Page 24 of Run, Little Doe
He stills — one heartbeat, two. Then his breath ghosts over my ear, “I wasn’t going to.”
His hands wrap around my back and find my ass, and he easily hoists me into the air, using one of his hands to free his cock from his jeans. I lose track of everything after that — time, sense, self. The forest sways with us. My body burns. My throat aches from his name, I don’t even know, even though I never speak it aloud.
When I finally open my eyes, head tilted back in ecstasy, I can see the stars, and they are brighter than I remember, the worldseems sharper, and he’s still there, staring at me like I’ve become something dangerous.
****
The Wolf
She doesn’t know what she does to me. No, that’s not true — she knowsnow. I’ve made sure of it.
Every sound she makes carves deeper into my soul. Every movement is a test of how much I can take before I stop pretending to be anything but the man that has been right in front of her and in love with this girl for three years.
My hips buck frantically, her back to a tree, and my dick buried deep in her soaked pussy. I’m ferocious with need, slamming into her repeatedly. I can’t get enough of the sounds she’s making, the feeling of the walls of her pussy clenching on my cock. My one hand under her ass, my other reaching up to wrap around her throat.
The forest is alive with us — the rhythm of our bodies, the echo of her voice, the smell of skin and want. It’s everywhere, inescapable. It’s everything I could have ever dreamed up.
I have imagined this moment, but the reality is worse — or better. It hurts, the way she looks at me through the mask, trusting and undone. Like she’s giving herself to the darkness and daring it to love her back. I want her to see me, but I also don’t know if she can handle what she will see. It’s torture.
I’m pounding into her with every fiber of my being, with every time I’ve watched her lips grace the side of a glass and I imagined it being my cock, with every laugh I’ve ever heard from her, with every side glance she’s ever given me across the bar. I trace her asshole with my fingertip, and I can feel her bodyshudder underneath me. Every time I draw back, I think I can stop. Yet every time, she pulls me back in with one look, one breath, one moan. She was never prey. She was the snare.
When she moans my name — not my real one, but the one the town whispers like a warning — I almost lose it.Wolf.The sound of it on her lips feels like a brand.
I’m painfully hard as I repeatedly slam my cock into her cunt again at a furious pace; there is no gentleness here. This is all heat, and need, and years of desire coming undone all at once. I can feel her body tense underneath my fingertips. She’s so close, so am I. We come together in a crescendo of movement, breath, and sound. My balls echo in the forest as they slam off her pussy. I hear the moan coming up her throat as she throws her head to the sky, and I bury every inch of myself inside of her.
Minutes pass, hours maybe. I don’t count. I don’t care. The world could burn, and I wouldn’t look away from her body beneath mine, from the dazed look in her eyes. There is nothing that would stop me from claiming her, again and again, in this forest.
When she finally collapses against me, shaking and breathless, I catch her. Hold her. Feel the pulse that still thrums wild beneath her skin.
I should end it here. Let her rest. Let her forget, but I know better.
The night isn’t done with us. Neither am I.
The Wolf
For the first time tonight, my mask feels too heavy on my face, it’s sticky from sweat and need, and I hate everything about it. I hate the barrier it has become between us, but I still need it—just a little longer. I need to watch her like this, trembling, burning, desperate, so unbelievably needy, without knowing that it’s me behind the mask.
Her eyes track my every movement, unblinking, burning, staring into my soul. Every inhale, every quiver of her body sets something feral loose inside me. I can’t stop myself from tracing the line of her jaw with my thumb, feeling the softness there, the heat of her skin. My other hand slides along her ribs, memorizing the way her body reacts to my touch.
She arches, pressing against me, and I almost lose it. I can’t hold back. I want to remove this mask and claim her fully, but the anticipation, the teasing, the moment before revelation—it’s torture, and yet, it’s the most exquisite torment I’ve ever felt. I slip my cock out of her and lay her down on the ground beneath me, gentle, almost regretful to lose that extra contact of her legs wrapped around my waist.
I want nothing more than to be inside her; I want to make her quiver and scream, but I want to do that as myself, not as the man in the mask. Her lips part, and the sound she makes is like a blade to my chest, cutting away every shred of patience I’veleft. My hands are everywhere, reckless, mapping her, burning through restraint. Every inch of her skin calls to me. Every shiver, every gasp, every little tremor of desire—it’s a pull I cannot resist.
I’m hyper aware of every heartbeat, every breath, every tremble. I’m acutely aware of how close I am to losing control entirely. My eyes trace the curve of her neck, the swell of her chest, the way her nipples stiffen with every kiss I place along her collarbone, the way her hands twitch and wander along my arms as if they can’t keep themselves from claiming me, too. And maybe they shouldn’t. Maybe we’ve gone too far to stop now.
Her gaze meets mine through the shadows, intense, unflinching. She doesn’t need to say anything. I know. I know she wants me. I know she’s always wanted me, even when she didn’t know it herself. I know she’s accepted this dark part of herself that’s thrilled to be chased through the woods and claimed by a masked man, but I don’t want to be a masked man anymore; I want to beher man.
I stop kissing her neck to push back and look at her, I brush her hair from her face, and something deep inside me snaps. I can’t wait any longer. The way she looks at me breaks me in a beautiful way, and I want to share the rest of the night as myself, not the Wolf. I push myself further up on my hands, one on either side of her stomach, so she can see me. Her eyes are wide, questioning. It’s now or never. I support my body weight on my left hand, and reach up with my right, and it’s in that moment, the mask finally comes off, sliding over my head, revealing my face to her. The air hits me, cold and sharp, but nothing compares to the fire in her eyes when she sees me—really sees me.
****
Sirena
It’s him.
Emerson.
The realization is immediate, visceral, like lightning splitting my chest. My knees weaken despite not standing, my hands shake, but I cannot look away. He is here, unmasked, raw, and everything I’ve imagined all these years comes crashing into the present. I knew it. Deep down, I always knew. Every brush of hands when he gave me a drink, or passed something to me over dinner, Carly’s entire family, every stolen look where I felt like I had been caught red-handed doing something he thought was wrong, of every impossibly perfect fictional stranger in a mask I’ve read about in my dark romances… I always dreamed they were him. My chest tightens as the realization crashes over me. The man I’ve been longing for, aching for, desperate for, has been right here with me tonight, beneath the shadows and the forest canopy, and he wants me too.