Page 73 of Jealous Lumberjack

His mouth gapes. A sound escapes him—half roar, half groan. “J-Jesus.”

I toss the bottle away, drape my arms over the ropes, head thrown back and hips thrust out. “Come and get me, Bear,” I croon.

He charges. I dart away and only succeed in reaching the next corner.

Then he’s on me.

“Fuck,” he growls. “You’re perfect. So fucking perfect.” Then he’s ripping the vest in two with his bare hands. The oil makes my skin slippery under his palms, and he glides them everywhere—breasts, ribs, hips—like he can’t decide where to worship first.

I laugh, writhing beneath his touch, but the laugh turns into a gasp when his mouth clamps down on my nipple through the thin fabric, sucking until the oil runs onto his tongue.

“You’re mine,” he rasps, dragging his teeth across me. “No one else gets this. No one else gets you slick, shiny, pussy tight and begging in my ring. Say it, petal,” he barks, wild and unfettered.

An animal.My animal.

“Yours,” I whisper, dizzy, tugging at his trunks. “Now show me mine.”

He strips them off, cock springing free—thick and hard, the sight alone making my walls flutter and quake in anticipation.

He hauls me into the center of the ring, pushes me to the mat. We grapple, laugh, claw, kiss. I surprise him again by rolling on top and locking my thighs around his waist.

“You’re too cocky,” he grits out, flipping us so fast my head spins.

“And you’re too big,” I gasp back, nails raking down his back.

His hips grind against mine, cock sliding along my slick folds, oil and sweat making us a blur of heat and motion. He doesn’t thrust in just yet.

He toys, teases, grinding until I’m clawing at him, begging.

“Say it,” he growls. “Say what this is, petal.”

“A beautiful fantasy,” I whimper. “One I didn’t even know I had.”

His eyes burn. “And you can have as many of them as you want. Just say the word and I’ll give it to you. Make it real. Every time. All over again. Until you can’t think of anything else.”

Emotion slams into me alongside the lust. My heart swells so hard it hurts.

I kiss him, filthy and desperate, then break off to pant, “Fuck me. Please, Bear. Split me open with that monster cock!”

He grips my hips, finally slamming inside with a guttural roar.

The stretch burns, but it’s perfect. Oil slicks our skin, and sweat drips into my mouth when I cry out, and his thrusts shake the canvas beneath us.

“Take it,” he snarls. “Take all of me, my fierce little warrior.”

“Yes!” I arch, scream, rake my nails down his back as he pounds into me, the slap of skin on skin, balls on ass, echoing in the barn.

“Louder,” he demands. “Let the walls know who makes this pretty, tight cunt gush.”

I sob his name, cry out with each feral thrust, until the pressure snaps and I break apart beneath him, shaking, screaming, my orgasm crashing through me.

He follows instantly, a roar tearing from his chest as he spills inside me, shuddering, crushing me to the mat like he never wants to let go.

We lie there panting, tangled, glistening in oil and sweat. His lips find my temple, soft and reverent even as his chest still heaves.

“My petal,” he murmurs. “You fucking own me.”

And heaven help me, I believe it.