by Pam Godwin
She hums into my mouth. “I hate the way Sara Gilly looks at you in the cafeteria.” Her nails bite into my shoulders. “And when you walk down the hall, they all stare at your ass.”
“Who?”
“Courtney, Rosie, Shannon, Tina—”
“Not true.” I know she’s right, but none of those girls compare to the one on my lap.
“They all want a piece of you, and Lord knows there’s plenty to go around.” She pushes a hand between us and strokes the rigid shape of me through the jeans. “I can’t believe you’re going to put this inside me.”
I search her face, but I already know I won’t find vulnerability there.
My girl is sunshine, rawhide, and pure fight. Whether she’s herding cattle, playing guitar, or losing her virginity, she’s going to put on those square toes and wrangle the challenge with radiance and toughness.
Barnabe arrives at the ravine, and I dismount. Conor moves to follow, but I pat her thigh, signaling her to stay. She’s barefoot, and I have some things to set up.
A shallow creek gurgles between the steep cliffs, loud enough to drown out the crunch of gravel beneath my boots. It’s peaceful here, private and dark thanks to the canopy of trees.
I remove a blanket bundle from the saddle and unroll it on a bald spot between the rock wall and a large tree.
“What are you up to?” She leans across Barnabe’s back and props her chin on a curled hand.
Unabashedly, gloriously, distractingly naked from the waist up, she watches me with a foxy smile. Definitely trying to kill me.
“You’ll see.” I light a small lantern from the bundle.
I waited until nightfall to discourage ranch hands from wandering this way, but there’s no way I’m having sex with her in the dark. I need to see every inch of her nudity and the beautiful look on her face when I push inside her.
With the blanket spread in the ring of light, I return to her and lift her from the saddle. She clutches me tight in a cage of arms and legs, and her lips find mine with startling urgency.
I sink into the kiss and weave a hand through her hair as I carry her toward the blanket. Given the tangled frenzy of our tongues, it feels like I’m carrying ten years of pent-up desire.
She tastes and looks sinfully erotic, but there’s an alluring innocence about her. If she only knew all the depraved ways I’ve imagined defiling her body. I don’t want to go slow. I want to tear her open with ruthless thrusts. I want to hold her down and fuck her mouth. I want to tie her up and fuck her ass. I want to take her places I can’t even let myself think about because it scares the hell out of me.
I won’t hurt her, though. Not during our first time. But someday…
Someday, she’ll tremble beneath me, so turned on and out of her mind she’ll beg me to punish her.
We have our entire lives to work up to that, and I have endless patience.
I lower her to the blanket and, without taking my gaze off hers, I remove my hat, shirt, and belt. Her hands fly to my zipper, stroking against my cock in her hurry to strip me.
“Hold up, girl.” I pin her wrists above her head and lean over her. “Keep that up and this’ll be over in sixty seconds. I want it to last.”
“I want you.” Her plump lips pout the husky words.
With a groan, I settle my hips in the V of her thighs and cover her with my weight.
“You want this.” I drive the length of my hard-on along the crotch of her shorts. “Feel it. Imagine it ripping you open.”
I don’t expect her to be scared or overwhelmed. Maybe a little bit hesitant? But she’s not even that. She’s breathless and impatient, trying to work her hands free from my hold to get to me.
“Let me touch you.” She arches her back, rubbing her beautiful tits against my chest. “Come on, Jake. Don’t make me wait.”
She’s going to wait, because that’s what I want. To be in control, push her limits, and bend her to my will—it’s what I crave. But tonight, I’ll disguise my darker desires as sweet, playful teasing.
I slide off her shorts and panties, exposing her nude form in the lantern’s soft glow. Fair skin, perky tits, slender hips, and an auburn triangle that leads to the wet seam of my destination—her flawless body deserves a lifetime of attention.
The scent of her pussy intoxicates the air as I shower her with devotion. My fingers worship. My eyes invade. My mouth devours. By the time I’ve licked her from mouth to slit and back again, she’s writhing, drenched between her legs, and panting with full-body tremors.
