He’s looking at me like he’s memorizing me, as if he’s afraid that I’m going to disappear. It has some of the fear settling in my chest instead of buzzing under my skin. When I only focus on us, on the feeling arching between us and making it impossible to look away, everything feels surprisingly simple.
Maybe it can be.
“We should get the day started,” he says the words, but he doesn’t make any move to climb off me. My legs come up and wrap around his waist, holding him in place. One side of his mouth tips up in a smirk that makes me want to rub the length of my naked body against his. “I still need to feed you,” there’s a tease in his tone. “I made you scream loud enough for Coyote Man to hear you in the woods. Then you passed right the fuck out.”
“Coyote Man could not hear me,” I scoff as I look up at him, fighting against the smile that wants to make an appearance on my face. He sounds far too self-satisfied for my liking.
And I have my doubts that the Coyote Man is even real. It’s just one of those urban legends people use to scare their kids and try to keep teenagers in line and away from danger. It’s a legend older than me.
Coyote Man lives in the woods, if the stories are to be believed. He was driven to the forest on a mission to bring godliness back to society. When you go into the woods, his woods, with sin in your heart, he’ll be there to teach you a lesson.
Him and his pack.
Because he befriended the coyotes and they are his messengers.
Of course, that’s if you believe the stories.
Some people do. And sightings do happen from time to time. Allegedly.
What we’re lacking is evidence of his existence beyond uncorroborated sightings, blurry photos, and creepy feelings. I keep my mouth shut about it, especially when talking to those who do spend time camping on the ridge in the hope of finding a sign of Coyote Man’s existence. Knowing how legends shape history, I see no reason to shine a light on the whole thing.
There’s no one in the woods.
Also, yes, I’m aware the name isn’t original; I didn’t come up with it, and I have no idea who did.
“It was a long day,” I defend myself. “Don’t get me wrong,” I’m quick to add on, the words sounding almost like an apology, “it was a good orgasm, but I was on adrenaline overload for far too long and was bound to crash.”
Titus growls as he aligns our bodies completely. The hard ridge of his shaft slides between my pussy lips and we both groan, his low rumble rattles me from the inside out.
“I can feel how wet you are for me, Teach,” he grinds out the words, his jaw clenched tightly. “Do you need a reminder about how good it feels to have my dick deep inside of your pretty pussy?”
“Yes,” I gasp, my fingers digging into his back, “I have a horrible memory. The memory of a goldfish really. You should absolutely remind me of how it feels to stretch around your thick cock.”
“Ezra,” he grunts.
Some of his weight leaves me, but then he’s right back where I want him, the fire inside of me threatening to burn uncontrollably. When he thrusts inside of me, my eyes pop open. When did I even close them?
“Titus,” his name wooshes out of me and I swear he pushes even deeper in response, and I wheeze out a sound of pure bliss.
“Fuck,” he growls, “you feel so fucking good wrapped around my dick. One day I’m going to fuck you raw and fill you with so much of my cum that it’ll drip from your sweet pussy and coat your thighs. I’ll keep filling you. I won’t let you out of bed until you’re pregnant with my baby.”
The world around me is fuzzy, but his words are sharp and they make me wetter for him. I’ve looked forward to having a family; a real family. But I figured I’d be waiting for a while longer, if it ever happened.
But I know one thing, Titus would never let anything bad touch me or our kids.
“Please,” I beg.
I’m not sure if I’m pleading with him to move or to pull out, rip the condom off, and fill me with his baby right fucking now. I think I’d be good either way.
He shudders and lets out a low, rumbling growl that goes right to my clit. “Brace yourself, Teach,” he sounds like he’s barely holding on, “I’m about to fuck all your worries away.”
I suck in a breath and then he’s moving. He’s not fucking me fast, but he slides his arms under my knees and holds me open for him which has him going even deeper. My back arches and I moan every time he’s filling my channel completely while he grunts with a barely contained ferocity.
The way he fucks me borders on brutal, his hips ramming forward harshly while keeping a steady rhythm. When my walls squeeze around his length, he picks up the pace. The sound of our skin slapping together fills the room and builds along with our moans.
“Titus,” I moan, needing to say so much more but not being able to give anything beyond his name a voice.
One side of his mouth tips up, devastatingly so, as his voice becomes rough, “You feel it. The way I’m branding my name on your body.” He demands, “Say it.”
