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51
The thought makes me slow down. I peel away from him, breathless. This is not the Luke I know. The real Luke would be horrified. He treats me with respect and love at all times, not as a cheap fucktoy waiting to be expended. As he paws at my breasts, his fingers dig in like daggers.
“Give me more,” Luke demands, his voice loud and imperious and unsatisfied. “I needmore.” His hand thumps the ground mercilessly, unfeelingly, and several twigs beside him break in half.
He’s a bratty prince giving orders from the dirt.
“You aren’t in your right mind,” I tell Luke quietly as he rocks insistently against me. But he doesn’t stop. Instead, he picks me up bodily, his arm muscles bunching, and hauls me against his cock again. I don’t resist.
I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. Luke is built in ways I am not: more height, more muscle, more might, more vantage. I’m puny against him — and weirdly, that’s a thrill in itself, my utter inability to save myself.
Because that’s another thing. I don’t want to.
Obviously this only applies to a very small subsection of men, namely the chiefs, but I secretly love feeling this way. Being theirs. Being controlled. Being used. The way Luke uses me as a tool to get off, his face cast into ecstasy, when I know he’s normally nothing like this… It’s a turn-on, I can’t deny it. And so I make my body available for him. I let him do to me as he pleases, while I grow wetter above him.
“I’ll show them,” Luke growls, slamming his mouth against mine, building a prison for me with his tongue. I’m pinned into place and I can’t react. He snarls up at me, vicious with rage. “Fuck them.” I don’t know who he’s talking to or about, what sight has made him break like this. He grips hold of my hair and I cry aloud at the brutality as he angles my ear to his mouth. I go still, because it’s all I can do. “They want to see what I can do?” he mutters, his breath a hot violent rush against my ear. “How about I fuck you? Make them see what they haven’t got.”
It’s a sick oath, a darkened promise. Luke’s teeth nip at my tendons. A gurgle is trapped in my throat, which Luke destroys by tugging my head sharply. He’s cruel. It’s painful. It becomes a power-play, of who can fight for victory and weaken the other. I grind deeper into his clad cock until, distracted by the dark pleasure weaving between us, his fingers lessen on my hair and I’m able to move my head again. I’m panting, stunned by his strength. The little actions I do to make Luke less hurtful… in the state he’s in, it feels like trying to tame a tiger.
“You feel so good,” Luke hisses, his hands clawing up my shirt. He tears it from the confines of my skirt, his fingers crawling up my body and grasping my ribcage like a trophy. “So good… Jessa…” I swallow, my name an unexpected treat from his mouth. He is aware, then, that on some level he’s doing this. This is happening. The cool October air attacks my skin like needles as Luke lifts my shirt, exposing me to the forest. His palms slide up my bare breasts, and he groans, so deeply masculine and destroyed, his already hard length seemingly doubling from the touch. As he squeezes me tightly, my head tips back, my bitten throat put on display by the small shaft of moonlight slanting through the trees.
Luke’s breath grows ragged as he continues to angle against me, his hips bumping into mine like a compulsion. For Luke, he’s on the verge of something spectacular. For me, the ache between my legs is a hot, bruised thing, pleasure building behind it without a release in sight. My eyes don’t leave Luke’s face as he contorts into hedonistic freefall, his mouth partly open and panting, his eyelashes long and flickering like an oscillation.
He grabs at my nipples, dragging them into pert little nubs purely to play with. I writhe upon his cock like a demon, needing the release that’s so far buried out of reach, needing him to take pity on me and shower me with everything I want.
He doesn’t. His hands slide down to my hips and freeze their movement as punishment.
I groan into the night air, and I swear I see at that moment the ghost of a smirk. I know Luke is in there, and that cocky little expression might just be entirely him.
I angle myself across his body, pressing my lips against that precious, perfect mouth. He responds at once, his kisses this time slower and more measured — and I know then that it’s Luke, it’s now all Luke. His hands stroke the sides of my hips, cherishing the feel of my body over his.
“Come for me,” I murmur against his lips, riding his stiff cock when I’m free to move again. My hands are still clasped around his ears and he’s unable to hear me. “Come for me.”
It happens tumultuously — Luke’s body seizes like slate before he shatters with a tremendous roar. His eyes snap open, zapped with alertness, as pleasure blasts and radiates from his soul and washes over me. We lie connected in the dirt, surrounded by the depth of night and even darker trees, catching our breaths as normality, or something like it, slowly returns.
Luke’s fingers graze my lips in fascination. “Strange,” he murmurs. “It felt like a dream. But I knew it was happening.” Hesitantly, he reaches back and removes my hands away from his ears. “They’ve stopped. The voices have stopped.”
“What were they saying?”
“They weren’t saying anything,” Luke answers grimly. “They were laughing.” When I tilt my head to the side in curiosity, he expands: “Cold. Mocking. Deafening. It was horrible. A crowd of a thousand different voices — all laughing at me.” He shivers beneath me. “You were the only thing that blocked them out.”
Together we lie in meditative silence, neither of us speaking or moving as we listen instead to the minutest of sounds around us — the soft crinkle of leaves, the arrhythmic whistle of wind, the regular in-out of our twinned breaths. I find myself feeling safe, curled and coiled between Luke’s arms, for the first time in this forest at ease and unconcerned.
“It seemed final,” Luke says after a while, “that time. I don’t think there’ll be anything more. I feel… at peace.”
“Same,” I say around a contented yawn. I pause. “Well. Most of me does.” I give him a small, meaningful smirk, and guide his hand between my legs. Luke glances up at me in surprise, laughing slightly. He buries his hand deeper between us, and I settle my head against his shoulder, breathing in the warm soapy scent of his nape against the lush nature of the forest floor.
His fingers curl gentle circles over my underwear and around my clit. A teasing finger delves beneath the snap of elastic to pleasure the nub itself. My lower stomach squeezes with satisfaction at the sensation, and Luke kisses lightly across my face — the Luke I know, so different from the monster that the voices had briefly unleashed within him.
It’s the most relaxed orgasm I’ve ever had, in the least expected of places. It’s as if it slips out of me. My body contorts lightly above Luke, a silent sigh in the air, a drifting cloud in the sky, before I seep boneless and sleepy on top of his broad chest. He wraps his arms around me to keep me secure. I could stay like this for hours, curled into Luke and held steadily by his large palms, listening to the soothing drumbeat of his heart.
“I don’t want to move,” I murmur against Luke’s lips as they continue their journey across my face, trailing kisses like heartfelt apologies for his behavior from earlier. “I’m so comfortable.”
“We’re so close now. I swear I can feel it.” He pats my cheek lightly. “Come on. The sooner it’s over with, the sooner we can get back. And then everything will be sunshine and rainbows once again.” He smirks, adding, “At least, that’s what Rory keeps insisting about this bloody ritual, so…”
“Maybe we can get a receipt as proof,” I say. “When — I meanif— the world goes to shit, we can use the receipt as evidence that we completed the ritual and deserve better.”
“That’s what the stone is for,” Luke points out. “You put a stone in the loch and bring one back. It confirms to everyone that you were at the loch. Allegedly, you don’t get stones the way you do at the end of the forest.”