With my hands busy, I haven’t been able to stop her from grabbing and pulling at me. She wants to rush this, and I want to command every orchestrated second of it. I know the moment I crawl over her she’ll shove those greedy fingers into my pants and steal my control.
But I have a solution for that, inspired by some taboo videos I sought out online. There’s something undeniably arousing about bondage. It touches me deeply, stirring secret, indecent thoughts like nothing else.
Apparently, some women like to be restrained, and I get serious wood thinking about doing it. I know rope. I know knots. And I know Conor.
Reaching for the last item from the bundle, I lift a coil of rope and unravel it with shaking hands. The thought of her trussed up and defenseless makes me want to blow my load.
“What’re you gonna do with that?” She wings up an auburn eyebrow. “Wrangle me like a cow?”
“Nah.” I jerk my chin at the solid tree trunk near her head. “See that tree? I’m going to tie your hands to it and fuck you till we both pass out.”
I look her in the eyes as she examines my face up and down, side to side. Her gaze is restless, searching. She knows me, loves me, and it’s all there, open and unfiltered, in her flushed cheeks. She glows with arousal. And total, utter trust.
“Give me your hands.” Just issuing the command makes my dick throb.
She holds up her arms, her eye contact as captivating as her obedience.
I lace her wrists together with swift movements. “I love you.”
“Love you, too.” She purses her lips. “I’d love you a whole lot more if you were naked.”
“I’ll give it to you when I’m ready.” I want her so badly I’m damn near punching a hole through my zipper. But I need her to beg for my cock before I pull it out.
Unwinding the rope to the tree, I loop it around the trunk, tighten it, knot it, and give the binding a hard yank. On her back with her arms stretched overhead, her wrists are fettered together against the trunk. She’s not going anywhere.
I edge back, rise to my full height, and stop breathing. Seeing her like this… My God, it’s morally wrong. Unholy as hell. And absurdly, wonderfully right.
Arms bound and thighs spread, she’s all curves and forbidden crevices, flesh and trembling breaths, soft mounds and tight holes.
Blood surges to my cock, and I stroke myself through the jeans. My muscles tense, fighting against the impulse to fall on her like an inexperienced boy.
While I might be inexperienced, I’m not without discipline. I’ve had years to think about this, plan it, and make it good for her. But I wasn’t prepared for this…this feral, liberating reaction to the sight of her naked and tied up. It’s a compelling, possessive sense of power, flexing and stretching inside me like a pair of wings.
“You’re beautiful.” Inadequate words for the image before me.
“Please, Jake.” She plants her feet on the blanket and twists her wrists against the rope. “Stop teasing me. I need you with me. In me. Please, hurry.”
Her begging balances me. My legs move on their own. My knees land between her thighs, and I yank down my zipper, rubbing and stroking my boner while trying to pull it out. Soothing the painful throb, halting the oncoming release, I don’t know what I’m doing beyond the mindless need to fill her.
Her breathing accelerates as I blanket her body with mine. Desperation overrides control. My pulse skyrockets, locking my jaw and pounding my eardrums. I
crush my mouth to hers, and the last shreds of my restraint evaporate.
I sweep my tongue past her lips, seeking her depths, craving something I can’t name, aching for the hot wet of her mouth and the clenching grip of her cunt.
“You’re shaking,” she breathes into the kiss.
Mindless happiness vibrates my entire body. My dick’s in my hand, and I’m sliding the head along her slit. She’s bound and nude beneath me. I’m inhaling her sweet breath, seconds from experiencing the squeeze of her pussy. Of course, I’m fucking shaking. I’m hemorrhaging nerves and drunken desire.
With a fumbling hand, I line myself up and find her eyes.
At the edge of my periphery, her tongue touches her lip. Her chest heaves, jiggling her tits. Her thighs quiver around my hips. Oh, the things I want to command her to do…
Finger your cunt. Choke on my cock. Bend over. Ass up. Take it. Beg me.
