Page 47 of Lost to the Woods

I pushed inside.

Inch by inch, the handle disappeared into her tight, wet pussy hole, her body accepting it like it was made for her. Her back arched slightly, a whimper catching in her throat. As if she wanted it.

My other hand found her throat, fingers curling just enough to feel her pulse fluttering beneath my grip. The leather looked so good around her creamy neck. Her eyelids fluttered just slightly, adding more thrill to this sick little game.

And then I fucked her with the knife.

Slow at first, savoring the way her body resisted, then yielded. Then harder, rougher, until her breath came in sharp little gasps, until her fingers twisted in the cushions, and her hips lifted off the couch, chasing the sensation.

“Mmm, Ghost… please…” Her voice was slurred with sleep, but I heard it. Heard my name spill from her lips like a prayer.

I leaned in, my lips brushing her ear. “You should have let me in, my little Valentine.”

Then I twisted the handle inside her, and her body clenched around it, her whimper dissolving into something raw, something broken. I could see how her walls kept contracting around the handle as she greedily tried to milk it. I knew she was lost in a fantasy of my cock buried deep inside her, breeding her tight little pussy.

When she finally stopped pulsing around it, I pulled the knife free and brought it to my lips. I couldn’t help myself. I licked the handle clean, and the taste of her flooded my mouth as I lapped at it, groaning.

Still obsessed.

Still a fucking slave to her.

I despised her with my whole being, but my cock throbbed in my pants to the point of insanity.

I pressed the blade to her throat and yanked at the zipper of my jeans, my hard-on springing free—heavy and aching. The rush of control burned through me as I stroked slowly, looming over her limp body. Her tits rose and fell with each breath, her nipples still stiff from coming. Fuck, she looked so fine like this—unaware, vulnerable,mine. Her pussy so tiny underneath my cock. Just one thrust and I would know what heaven felt like.

But she didn’t earn that. I wouldn’t give her this pleasure, not now, even if it meant more misery for me.

I dragged the tip of my cock up her stomach, over her ribs, across her perky tits, watching the way her skin pebbled under the wet trail of precum I left behind. She didn’t wake, of course. Just a little sleepy sigh, a shift of her head. My pulse hammered, my grip tightening as I teased higher, tracing her collarbone, the hollow of her throat. Then, her mouth.

Soft. Warm. Slightly open.

Too tempting.

I pressed the head of my cock against her lips, smearing my precum across them.

Fuck, that got me even harder.

I nudged until her mouth opened wider, and I could feel her tongue pressed against my cockhead in some unconscious reflex. My hips jerked.

“Yeah, take it,” I rasped, pushing in, just enough to feel her breath hitch. Her lips were damp, slack, and pliant.Shit.I thrust shallowly, my free hand gripping her hair, holding her still as my hips jerked. The heat, the wetness enveloping me—God, it was better than I imagined. She was a perfect little cocksucker like I knew she would.

With my balls drawing up, I thrust harder, slipping farther down her mouth. She stirred, a muffled sound catching, but it was too late.

“Gonna fill that pretty mouth,” I growled, fingers tangling in her hair, holding her still.

A couple more pumps before I groaned loudly and came hard, spilling into her, watching her throat work around me as she swallowed in her sleep on instinct.

Good girl.

I didn’t pull out until I was spent and a thin trail of cum dripped from her lips onto the couch.

She’d never even know what happened. But she’s tasted it in the morning. And that? That was the part that excited me the most…

I pump inside my fist the final time remembering that thrill of using her mouth and thick ropes of my cum splash against the shower tiles and floor.

Pathetic.

But it’s okay, because I know this is the last time I’m doing this shit. After today, Bunny will be mine.

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