Page 65 of Lost to the Woods

Then Ghost’s hips snap forward, and I gag hard, my body jerking. He grunts, satisfied, fucking my throat until his breathing turns ragged.

Something moves in the trees.

A low rustling. A shadow shifting. A low whisper.

My stomach lurches. My pulse pounds. And my hands try to push back against his thighs, but Ghost doesn’t budge.

“Keep your mouth busy.” His voice is a low hiss, dark and commanding. His fingers tighten in my hair, keeping me locked in place as he picks up the pace. He’s relentless. The sounds coming from me are obscene—wet, choked, desperate.

I can’t breathe, can’t think.

The woods groan around us.

Another distant whisper.

A snap of a branch.

I try to pull back again, but his grip is iron-tight. I make a panicked noise, as fear crawls up my spine, but he’s in control.

He won’t let me go.

The corner of my eye catches more movement, and I hear more whispers, low and guttural, echoing around us. They sound real. Too real.

And there’s this gut-wrenching sense of beingwatched.

I panic, my nails digging into Ghost’s thighs like needles, my body tensing. He notices, but he doesn’t care. He yanks my hair harder, tilting my head, and deep throats me in fast, long strokes. My head gets fuzzy at the edges, but then his cock swells, growing even harder, and I hear his whimper.

“Fuck, baby! Oh, don’t stop. I’m gonna cum…”

He groans, thrusting one final time, shuddering hard as he spills down my throat. Hot. Thick. Unrelenting.

My throat works around his pulsing length as I struggle to swallow, and some spills down the corner of my mouth. Ghost watches, speechless, his breath shaky. I blink up at him, my tongue swirling around the swollen head of his cock, collecting the last drops from the tip.

“Goddamn, Bunny,” he exhales, finally pulling out.

I gasp for air, my chest heaving, my body trembling, but I take advantage of his momentary orgasmic haze.

I try my luck.

My fingers reach back to the knife handle left embedded in the tree. It’s still slick with my juices, slippery, but before I can even get a proper grip, he yanks me down onto my stomach. The camera rolls on the ground after he drops it again, still recording. His weight pins me to the dirt as he completely overpowers me, mounting the back of my thighs and yanking my arms back in his grip.

I never stood a chance.

“What did I tell you?” His voice is a growl, his breath hot against my ear. “You disobey me—you get punished. Did you think I was fucking around?”

The knife’s handle presses against my asshole, and I scream in shock. My whole body locks up, muscles clenching against the intrusion.

Ghost laughs. “Never been fucked here before, have you?”

I shake my head violently, clawing at the soil, trying to get away—which is pointless, of course. His tongue last night was the most experimenting I ever did, and he fucking knows it.

“We need to work on opening you up,” he murmurs, and I feel his thumb replacing the knife. The leather teases my tight opening in slow, deliberate circles. “I need all your holes to serve me… To serve us.”

Us?

I freeze.

His grip on my wrists loosens as he shifts his hand up my spine, then twirls it around his forearm.

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