Page 62 of Jealous Lumberjack

“This how you want me, baby?”

“Yes, thank you.” My voice is prim, a mocking contrast to how un-prim the situation is, especially with his anaconda cock thumping against my ass.

But I have a purpose to claiming my prize—one I need to implement before the need rampaging through us both takes over.

I trace scars I’ve only caressed briefly before: jagged lines across his ribs, pale marks on his thighs, one long thick scar slashing down his shoulder.

“What happened here?” I whisper, brushing it with my lips.

He stiffens. For a long moment, I think he won’t answer. But then he exhales, voice gravelly. “That one ended me.”

I glance up. His eyes are on the sky, not me.

“Pay-per-view match,” he says slowly. “They booked me against a guy who didn’t care if we walked away breathing. My manager pushed me into it, said the money was too good, that I’d be a fool to refuse it. I went in half-injured already from another bout that didn’t go according to plan. He knew it. Didn’t care. Chair shot to the shoulder, followed by a fall from the top rope. Heard the pop before I hit the mat. Everything tore. Crowd roared like it was a show. But I knew.” His jaw flexes.

“Career over in one night.”

My chest aches. I press my mouth to the scar again, reverent. “I’m sorry, Bear.”

He finally looks at me, eyes raw. “Don’t be. I should’ve walked away sooner. Gut told me to. I just didn’t know how.”

I lower myself, kissing every scar I can find, mapping his pain with my mouth. By the time I reach his cock, thick and heavy against his stomach, his breath is ragged.

“Petal...” His voice cracks. “You don’t have to?—”

“I want to,” I whisper, sliding down until I can take him in my hand, stroking slow, deliberate. “You’ve carried all this hurt alone for too long. Let me carry some too.”

His eyes stay steady on mine, but I see the question in them.

For how long?

I swallow and drop my gaze, raise my hips, and tease his length with my wetness without penetration.

His groan tears out of him when I reach down without stopping the roll of my hips, grasp the top half, and stroke as I ride. Stroke and ride, stroke and ride.

“Jesus...fuck... that’s so fucking good.”

After a minute, I shuffle down, put my mouth on him, licking the head and groaning at the taste of my own juices, then sliding my mouth down his length as far as I can take him.

His hand fists in my hair, his hips jerking.

“Fuck, flower,” he rasps. “You’re gonna ruin me so damn good.”

I hum around him, suck and lick until I sense him at breaking point.

Then climb back up his body, guiding him between my thighs. He looks at me like I’m salvation and sin wrapped together.

“Shall we try for another inch, Bear?” I whisper, echoing his words.

His growl shakes the earth as he thrusts deep, filling me, stretching me, splitting me wide open until I scream. He catches my cry with his mouth, kissing me hard as he drives deeper.

I ride him, nails raking down his chest, both of us lost to the rhythm and the heat.

“Most perfect little cunt in the whole damn world,” he grunts between thrusts. “Gonna come so hard for it. Fill it up good. You want that, baby?”

I throw my head back, tears filling my eyes at the unspeakable pleasure. “Yes! God, yes, fill me up, Bear!”

His hands grip my hips, his roar echoing through the trees when he explodes inside me, filling me with warm streams of cum until it drips between us, until it pulls my own climax down with his.