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America

“Yeah, it’s perfect, right?” Runa asks once she sees my attention is beyond the clearing, directed into the dark of the forest.

“Yes!” I squeal, finally understanding her plan.

Just past the line of trees behind the cottage is another smaller, more hidden clearing.

A metal tripod nearly eight feet tall takes up the majority of the space, and from the top of it hangs a chain from a loop.

It secures on top of the handle of what seems to be an iron bowl, keeping it hanging about three feet from the air.

No, not a bowl, a cauldron.

Below it is a pile of ashes, indicative of the pyre that once heated it.

“We’re gonna cook him into plant food?” I confirm, unable to contain the excitement.

The cauldron is at least five feet in diameter, if we tuck him in like a little baby he’ll be snug as a bug inside that thing, and if the fire is going all night, he’ll be nothing but liquid in a day or two.

“Bones are good too, once we get all the meat off of him we can bake the bones and turn them into powder for even more nutrients.”

Runa bats her eyes incredulously, “I-I.” she struggles with her words, fumbling so uncomfortably that I’m sure I’ve crossed the line.

Powdered bones?

Meat falling off the bone?

You went way too far.

“I don’t want to say I love you because it’s been at best like, a day if you don’t count the time we were put to sleep, and” she laughs awkwardly, “the last thing you need is to be trapped in the woods with some crazy clinger girlfriend.”

“But?” I bite back the smile at hearing her say she loves me, even if the words before them might have been I don’t want to say.

No one has ever gotten so close to saying the words.

She clears her throat uncomfortably, “But I know I’m going to Meri.”

Her eyes meet mine for only a second before she shifts them down to the ground again, like she’s maybe trying to avoid the possibility of rejection here.

“I’m gonna love you too.” It sounds so damn stupid but it’s the only reply I can think of.

A goofy grin breaks through her expression, her eyes moving to where my chest lifts with every breath.

“If we can get him cooking now, then by the time we come back from ditching the car he should be ready to feed to Chewie.”

“Perfect.”

It takes more effort to get Williams undressed then it does to carry him over to the cauldron in the woods.

It’s deep, which is perfect because even at almost six feet tall, we’re able to cram him into the space in the fetal position.

There’s enough pre-cut logs from the last time Runa was here, but still, I pick some dry sticks for kindling.

His bloody clothes make for shit firestarter, but we toss it in anyway.

It takes about three trips to the well for water to get enough to fill the cauldron before we can close the lid.

The iron is heavy and it takes the both of us to lock it in right.

“Is it going to smell?” I ask her.

Runa shrugs, “This is also my first time boiling man-stew.”

Grabbing her hand for comfort, I drop my head to her shoulder and we stand, watching the little flame under the cauldron turn into a full on blaze.

It will simmer soon, and then Williams will be gone.

And we will be free.

Runa isn’t wrong, and I somehow have a feeling that it’s a good indicator for the majority of how our life will be.

I’m positively infatuated with her, with the way she makes me feel and the way I’m no longer in a rush to get through each day just because she’s around.

We agree to drive three hours past the cabin, in the opposite direction we came from, just in case.

If my dad can somehow still access the tracker in the car then he’ll search for me in that area.

If he bothers to look at all.

We decide not to deal with Williams’ car until tomorrow, coming up with a plan to sink it in the same exact lake as mine.

This way, a cohesive story can be painted by anyone who goes looking.

It’s dark by the time we return home, the six hour expedition being closer to seven with extra stops for snacks and gas.

The ride back is infinitely better.

Once my car is at the bottom of the pond, I feel renewed, watching in slow motion as the water takes a version of me that I’ll never be forced to be again.

It’s as if I’m attending my own funeral.

A beautifully welcome death.

Getting to sit next to her in the truck for the second half of the trip is nothing short of agony.

Runa’s fingers trail the top of my thigh, every so often shifting from a light grazing movement, to holding steadily right above my knee.

The distraction is borderline criminal on her part, she knows what she’s doing, drowning every other thought out of my mind and making every worry insignificant until the only thing coursing through it is her.

For tonight at least.

Tomorrow the worries will build again, not so strongly as today, and maybe even less the day after, until eventually there might not be anything left except peace.

Runa parks the truck in a way that blocks the clearing from being accessed by other vehicles.

It feels like overkill, considering how remote this cottage is, but I don’t question her extra care.

She really thinks someone else might come for me .

It’s sweet, but unnecessary.

It’s done now, it’s just me and her.

And Chewbacca.

The plant greets us with a long gargle, snapping her trap upwards toward the sky.

“Is she turning black?” Runa frowns, shining the flashlight to look closer.

“Yes, I told you, that’s normal. She’ll grow a new trap, maybe even two once this one falls off.” I assure her worry.

