Page 34 of Trapped with the Forest Ranger
“I want you bent over the damn boulder behind the shelter,” he rasps. “Your pants shoved down, your ass red from my hand before I take you so deep you forget who you are.”
My mouth opens. No sound comes.
“And that’s just the beginning.”
His voice lowers even further, rough and raw, like he hates himself for this—like he needs me to hate him for it.
“I want your mouth full of me, your eyes wet, your throat raw from how deep I fuck you. I want to hold your head in myhands and make you take every inch while you gag, choke, and beg for more.”
A helpless sound slips out of me—high, broken, wanting.
“I’ll hurt you,” he warns, barely audible now. “Not because I want to break you. But because I don’t know how to do anything less than everything. I don’t do soft. I don’t do careful.”
He leans in, lips a breath from mine, his voice shaking with restraint.
“Is that what you want?”
“Caleb…” My voice is wrecked.
“No.” His fingers curl into fists. “You started this. I’m just telling you the truth. I want you wrecked. Raw. I want to see my handprint on your skin, my name in your mouth, your legs shaking from how hard you came on my cock.”
I shake with the force of how badly I want him. How badly I want that.
“God, yes,” I whisper, fire licking up my spine. “If you knew the things I’ve imagined you doing to me… you wouldn’t be trying so damn hard to hold back.”
He growls—growls—low and primal, like he’s two seconds from snapping the last thread of control he has.
And God help us both when he does.
“Like what?” His voice scrapes through the tension like a blade—low, rough, already unraveling, and then his gaze sharpens, as if I’ve sucker punched him straight in the restraint.
"You want to know what I want?"
"Yes."
"Do you?"
“For the love of God…” His jaw ticks, like he’s about to combust.
“The tree behind the fox shelter.”My voice barely carries over the pounding of my pulse. “The way it curves just right… Every time I saw it, I pictured you pressing me against the bark. My wrists tangled in vines. Your mouth everywhere.”
His breath hitches.
My lips are too dry to speak, but I do. Because now that the dam has cracked, there’s no stopping this flood. My body is aching and ready… for him.
“I’ve pictured you taking me against nearly every tree out there. Bark tearing my jacket. One hand on my throat, the other locked around my hip—holding me in place while you fuck me like you need it. Like you’d die if you didn’t.”
“Fuck.” The word explodes from his mouth, guttural and harsh, like it rips something loose inside him.
“I’m not done.” My voice is trembling, desperate, unashamed. “That boulder behind the shed—your hand, my ass. I want that. I need that. I want your control. Your craving. Your edge. I want all fifty shades of your darkness and everything beyond. Don’t hold back for me.”
His whole body vibrates with tension. His hands clench into fists, jaw rigid, chest heaving.
“It’s like someone carved you out of sin and stubbornness,” he mutters, voice low and ruined, “and dropped you on my porch just so I could break you open.”
“Maybe.” My knees go weak. The air between us pulses like it’s alive.
His hand twitches. Once. Twice. Like he’s seconds from giving in.
