Dallas leans back against the tree, still breathing hard, and tugs me to stand. The front of my knees is streaked with green and dirt, but he doesn’t seem to care. His hand lands heavy on the back of my neck, and he pulls me into him, hard. We’re biting each other’s lips off.
“I need to fuck you still,” he murmurs. “Desperately.”
He doesn’t wait for a verbal answer—my smirk is enough. He spins me against the tree, my back to his chest, his breath shooting fire at the curve of my neck.
Leaves and rough, cool bark scrape the skin above my waistband, but it makes me want him more.
His hands slide over my hips, thumbs digging just a little, and then he’s got my jeans at my thighs. I shiver, it’s really cold now, the lake smell rising from the water, but he’s so hot it’s like steam when he presses the whole length of himself against me. I reach back for him blindly, and he laughs, low and drunk on it.
“Damn it, you want it bad.”
I do. There’s nothing left of me that’s shy or self-preserving. If he said my name wrong, I’d still answer. If he wanted me to bite through his skin, I might do it.
There is nothing in my head but this: the roughness of the bark, the cold on my ass, Dallas cursing into my ear as he fists his dick and lines up, hands shaking so bad he almost misses.
I think I might be too much for him, that he’ll chicken out or snap in half, but whatever spell I have on him makes it happen, fast, grinding and dirty, his hands bracing me as he pushes in.
It hurts at first, but then I push back to meet him, and it melts, and the only thing that exists is the friction and the heat and the way he groans every time I squeeze. He can’t get a rhythm, too frantic, and I love that he sounds almost ashamed at how wild he is.
His teeth find my shoulder, and I feel his spit, the bite, his feet slipping on old leaves as he jackhammers into me, both of us barely holding together at the seams.
The pleasure is building, I can feel it with every thrust. It’s hot, actually hot, even with my ass out in the cool night.
I grip the bark so hard a splinter tears my palm, but it’s nothing compared to the way Dallas is rutting into me.
He loses his grip, slips, almost pulls out, and groans, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” which makes me laugh, chin to my chest, until I gasp instead. He finds the angle, and it’s like someone set fire to my guts, in the best way.
He’s sweating, both hands holding my hips so tight, fingertip-shaped bruises will be there tomorrow.
He slams forward, each thrust a blind, battering confession.
I meet each movement, hissing between my teeth, my body shock-pink with cold and heat. I feel him thick inside me, every part of me stretching raw and hungry, and at the same time, I’m hyperaware of how ridiculous I must look: hair wild, forehead pressed to the tree, shaking with laughter and need.
I can hear the party somewhere behind us, the thump of bass and shouts echoing across the water, but I’m a million years away, another animal in a different epoch, running on muscle memory and instinct.
I scrape against the tree as he fucks me, and every scrape is its own tiny shock, a red bloom riding the much greater, deeper pleasure that spreads through my thighs and up my spine.
His hand, hot, too big, maps the length of my belly, slides up under my shirt, and he finds my nipple with a thumb, pinches it so hard my knees go jelly, and I almost shout. He pushes his nose into my hair and makes this strangled, broken noise. He’s ashamed at how good he feels but cannot, for the life of him, stop.
I almost rip a chunk of the tree out when I come.
It hits fast and furious, like an electric shock. I clamp down so hard he cusses, voice shredded, and then everything inside me goes white static.
I lose my balance, knees turning to rice pudding, and Dallas only just catches me, arm banding under my ribs, holding me up so he can finish.
He comes so suddenly, he surprises himself. He lets out a choked gasp that rattles the quiet between us. My own body clutches him in sympathy, tightening so hard he can barely pull out, and I want it to hurt.
I want him to feel it forever.
He bites down on my shoulder, hard enough to bruise, and I yelp. Half pain, half just more wanting. I can’t breathe, I can’t believe this is happening, and for a little while, all I see is the glow behind my eyelids and the streaks of frost white moonlight on the water. I’m whimpering too, now, but I don’t care; I want it all.
After, we stand there, fused sticky together, Dallas panting into my hair, his arms tight, anchoring himself to earth. I feelridiculous, bare-assed against a tree, jeans at my knees, and I start to laugh.
A startled, helpless bubble of laughter that breaks out of me like I’ve been holding it in for years. Not because anything is funny, not really, but because I feel too full.
Too alive.
Too wrecked and too whole and too stunned by the fact that this actually happened again.