Runa’s eyes grow wide, “Two?”

She practically jumps up and down, patting the plant joyously.

“Did you hear that Chewie, girl? Two traps!”

“I said maybe ,” I try to calm her down before she gets her hopes up, “She’s still pretty young.”

It does the opposite, only doubling her excitement.

“So it’s definitely going to happen then?” She squeals.

I grab her by the waist and bring her into me, tired of dancing around the obstacles thrown in our path today.

“Can I have you to myself yet?”

Runa’s smirk is seductive, so confident and sultry it just makes me want her more.

“Since you’re asking so nicely.” She tucks a pink strand of hair behind my ear, “We’re gonna have to figure out a way to get this color in town. I’m absolutely obsessed with it.”

At this point she’s messing with me, delaying the inevitable just to see how frustrated she can make me now that I’ve voiced my physical need for her.

“I’ll shave it off right now if you don’t kiss me.”

She throws her head back, letting out a perfectly cinematic witchy cackle.

Before I’ve even taken a full inhale she’s already stolen it from my lungs, capturing my mouth in a kiss so full of fire my entire center heats.

I feel her hands under my thighs, scooping me and lifting me up.

Every inch of my body immediately becomes hot upon contact with her.

My legs squeeze her hips, my ankles cross behind her back, and only the thin fabric of my underwear separates her flesh from mine.

I devour her, shaky hands carving along her flesh with a hungry need while my lips make unspoken promises to her mouth.

Runa moans, the sound vibrating through my being directly into my core.

“I need you, now.”

My plea is all the time I can suffer to spend away from her lips, a smile tugging at the corner of hers as she walks us into the bedroom.

Runa drops me to the bed gently before taking a few steps back.

She pulls her hair down from the claw clip that’s held it in place all day, the long, raven strands tussling softly down to her low back.

She gazes down at me, the attention of her stare forcing me to come up to my elbows.

It feels like a thousand spotlights on me, drying my mouth, forcing me to lick my lips while I wait for her to make the next move.

“Take your clothes off.” Runa’s voice is commanding, but gentle, and she hums appreciatively when I move without any delay.

A crooked smirk paints her face, satisfaction at the way I don’t hesitate.

Not when it comes to her.

“You too.” I muster out my own shaky command.

My heart races, Runa’s movements so slow and deliberate that it feels like thousands of beats pass between her reaching for her shoulder strap and pulling it down.

I want to tear her clothes off.

I want to rip them off her body with my own hands and then stare at her until I’ve memorized every inch of her skin.

Instead, I just watch, biting my cheek and breathing through a pounding in my chest that’s so intense it feels like I may faint at any moment.

“Breathe,” she reminds me, a soft smile on her face as she drops the last piece of clothing still on her.

There’s no point though.

Why breathe when there’s no air left in the room?

Why breathe when dying right here, right now, would ensure I’d die the happiest I could ever possibly be?

Runa slowly climbs onto the bed, one knee at a time before she crawls over me, forcing me to drop all the way to my back.

“Is there anything you don’t like?” She asks, her eyes scanning over every part of me.

The question takes me aback because it’s not something I’ve been asked before, not something I’ve thought about or taken the time to explore with previous partners or myself.

“I-I don’t really know.”

My confession is just as uncertain as I am.

She smiles like she understands, “We’ll figure it out together then, just let me know and I’ll stop, okay?”

I nod, watching her as she lowers herself closer to me.

When her lips touch my breast, I hiss, the soft, pillowy flesh so warm as she parts them slightly through the kiss.

“Ah!” The gasp is involuntary, a feeling building through my spine each time she pulls away and presses her lips to me again.

Her left knee moves to where my thighs split, resting right against the place where my heat builds.

I feel the wet of her tongue when her mouth closes around my nipple, my back arching on command from the ripple of pleasure.

Runa’s chuckle grows from a quiet to a dark and seductive sound, tantalizing, as if to say everything she does is now on purpose.

There are no mistakes here.

I whine, squirming with each flick of her tongue against the hardened bead, my core tightening as each wave of pleasure rises higher and higher than the next, waiting for the tidal wave to crash down.

“Runa.” I whimper her name past my lips, grinding against her leg to feel some sort of relief but only making it worse.

Only yearning for more.

“My greedy girl,” she hums a satisfied sound, “I can’t wait to feel that pussy gripping my fingers.”

The filth out of her mouth only makes me needier for her touch.

I squirm, watching her stare down at me like she can’t wait to make me come undone.

She doesn’t realize I’m already there.

I’m standing at the precipice, it would take less than a breeze to push me over.

Runa moves her hands exploratively, squeezing my breasts, thumbs tracing my nipples, pinching and torturing as if I’m just a doll in her hands.

