Page 26 of The Wrong Reciprocation

He'd said some other dynamic things that those words alone had incinerated her and tempted her to throw caution into the wind where he was concerned. Lord, but what would her mama think? Twyla couldn't imagine that Linda would be okay with anything that Twyla and Arturo had done.

After about half an hour, Twyla turned around to head back to the house. She knew that if she kept going she would end up back at the house but she didn't know how many more twists and turns the trail took before ending and since it was still rather dark on the trail although the moon was high in the sky above the canopy, she decided to call it. Midway back she noticed someone walking toward her and she stopped, squinting her eyes to see who else would be up so early.

The moment that those swollen shoulders and arms came into view, her steps faltered and her palms began to sweat. Arturo walked with purpose, his face impassive but his eyes alight with that same fire that Twyla had ran from the night before. When he stood in front of her, clad only in basketball shorts and sneakers, Twyla stared at him wordlessly. She didn't know what to say—couldn't find the words. Apparently, that wasn't an issue.

Arturo bent at the knees and lifted her into his arms, similar to how he'd done the previous night, only this time, gripping her by her thighs instead of her ass. Instinctively, Twyla dug her fingers into his shoulders and tightened her legs around his waist, as he walked her backward.

"Arturo," she shrieked, "what are you doing?"

He didn't say a word, just continued walking. Once she felt a solid mass against her backs eh craned her neck to see that he had her pressed to one of the trees just off the trail. Gently, he set her on her feet and dropped to his knees in front of her.

"Arturo!" She whisper-yelled. "What the hell are you doing?" It was a pointless question because his big hands had grasped the elastic waistband of her shorts and panties and had drug them down her thighs.

And she let him.

Completely ignoring her questions, he pulled one leg out of her clothing and tossed it up on his thick shoulder. Leaning forward, he drug the tip of his nose up her slit—just once—and inhaled deeply. Only then did he look up at her and speak. There was that molten lava again, and if her pussy hadn't already started gushing when he picked her up, it definitely would have rained right the fuck then. No need to ask him again. She knew exactly what was about to happen.

Dark brown eyes peered up at her from under unfairly long eyelashes. "Tell me to stop." He commanded. "Tell me you don't want this."

His voice was earnest—almost pleading with her—and she opened her mouth to say what he commanded of her because of fucking course she needed him to stop. This was fifty shades of fucked up and they were only steps away from the trail where anyone could walk by and see them and, she was sweaty from her run, and, and—

And she wanted it—wanted him so badly she couldn't see straight. Had been wanting him for so long that she couldn't remember what it was like not to want him. It was physically impossible for her to mouth the words, let alone speak them into existence.

"Don't stop," she whispered.

His eyes narrowed and for a split second she was worried that this was all some elaborate prank and that he would pull away from her anyway, but then he landed that first, long lick to her slick opening and her head fell back against the tree with a thump.

If she thought Arturo had been good with his hands, his tongue put those expert digits to shame. Settling one foot on the ground, he placed her sneakered foot on his bulging thigh and spread her open even farther. This wasn't as simple as licking at her clit—Arturo moved his mouth against her center as if he had been instructed to eat his dinner with no hands. She dug her fingers into his scalp, gripping the short strands of his hair as she whined and whimpered, trying to keep her voice low despite the fact that they were probably the only ones awake.

Then Arturo slipped two fingers inside of her and curled them forward while simultaneously sucking her engorged clit into his mouth and that's when all of her synapses fired at once. Heat began to unfurl in her belly and her toes curled in her shoes. She was torn between pushing him away and shoving his face closer but she didn't get to decide because his suction increased, as his fingers found whatever they were searching for inside of her and suddenly her climax slammed into her like a freight train.

"Art—shiiiiit!" She shrieked, nearly biting her tongue not to yell his name.

She shoved him away. "Hell no, th—that was one thing. Fucking out in the woods is some whole other shit." Working to catch her breath, she bent to pull her panties and shorts back up her thighs. When her clothes were right, she looked at the man who had once again pulled an orgasm out of her in a public place.

"What the hell was that, Arturo? What was that all about?"

Reaching down, he adjusted his dick in his shorts. "I woke up with you on my mind and had to come find you. I wanted you too bad to wait."

She gaped at him. "Wait? Wait for what? There is nothing to wait for."

His eyes flashed and took a step backward. "Wait for you to come to me."

She shook her head. "I'm not—I wasn't coming for you and you know why."

He nodded. "That's why I had to come to you."

"No! That's not what that means! We can't do this. You know that we can't do this. We talked about it."

Slowly, he shook his head. "I remember that, but it doesn't matter. You don't understand; it's taking everything in me not to bend you over against the tree and fuck you until your legs are so weak that I have to carry you into the house. The way I feel about you, this shit can't be controlled. I'm going to keep coming for you and I won't stop—I can't stop."

Suddenly, Twyla understood what he was saying; she understood what it meant.

There are consequences to welcoming the spirit world into your life.

These were the consequences of her actions. She'd fucked up the spell that would have made her desire for him disappear—at least temporarily—and, in turn, his desire for her had increased one-hundred-fold. Shocked, she brought her hands up to cover her mouth. Based on what had just happened, it was clear that her ability to refuse him was nonexistent.

Side-stepping him