Page 48 of Raisa's Cursed Ravens
I tear at the twine holding her pants, yanking them down just enough to expose her before I stand, unbuttoning my pants.
She reaches for me, impatient. Our hands get tangled, both of us too desperate to bother with finesse. I shove my pants down just enough, then lift her with a grunt, bracing her against the tree.
She wraps her legs around me, her ankles locking at my lower back. For a second, I just hold her, forehead to forehead, the two of us shaking.
“I need you,” she whispers.
I line myself up and push in, slow at first, savoring the way she opens for me. Her heat is like a fist of ecstasy around my cock.
Her head tips back with a groan that makes the birds go silent. The bark bites her skin, my arms caging her in. The whole world narrows to the slick heat where our bodies meet.
She’s so fucking wet I can barely keep from blowing the second I’m inside, so I grit my teeth and move slow at first, just to draw it out, just to punish myself for all the craving.
But she won’t have it. She digs her nails into my shoulders—ten sharp little warning shots—and then rakes them down, hard, through the thin cotton of my shirt and into my skin. I feel the sting, the wetness, the hot lick of blood.
It drives me into a frenzy.
I piston my hips, rough and deep, until she’s gasping, clawing, her jaw slack and eyes wild.
“Harder,” she chokes. There’s no fear in her voice. None. Just need.
I give it to her. I fuck her so hard the tree shakes, so hard my teeth rattle in my skull. I want her to feel this all the way to hermarrow. I want every living thing in the forest to know who she belongs to.
She bites my lip when I kiss her. The sharpness of her teeth knocks loose a groan from somewhere deep.
I grab her thigh, spreading her wider, fucking her harder. She takes it, every inch, meeting every thrust with her own.
My hands tangle in her hair, pulling her head back so I can lick the sweat from her neck, taste the salt and heat and blood. My cock is steel, my blood a riot. All I can see—all I want—is her coming apart for me.
She’s close. I feel it in the way her cunt flutters around me, the way her breath goes ragged. I reach down, my thumb rough on her clit, and she bucks, nearly breaking my hold.
She screams, a sound so raw and satisfied that it cuts through the trees.
It pushes me over.
I slam into her, my hips grinding, filling her until I’m empty, until the only thing left is the two of us shaking against the tree, breathing like beasts.
She collapses against my chest, her head on my shoulder, her hair in my mouth. Her hands are shaking, but she doesn’t let go.
I don’t, either.
Eventually, I feel likeI can breathe again, but I can’t look at her. I fucked a princess like an animal, and a big part of me doesn’t even regret it.
Shame claws through me, as sharp as a blade.
I help her dress again, not meeting her gaze, afraid of seeing condemnation or revulsion there. My hands shake again as I tie up the torn edges of Bran’s shirt.
“We have to go,” I say once she’s covered. “They’ll send more.”
She wipes her palms on her pants. “Not yet.”
“What do you mean?”
She points up the ridge. “The buck is still out there. I won’t leave it to rot. That’s not what you taught me.”
I want to argue. I want to shout at her for risking her life over an animal that’s already dead. I want to rip the trees from the ground until I’m too exhausted to feel the guilt eating me alive.
But I don’t.
