Page 7 of Pursued-
She becomes very still, the way prey does when it senses a predator drawing near.
My gaze slides to the edge of her dress and her legs, my thoughts skidding to the place where they join together. Does she shave that little pussy? Or is there a puff of curls? If so, are they brown like cinnamon, her natural hair color? My cock goes hard at these thoughts and because I smell her, a perfume that’s light and sharp and makes me want to lean closer.
I lower myself to kneel on the mattress, leaning over her. I cut the lower edge of her dress. She sucks in a breath and tries to draw back. I grab the fabric and rip it open all the way, exposing her indigo bikini panties and bra.
She raises a hand in protest, her eyes wide.
“Arms down, Raven.”
She crosses her arms over her chest.
I slice the sides of the panties. She shoves her hands down to cover her pussy as I pull the fabric away. I cut the strapsof her bra. Her fingers come close to the blade, but I’m fast enough. I toss the knife, and it lands in a corner.
“What are you doing?” she demands, backing up until her back’s against the wall.
I don’t answer. This isn’t a situation that calls for conversation. Instead, I get the pump bottle of lube I brought. She stares at me, unmoving. Does she even understand what it’s for? I unzip my jeans and take out my cock.
“Oh, my God,” she says on an exhale.
My cock matches the rest of me.
“They weren’t lying,” she whispers.
I pause. “Who?”
The bright pink splotches on her cheeks tell me she’s scared and maybe something else.
“The neighborhood girls. They call it the battering ram,” she says, sitting straighter and tucking her legs to the side. Her arms cover her chest as her hands tug at the collar around her neck.
I stroke myself, wetting my dick with the lube until it’s slick and shiny.
She looks up at me, her light brown eyes clear and sparkling like damn jewels. I clench my jaw. I’m so hard I do feel like I’ve got a battering ram between my legs.
“Lie back and spread your legs.”
She doesn’t move.
“This is happening. If you’re smart, you won’t fight.”
She doesn’t move at first. We just stare at each other. Then I drop down onto the mattress and move closer, inch by inch. The only sound in the room is my harsh breathing and hers.
When I’m less than a foot from her, I pause. Will she fight? Will I let her?
My heart thuds in my chest, and it’s like she knows shit about me that I don’t even know myself. She leans forward, resting her small hands on my chest.
“You don’t have to do this.”
It’s dangerous to let her talk. I grab her upper arms and shove her back. She falls onto the mattress, and I don’t hesitate because I know any hesitation is going to cost me.
I force her thighs open and put the thick head of my cock at her entrance. My knuckles graze her opening and moisture coats them. I groan, shaking my head. I want this. I’ve waited for this. My balls are fucking aching for this. But I don’t move. Not my fist. Not my hips. Nothing.
She stares up at me, her eyes so round and innocent.
My breathing’s ragged. I want this more than my next breath, but my body’s rigid and still. I should cover her mouth and shut my eyes. My muscles strain, joints popping.
“All right,” she whispers. “Go ahead.”
My breathing’s harsh, and my thoughts are a car crash in my head, all screeching tires and crumpling metal. I shut my eyes and hear her voice. I don’t know if it’s now or three years ago.