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“Give up yet?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“Good,” I groan, pushing her to her limits.
I fuck deeper, harder, faster, until my veins bulge and my balls are ready to explode.
“Here it comes,” I groan. “Take it deep and suck.”
Howling, I bury myself inside her. My seed jets out in spurts, covering her tongue and the back of her throat. She coughs and struggles, so I growl, “Swallow it.”
Her tongue moves and wraps itself around me, and she gulps it down as I come, filling her up.
When the stream stops, I pull out and let her breathe.
I’m not done yet. Far from it.
I move backward and slide down her body far enough to lift her legs and settle between them. With the tip of my dick at her entrance, her head rises, and she mutters, “Still hard?”
I smirk. “I’m only getting started.”
I push inside when she least expects it, wanting to see that o-shape on her lips. It’s as pretty as last time when I fucked her in the lake. Only this time her wetness replaces the water… and fuck me, is she wet.
Groaning and puffing, I fuck her deep and hard, slamming into her with everything I have. Sweat drips down my back as I take my woman with every inch of my body. I take her back and everything she took from me. My pride. My dignity. My needs and wants. I take everything she’s willing to give me and more.
Is it selfish? Fuck yes. But I don’t care anymore.
She willingly gave herself to me.
She knew what she was getting herself into and did it anyway.
“Tell me you want it,” I groan, burying myself deep inside her.
“I want it,” she murmurs, her cheeks rosy and her lips still glossy with my cum.
Her hot and heavy voice turns me on even more, and I give her all I’ve got, fucking her until her eyes roll into the back of her head. Until she moans and her pussy contracts, muscles squeezing my dick. I come again, harder, filling her to the brim with my seed.
When I pull out, it drips from her pussy, so I push it back inside with two fingers and spread it all over her lips and in her mouth.
She might think I’m sated … but this is far from over.
I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.
Chapter Twenty
Accompanying Song: “Coachella” by Lana Del Rey
Juliet
We’re both eating breakfast in silence, but I’m not even hungry. I can’t stop thinking about what happened last night. And that I did all those dirty things.
My stomach twists, and I push away my plate and look around.
“Not hungry?” Lock asks.
I shake my head. “I’m a bit nauseous.”
“Oh …” He frowns. “Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” I say, smiling gently. “Maybe if I wait a few minutes, I’ll get my appetite back.”
“Do that,” he says, chomping on some fish. “I’m gonna go hunt some more today.”
“Hunt?” I look up at him.
“Yeah. We need more fur and jerky.”
I cringe. “Maybe … we could do with more fish?”
“Yeah … tomorrow.” He smiles as he swallows down his food. “We still have enough.”
“Right.” I was actually hoping he might start eating more fish instead of meat, but I guess some things will never change.
Not that I should be thinking about food right now. I feel sick to my stomach. So badly, that I get up off my seat and say, “I … have to go.”
“Where?” he asks as I run out the door and throw it all up somewhere in the bushes. “Jules?”
“Just … go eat,” I say, trying not to be worried even though I am.
Being sick isn’t the problem; it’s the fact I’m sick in the jungle.
I immediately touch my forehead to make sure I’m not feverish, but I’m not. And now that it’s all out, I feel much better. What if it’s some bad kind of virus, though? There’s no medicine here apart from some of the herbs I’ve found. If it gets really bad, there’s no doctor I can go to. No hospital to visit.
We’re all on our own … and somehow that thought freaks me out.
The door slams open, and Lock storms outside. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” I cough, but it only makes more bile rise.
“You aren’t,” he says.
I spit it out and wipe my mouth on a leaf, then I walk to the water barrel and dunk in a cup, taking a sip. “I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie.”
“Why? Does it matter?”
His brows furrow. “Something bothering you? You sound angry.”
I sigh. “Look, forget it, okay?” It doesn’t matter. He wouldn’t understand. He likes it here.
“Why? You’re sick.” He grabs my hand. “Come inside.”
He drags me along, and I struggle to stop him. “Let go.”
“No, you should be in bed,” he says.
“I feel fine,” I reply, trying to jerk free, but he won’t release me from his grip. “It was the food.”