I moan, clawing at the sheets, the mess between my legs further spreading over her thighs, dripping down onto the bed.

She toys with me, hands rubbing my inner thighs, fingers grazing the outside of my vulva, touches precise and firm and then light and brief.

I’m loud enough to be heard through the trees, her name a raspy chant from my parched lips.

She’s barely touched me yet I feel like I’m ready to combust, ready to break apart and shatter into a million pieces.

Finally, her thumb presses down onto the swollen nub of my clit, “I want to fill these woods with the sound of you screaming for me.” I cry, biting my lip as I fight to hold back the orgasm forcing its way through.

It’s too soon, I’m not ready to be done.

I never want her to stop touching me.

I’m not the one in charge and here on this bed, my body listens only to her.

It feels like I’m splintering open, breaking apart from the inside out, convulsing from wave after wave of pleasure crashing over me.

She holds my hip with one hand, still tracing my clit with the other in slow circles that prolong my climax.

“Fuck,” she groans, “you’re so wet and messy, I fucking love it.”

I can only whimper my reply, still panting and breathing hard as I come down.

She doesn’t give me a chance though, the same fingers now spearing their way inside of me, hooking upwards and hitting the spot that forces my toes to curl.

“Runa,” I call her name.

I’m immediately silenced by my own gasps when her mouth makes contact with my inner thigh, those same soft kisses trailing upward.

My entire body is on fire, each stroke of her fingers is a shot of gasoline in the flame.

When I feel the flat of her wet tongue press on my clit I fully come undone, nails raking against her skin as I cry out in pleasure.

Runa is unrelenting in the way she dishes it out, holding me in place, sucking and licking, her fingers still moving until all of the pulsing stops.

It feels unending, and even then, she starts again, slowly, using my arousal as lubricant to insert a third finger.

“I think you can be louder than that.,” she chuckles.

“The crows didn’t even fly away.”

My eyes widen when she lifts up, wiping the glistening cum from her chin with the back of her arm.

I shake my head, “W-wait,” I say, stopping her before she can start again.

It’s too late though, with her fingers moving in sync inside of me, magma builds at my core.

“I want a turn too.”

I barely get the chance to say the words before I’m a mess again, mewing and pleading under her to release another orgasm from me.

She moves her fingers skillfully, slapping the base of her palm so that with every strike, each nerve screams and the build up feels like it’s going to kill me.

I come with my entire body, shaking and seizing as I gush into her hands, the proof of my climax spilling between my legs and onto her face.

Panting between breaths, my embarrassment takes over.

“I didn’t know I could do that.” I try to pull away but she grips me tighter, “I-I’m so sorry!”

Runa scowls at first, a confused look showing itself for only a split second before it morphs into amusement.

“I’m not.”

Her chuckle is a seductive low rumble I feel at the base of my spine, it gives me confidence like nothing else imaginable.

I lift up to my elbows again, panting hard to catch my breath.

“Get off.”

She’s shocked at the command, moving with uncertainty to the other side of the bed.

I pounce, pushing her to her back and lifting her arms over her head.

“My turn.”

Runa melts in my hold, surrendering fully as I set out to worship at her altar.

I release her, though she doesn’t move an inch, eyes watching me, unblinking, as I lower myself down.

The first sound breaks through her chest when I exhale just an inch from her slit.

The heat of my breath forcing a shudder from her, her knees pulling together to close as she squirms from anticipation.

I’m there to stop them though, keeping them apart as I dive between them.

“Shit,” Runa curses, her hand coming down to my head, fingers gripping tight on my hair.

I flatten my tongue to her clit, moving side to side before taking it into my mouth.

She squeals, pulling my hair and clenching her thighs around my face.

There’s no feeling of conquest like it, of hearing her soft sighs and moans, her little sounds of pleasure as I bring her closer and closer to her undoing.

She cries, her heels dragging on the bed sheets the faster and harder I work toward her pleasure.

She was wet before I started, aroused from just getting me off, so when I rub my fingers through her slit they glide right in.

Every ounce of authority and hardness disintegrates from her in that moment, a high pitched whining forming at the base of her throat, growing needily with every thrust of my fingers.

“You’re so wet, Runa.” I’m both in awe and feeling a sense of accomplishment, my own desire for her growing the closer she gets to coming.

She shatters with little effort, gripping and pulling my scalp, grinding against my hand while I fuck her as deep as my fingers can go.

It’s in that exact moment when I look down at her on the bed, eyes all wild and hair disheveled, chest heaving hard with her breath that I realize how easy it is to keep going.

How addictive it is to hear her desperation, how all consuming it can be to want to draw out her pleasure.

I never want to stop.