Page 15 of Lost to the Woods

I went still.

Fucking cuddling.

I didn’t do that shit. I didn’t do tenderness. Or warmth.

But Bunny?

She not only made me pretend to be a better human.

She made me want to try to be one.

So I laid beside her, let her curl up in my arms like I was something safe. Like I wasn’t the monster she should be afraid of. She fell asleep against my chest, so easily, so fucking trustingly, almost naïve. And I spent the whole night staring atthe ceiling, battling the hunger in me, going against my every goddamn urge.

I was good.

Mostly.

Until she started rolling her hips against my thigh, pressing closer and closer as she unconsciously searched for friction, whimpering quietly. Was she having a wet dream? So greedy even in her sleep.

She was driving me mad. Her body was warm, her breath soft against my skin. I could feel every inch of her, the way she fit against me like she was made for me. And her pussy…

Fuck, that sweet little wet pussy I wanted to have wrapped around my cock so fucking badly.

I could’ve had her. Right then, right there.

She wouldn’t have fought me. Wouldn’t have even woken up.

I could’ve buried myself deep inside her, could’ve made her mine in the way that mattered.

I didn’t.

But I’d lie if I said I didn’t touch her.

Just a little, though. Just enough to feel the heat of her flesh under my fingers.

My palm ghosted over the curve of her hip, down her thigh, then back up again—right where she needed it most.

Soft. So fucking soft. And soaked.

I told myself it was harmless. That she wouldn’t know. That I wasn’t really doing anything wrong. Nothing she’d wake up and cry about. Nothing she’d despise me for.

But I knew the truth.

And still, I couldn’t force myself to feel guilt.

My fingertips circled the tight opening of her pussy, then slid up the slit to her tiny, buzzing clit, gently rubbing.

My other hand grasped one of her breasts, kneading while pinching her hard little nipple between my thumb and forefinger.

She moaned something inaudible, her hips moving desperately against my fingers. It wasn’t long before she gasped and her hips jerked for the final time.

I withdrew my fingers slowly, slick with her arousal. Brought them to my nose and breathed her in—deep, like a depraved addict, letting that sweet, musky scent soak into me.

Damn.

My cock throbbed against the zipper of my jeans, aching with the tension coiled low in my gut.

I licked my fingers. Every last trace of her. Like a fucking animal. Like I deserved it.

---