The space between us narrows and closes. Our lips connect. My cock brushes against her dewy heat. My brain stops working. I’m in a zone. A skin on skin, mouth to mouth, carnal, reckless, crazed animal zone.
Until I hear something.
Movement beyond the trees.
I go still, listening.
Nothing.
Did I imagine it?
The air shifts near the trail, and I jerk my gaze to Barnabe. He doesn’t twitch.
“What is it?” She follows my gaze.
Water babbles through the rocky creek bed, splashing the ravine in noise.
“Thought I heard something.” I return my attention to her warm, wet center.
I only need to push, and I’ll finally be inside her.
A crunching sound drifts from the trail.
Footsteps? I grit my teeth, head tilted, and hold my breath.
Barnabe flicks his tail. His ears. His neck.
He senses something.
My heart rate kicks up.
“A coyote?” Her wide eyes scan the perimeter.
“Shh.” I sit back on my heels and fight the zipper over my erection as my hearing tunes in to the dark.
Silence.
I don’t trust it and drag my abandoned shirt over Conor’s body. It’ll just take me a second to check it out. As I reach for the rope on her wrists, a twig snaps behind me.
She gasps, and I swing around. My gaze collides with my brother’s through the trees.
I jump to my feet and try to block his view of her body. “What the hell are—?”
Jarret stumbles into the clearing, hands clasped on his head, eyes stark, and mouth stuffed with something soft. A bandana? The chilling look on his face screams, Run, run, run!
Confusion steals my breath. Shock paralyzes my limbs. Denial scrambles my brain.
“Jake!” Conor kicks my leg as panic shrieks through her voice. “Untie me!”
Quicker to react, she must’ve seen them before I did.
Two men in ski masks. Swift, threatening strides. Shotguns ticking between everything that moves. Lorne emerges from the trail between them, hands behind his back and a gag in his mouth.
“What the fuck?” My voice cracks, and my stomach bottoms out. “Lower your guns!”
I have no weapons. Nothing to fight with but my hands.
Conor doesn’t even have that.
“Don’t move.” One of the masked men rushes forward, his rifle trained on my chest.
I don’t recognize the voice and don’t waste time inspecting the eyes in the mask. I launch toward Conor, falling to my knees and diving for the knot on her wrists.
Goddammit, it’ll take forever to untie her. Fuck fuck fuck!
“Told you not to move.” Footsteps advance, kicking gravel and hardening my stomach.
The second man ushers Jarret and Lorne closer, jabbing their backs with the barrel of the gun. They shout behind the gags and trip over rocks. There must’ve been a scuffle on the ridge, because neither are wearing their hats.
“Hurry.” Conor scoots toward the tree, attempting to put slack on the rope.
The wheezing sounds of her breaths reinforce my number one priority. I’m nothing if not her protector.
“Don’t come any closer.” I tear at the knot, unable to loosen it. I made it too damn tight, and my sweaty hands keep slipping. “Just tell me what you want.”
A boot rams into my side, shooting pain through my ribs and knocking me onto my back.
“Help! Somebody, help!” She screams at the top of her lungs and fights the rope, causing the shirt to fall and expose her nudity.
Motherfuckers are going to pay for that. Rage crashes through me as I roll back and grab her hips, desperate to cover her.
The masked man towers over me. “Sorry about the headache.”
I glance up. “What—?”
He slams the stock of the shotgun into my skull.
Pain captures me in its fist and rattles my teeth.
I lose my hold on Conor.
Blackness crashes in and sinks me into the ground.
I lose my hold on everything.
Awareness oozes through my head, muddy and nauseating. Pain throbs behind my eyes and prickles down my spine. Rope shackles my hands behind my back, and scratchy cloth fills my mouth. This isn’t happening. It’s not real.
But the sucking panic in my throat already knows what my mind rejects.
I lost consciousness.
We’re in danger.
Can’t scream.
Or fight.
Or run.
This is bad.
