Page 17 of Room 13: Bred By the Bears

Even more concerting? Ilikedit. I’d enjoyed myself at dinner. I loved discussing art and design with Obi and Ryker over lunch at the hotel. And the dirty rendezvous Ryker and I had in the hotel bathroom? Jesus. I still hadn’t recovered. My brain couldn’t wrap a thought around the tawdry yet deeply satisfying encounter. How I should be disgusted with what we’d done, whathe’ddonetome. Yet I just wanted more. Hours of it. Fantasies titivated my conscious thought all day with every, disgusting, vile thing I’d read about or seen over the years that I wanted to try with the three of them. It was because of him. Or all of them really. But Ryker’s self-assured, sexual prowess was not only attractive but addicting.

I came to a split in the footpaths behind the club. Both were dimly lit, so neither was an area off limits, one under the cover of the long-fingered fig trees, and the other wound even deeper up the grassy knolls, banking into the unknown. I chose the latter, picking up my pace to a mild jog. I was more of a Pilates kind of girl, but I could still maintain the pace with a steady breath.

I was just patting myself on the back for my athletic stamina when I heard it. The first snap of twig and heavy footfalls rapidly approaching. The skin along my spine skittered, sending bolts of panic to my brain and out to my limbs. There was a scream fighting to escape my throat as I picked up the pace and shot off to a small clearing to my left. It looped back around to where I’d just come, under the cover of large boulders and a few pecan trees.

My breath came out in loud, heavy pants. No matter how hard I tried to steady them, the wild thump of my pulse refused to calm enough to allow my lungs to expand and take in more air. Limbs burning, everything in my physical body begged me to stop, to slow down, catch my breath. There was nowhere to hide though. Not a thick tree trunk or a rock large enough to provide ample cover. I had to keep moving, no matter how much my body wanted me to give up the fight.

I could feel Armel’s eyes on me. It was too dark for me to see anything. Every time I twisted my head to look over my shoulder, I could only see darkness and trees. But every hair on my body stood in response tosomethingbeing nearby. That something, I knew, was him. The stealth hunter.

Within seconds, my feet were taken out from under me, and I rolled gracelessly along the soft grass to an undignified stop. Armel’s check pressed against my back. His hands spreading my legs apart, pawing at my slit through the cotton of my shorts. I kicked and shoved against his weight, trying to wiggle out from under him.

“Too late, Little Cub.” He grunted into my ear, pulling my hips up into mounting position. “You put up a decent fight. I thought you’d make me work harder than that.”

It was the opportunity I’d been waiting for. With a ferocious howl, I kicked off his chest, pressing back into a standing position and shooting off into the dark of the forest at a full run. I heard him growl in frustration behind me, felt his heavy footfalls rushing to catch up with me. Through the forest I zig zagged, cutting left and right blindly, giving chase as best I could. Somehow, without realizing it, I’d looped around in a huge circle, and ran right into Armel who once again tackled me to the ground.

“Won’t make that mistake twice.” He chuckled, taking my hands in his and pressing them into the soft dirt. “Keep fighting me. I love working for it.”

twelve

I was out of practice.Off my game. Miele didn’t need to know that though. I was embarrassed to admit how long it took me to track her. The effort I’d expelled in bringing her down. But now that she was beneath me and I could feel the beast inside of me desperate to take over torutandfuckall of the aching muscles and labored breaths were worth the heady satisfaction of knowing I had my little prey beneath me and she was seconds away from that magical second when she knew she was caught and she surrendered.

I longed for it. Wanted to drink that surrender like the finest wine. I flipped her over so her face rest against the soft ground, her arms above her, her pussy pressed flat against the ground and that bubble butt of hers proudly on display in the cotton spandex shorts.

“Up.” I slapped her ass, biting my lip against how hard that delicious jiggle makes me. “I want to see your seam.”

I held her by the hips while she scrambled to get her feet braced enough to move herself into a mount position. And mount her I would, eventually.

“Obi will teach you all the proper terms. Present. Display. Mount. But right now, I just want to see that slit.”

I shoved my face between her legs, biting at the seam of cotton that held the shorts together. They were cheaply made. I bought them at Walmart for less than five dollars. Two focused bites and the fabric split, quickly unraveling to expose exactly what I wanted to see. She bucked against my hold, trying to pull and thrash. Kicking her legs wildly, unable to collect enough purchase under her bare feet to launch from her position and take off again.

It was too dark, of course, to suss out how she looked but I knew, by scent alone, her cunt was soaked. I slapped her ass with enough force that the crack echoed through the quiet of the woods. Despite her yelp, she shoved that ass back against my face, as if to beg me to do it again.

“You like this far too much, Little Cub.”

I ran my fingers up and down through that wet path, slapping the other cheek and leaving a matching hand print. Instead of the yelp I expected, she hung her head between her shoulders and let out a long, low moan. My cock twitched in response, shooting an angry rope of pre-cum into my boxers as if to punish me for taking too long teasing our meal.

Her wide hips were a perfect resting place for my palms. From what I remembered from the previous evening, she was wonderfully pale. Like fresh poured cream. I held her with a firm grip, and ran my nose through her warm wet, scenting her. The salty tang of her sweat mixed with that ripe pussy was a delicacy I refused to deny myself for a moment longer. Her surprised gasp part of the symphony of her surrender.

Her slick coated my face, seeped into my beard and mustache, and wrapped me in her scent like a hedonistic scarf. I licked her from her sensitive little clit to her asshole, angry once again that Ryker got to her first. I wanted to hear her shocked gasp, feel her embarrassed squirm when I took her out her and claimed her entrance into debaucherous pleasure.

“You let Ryker claim what was mine.” I tell her, spitting on that winking hole and pressing both of my thumbs into it. “I called dibs. Did you not hear me call dibs?”

I barely crested the first uncooperative ring. Collecting as much of her own lubrication as I could, I worked my thumbs around that hole, coaxing it open further. My asshole clenched in response. As if it too felt the intrusive push of my questing thumb.

“Tell me, little one. Do you remember?”

“No.” Her voice shook, pleasure tinging it with gravel as she pressed up into my hands. The seductive song of her response wrapped itself around my psyche. Pushing me further. Twisting me with dark want and desperate need.

“No you don’t remember or no, Ryker didn’t claim your asshole.”

“Both. He…” I heard her wet her lips before speaking a second time. “He just…lickedmethere.”

The words were a single note above a whisper. It was as if they floated in front of us, italicized from the weight of embarrassment she felt speaking them out loud. I’d make her say it every single day until she begged for this. Until there wasn’t any shame surrounding asking us to unlock the anteroom of her most perverse desires. I drank her embarrassment like the most expensive whisky. Savoring each drop like the honeyed promise it was.

“So you remember, now,” I threatened, licking my finger and shoving it all the way in with a firm press, “Iown the claim of pressing my cock in. No one fucks this hole but me. Say you understand.”

There were four long beats as her hips circled in search of my fingers, rolling against the intrusion of my finger, pressing against the pads that danced across her clit. I give her a bit more of both, and I feel the first shaking tendrils of her building orgasm.

---