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He pounced, this time making sure to place his entire weight on me. I was forced onto my back to stare up at him as he straddled my hips, and I became instantly aware of the hard protrusion digging into my stomach as he leaned forward.
The man had been aroused while chasing me.
God save me, I thought, taking shallow breaths, trying to gulp in air.
His voice ghosted over my ear as he grinned. “You may be quicker than me, my brat princess . . . but I still know the forest better than you.”
I growled and snapped at him like an animal, my teeth chomping down inches from his chin as he reeled back and let out an excited grunt. His eyes gleamed in the early-afternoon sun.
I writhed and struggled, balling my hands into fists. “No you don’t!” I yelled.
He reached between my legs, staring at me, and made contact between my thighs. “Now for my reward.”
I squeezed my legs together, trapping his wrist.
Then I punched him in the chest.
The air whooshed out of his mouth, and I banked hard to the left to try and buck him off me.
He stumbled, eyes widening in surprise—clearly not expecting me to keep resisting and fighting.
We became a tangle of limbs, rolling sideways, wrestling in the grass and mud. I tried to bring our momentum closer to the tree—and he tugged me back toward him. The excitement in his eyes doubled as we flailed and swung.
Will Scarlet wasn’t much taller or bigger than me, but he was all wiry muscle and honed precision. He knew how to move—even on the ground like wrestlers—in a way that I simply couldn’t compete with.
His arms tightened around me. I tried to knee him between the legs again. A cruel smile came to my lips as his eyes flashed, but he managed to scoot his knee in to block my attack, and then nestled in between my legs.
He lodged his knee between my thighs, the friction bearing down on my cunt.
I sucked in a breath. The fight sizzled inside me, smoldering like a spent fire. I clamped my jaw down and gritted my teeth, trying to resist what he was doing.
I threw another lackluster punch at him, but he caught my fist this time. With both hands free, he easily overpowered me and managed to snag both my wrists.
He held them high above my head, even as we remained on our sides on the forest floor. Nature spoke around us.
I could think of nothing except for that wedge of heat between my legs, rubbing vigorously as he toyed with me. I blinked rapidly and tried to fight off his advances. Then he struck a particularly sensitive spot and my eyes rolled.
“Keep fighting, little thorn!” he ordered. His face lunged forward and he kissed me ravenously, stealing the final remnants of my breath.
“I-I can’t,” I moaned, my body exhausted. “Not when you’re . . . doing that to me.”
“If you expect me to stop . . .”
“Keep expecting?”
He smiled that dark, dangerous smile of his. I could taste the earth and mud and heat on his lips. The faint hint of cinnamon mingling with the sweat and the bark of the trees.
I had no idea where he’d come from—how he’d caught me—but the fact remained the same: He had won.
Now I was expected to give myself to him. It was more difficult than I thought it would be, because I wanted to continue fighting.
The more he ran his kneecap between my legs, the damper I became. The harder he gripped my wrists in his rough, callused hands, the more my nipples pebbled and my clit engorged.
I needed to be out of my pants.
With both of our hands occupied, he lunged forward with his face again, dipping toward my chest.
I gasped and wrenched back, unsure what he was trying to do. His teeth clamped down on the neckline of my loose tunic and with a great ripping sound he tore it down the middle. With his fucking teeth.