Reality barrels into me like a bucking bull. Men in ski masks. Shotguns. Gags and rope. Conor…
I pry my face from the dirt and register the bits of gravel embedded in my chest. I’ve been moved to the other side of the ravine, dragged here on my stomach. Beside me, Jarret and Lorne are bound and gagged with their backs against trees.
The fury in Lorne’s eyes makes me cringe. I’ve never seen him look like that. Jarret wears his distress so blatantly it soaks his face in tears. My brother hasn’t cried since we were kids, and the shock of it speeds up my heart.
How long was I knocked out? Where the hell is Conor?
“Hurry up,” a gravelly voice drawls behind me. “I want another go at her ass before we do her.”
My stomach solidifies with ice-cold dread. I twist my neck and come face to face with a scene so sickening I struggle to come to terms with it.
Two joined bodies. Hers, without clothes. His, still dressed except for the swath of skin between his shirt and waistband. His pants are lowered just enough to expose the part of him that repeatedly stabs into her from behind.
Everything inside me thrashes and howls.
Blood stains her thighs. Puffy welts mark her skin. His hand clamps over the cloth in her mouth, and her hands… The knotted rope still imprisons her to the tree.
I did that. I took away her ability to escape.
Her eyes stare at nothing, rimmed red and dripping tears. Face down on the twisted blanket, her limp body jerks like dead flesh beneath the hammering thrusts.
Thrust.
Thrust.
Thrust.
No sound. No fight. She’s either too exhausted or too broken. They’ve been hurting her for a while.
Violent tremors attack my muscles. Anguish spills from open veins. I bleed helplessness and drown in horror.
Seconds pass before I come up for air, heaving rabid breaths. I push my tongue against the gag and roar, “Get off her. Don’t touch her. Leave her alone.”
They can’t hear my words, but they can fucking see me. I kick and flail, wrenching my arms and tearing my skin against the rope.
He said he’s going to do her after he rapes her again. Does he intend to kill her?
I fight harder, blood pumping, boots scraping dirt, twisting and heaving and going nowhere.
“Calm your ass down.” The voice barks from a mouthless mask. The man who wants another turn with her.
He prowls toward her with a knife in hand. Crouching beside h
er, he grabs the hair on the back of her head and yanks her neck at an awkward angle to hold the blade at her throat.
She closes her eyes, and the sick fuck on top of her continues to rut.
“I can kill her slow and painful like.” The man with the knife glares from the hole in the mask. “Or I can do it fast and efficient. The how is up to you.”
“Why?” My question garbles against the gag.
Why would he kill her? She’s just a girl. Never hurt anyone. She won’t even squash a spider. We haven’t seen their faces. Can’t identify them. Goddammit, I need my voice. I need them to hear me.
That’s not an option, so I force myself to settle, relaxing my muscles one by one. I need to think. I need time. How can I stop this?
The knife pulls back, and he steps away as the other man groans through his vile release.
Then they switch places.
“You should’ve tried out her tight little asshole.” The talkative one kneels behind her and grips her hips. “I broke it in real good for you.”
Bile hits my throat, and my vision blurs with fire and venom, madness and malice.
“Couldn’t pass up a virgin cunt.” The second man tucks himself into his jeans. “Make it quick. We need to wrap this up.”
A cold sweat sweeps my skin. Every molecule in my body seethes to gut them.
I turn my head toward Lorne and Jarret. All my thrashing moved me closer to the tree line, giving me a direct line of sight between their backs and the trees they’re tied to.
From the front, they appear frozen and crippled by fear. But behind them… Holy fuck, their hands are moving in tandem. Is that a knife? And blood.
Adrenaline floods my system, amping my pulse. One of them is definitely bleeding. Lorne, I think. He always carries a blade in his boot. I don’t know how Jarret scored it, but it’s in his grip. My brother blindly saws at the rope on Lorne’s wrists, slicing him up in the process.
Conor muffles a cry as that son of a bitch plunders her body. He impales her most sensitive hole, grunting sick sounds of pleasure and leaning into his depravity with vigor.
With each ram of his hips, he decimates the joy of a long-awaited night, hacking and mutilating it into a nightmare of everlasting scars.