Page 9 of Ranger's Secret

Her hand trembles as it lowers, testing the heat of a flame. She hesitates at her stomach, fingers splayed over bare skin, then slides lower.

Every muscle in my body tightens as her fingertips trail past her belly button.

Then… they disappear between her thighs.

She cups her pussy like she’s not sure if she’s going to go through with it. But she will. She fucking will.

My voice drops to a growl. “Do it. Show me how you fuck yourself, kitten.”

Her breath stutters, chest rising and falling as her fingers dip lower, teasing her folds. She starts slow, then sinks deeper with a soft gasp.

Her lashes flutter, eyes beginning to fall shut.

“Eyes on me,” I snap.

She startles slightly, her gaze lifting to mine. Her mouth parts in silent surrender, and she keeps her fingers moving, just like I told her.

“That’s it. Now fuck yourself harder. Finger that pretty cunt like you do when you’re alone, wishing it was me splitting you open.”

She jolts like the words hit her physically. Hesitation flickers in her eyes, right alongside desire. It’s beautiful. That perfect conflict.

Her hand moves faster. The soft, slick sound of her fingers fills the air between us. And it’s all for me.

My fists clench. My restraint is hanging by a thread.

“Say my name. Tell me who that pussy is wet for.”

“Jagger,” she gasps, her voice cracking as her fingers thrust deeper, circling just right. Her eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed.

“Keep your eyes on me,” I command, dragging her back into the moment. “Show me what you’ve been keeping from me.”

She’s close. I can see it in the way her thighs quiver, her muscles tensing as if she’s trying to hold back the inevitable. Those desperate little gasps give her away. She’s clenching her jaw, wincing, trying so damn hard not to fall apart for me.

And it only makes me harder.

I want to drag her over that edge. I want her to scream my name like it hurts.

Her body bows. A guttural moan rips from her throat. Her hips jerk once. Twice.

Then my name spills from her lips.

She comes for me. Hard. Shuddering against the ground. I watch her fall apart, watch her legs shake, her chest rise and fall in frantic bursts.

When she finally slumps back, I see it. Rage. Shame. Lust. The rawness of being owned and exposed.

“I hate you,” she breathes.

I step forward, crouching so she sees the truth in my eyes.

“You can hate me all you want, kitten. But you still came for me.”

She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have to. That silence is the sound of surrender.

I toss her clothes at her feet. “Get dressed.”

She fumbles, scrambling to cover herself. Her hands are shaking as she yanks up her panties, her leggings. The bra twists in her clumsy fingers.

I turn my back and head a few steps into the woods, my cock aching with everything I didn’t do to her. Her moans, her body, the way she said my name already branded into me.

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