs. The shock is instant, a blast of cold that wipes away the last hour, the last week, the last nineteen years.
We surface together, gasping and flailing. She’s still laughing, even when I pin her to the bank, her back pressed to a slick slab of moss and her thighs locked around my hips.
I kiss her.
It’s not a sweet kiss. It’s not even a gentle one. It’s the kind that bruises lips, that makes teeth click, and breath catch. She tastes like river water and something sharp and new.
She kisses me back, hard. Her hands clutch my shirt, dragging me closer, her fingers digging into my skin. I let her. I want her to leave more marks.
When I pull away, she’s panting, her eyes wild and hungry. “You’re insane,” she says.
“So are you.” I bite her jaw.
She shivers, but it’s not from cold or fear.
I hike her further up onto the bank, laying her out fully on the moss. She watches, breathless, as I strip my shirt off, then hers. The wet fabric clings to her skin, but I peel it away, hungry for every inch.
She’s marked up and down, bites, bruises, a constellation of freckles on her left shoulder. I run my tongue over the bruises, then down to her collarbone and the swell of her breast. She arches into my mouth, her fingers threading my hair, urging me lower.
I want to devour her.
I slip her pants down over her hips instead, baring the soft, pale flesh beneath. She gasps as the air hits her, but she doesn’t fight. She just spreads her legs, showing me everything.
“You want this?” I ask, my voice a whisper of doubt that she could want me still.
She nods, her eyes wide and dark.
“Say it.”
“I want you,” she says. “Now. Always. Please.”
I push my fingers inside her, slow at first, feeling how wet and ready she is.
She moans, grinding up against my hand.
I fuck her with my fingers, my thumb circling her clit, until she’s whimpering and begging, her hips lifting off the moss with every thrust.
I pull my own pants down, my cock already hard, the veins standing out like roots, and line up at her entrance, the head of my cock slick with her juices.
I push in, slow, stretching her wide.
She cries out, but it’s not pain. It’s relief. It’s hunger.
I set a rhythm, deep and slow this time, driving her into the moss with every thrust. Her legs wrap around my waist, herankles crossing at my back. She meets me stroke for stroke, no fear, no hesitation.
Every time I go deeper, her eyes roll back, her mouth falling open in a gasp.
“Fuck,” I groan, the word torn from somewhere deep.
She clenches around me, her muscles fluttering.
I fuck her slow, so slow her moans turn to screams. I cover her mouth with mine, swallowing every sound. She bucks under me, her nails leaving new trails down my back, before she clamps down, her whole body tensing as she comes.
The heat of it rips through me, and I slam into her, over and over, until I explode, filling her so full it runs down her thighs.
We lie there afterward, tangled in each other, panting and shivering.
