Page 47 of Trapped with the Forest Ranger
I drag my gaze up. Wild green eyes lock on mine, burning with hunger and something darker.
There’s no gentleness in the way he fucks me. Just raw, unchecked need. He takes, drives, consumes—each thrust more relentless than the last, until I’m writhing, begging, broken open on a tide of pleasure too sharp to survive.
My name tears from his throat on a guttural groan as he follows me over, his body slamming into mine, shuddering with release. He collapses over me, breath hot against my neck, my name rasped like a vow against my skin.
After, he doesn’tlet go. He keeps me caged beneath him, hand still wrapped around my wrist, body heavy and real, as if he’s afraid I might vanish if he lets up for even a second.
And I don’t want to move. I don’t want to run. For the first time, I want to be exactly where I am—claimed, owned, utterly his.
The night doesn’t end there. It detonates.
Caleb doesn’t let me up. Not for long. Every time I think he’s spent, that the storm has passed, he proves me wrong—again and again. He’s a force, a relentless tide, as if years of restraint have snapped and now he can’t get enough, won’t ever have enough.
He takes me on my back, wrists pinned, his body heavy and commanding, driving into me until I’m breathless, hoarse from begging. He flips me, face-down, hands fisted in the sheets, his palm pressing between my shoulder blades as he fucks me from behind, rough and deep, his voice a low growl in my ear—telling me how good I feel, how he’s not letting me go.
He drags me to the edge of the bed, drops to his knees, spreads my thighs wide, and buries his mouth between them, licking me until I’m shaking, sobbing, pleading for mercy he never gives.
When I come, he groans like he’s starving for it, then flips me again, mouth devouring mine.
He remembers every filthy fantasy I whispered in the dark—and now he brings each one to life. Forces me to my knees, fingers tangled in my hair, guiding me as I take him deep, control absolute, praise rasping from his throat like prayer.
When I glance up, lips swollen, eyes glassy, he curses low, hauls me up, and claims me all over again.
At the window, he lifts me, pins me to the cold glass. Moonlight cuts across our skin—silver on sweat, shadow on muscle. One hand clamps aroundmy throat, the other fists in my hair as he takes me standing, whispering every dirty promise he ever made and making good on every single one.
The wall. The floor. The bed.
Even the boulder out back—the one I teased him about once, blushing and breathless, not really thinking he’d remember. But he did. Dragged me out beneath the stars, bent me over rough stone, and made me feel his hand branding heat across my skin, his voice low and dark in my ear as I shattered for him.
He uses me everywhere, anyway he wants. Sometimes fast and punishing, driving me to the edge, making me plead for more, for mercy, for him. Other times he slows, draws it out, makes me feel every inch, every second, until I’m shaking, writhing, begging.
No matter how he takes me, he never stops reminding me who’s in control. His hands own me—on my wrists, my hips, my throat. Holding me down. Pinning me open. Guiding every movement. His mouth marks me, his teeth leave proof. He wants me branded, ruined, and claimed.
And he watches—always watching. Possessive. Hungry. Reverent. Like he wants every sound I make, every tremble, every broken gasp. He wants to ruin me, and he does. Again and again, until I’m boneless, shattered, sobbing his name into the dark.
I’m raw, aching, utterly spent. He gathers me into his arms, pressing kisses to my hair, my shoulder, the hollow of my throat. His voice is rough, but there’s a tenderness in it and a promise that he’s not done with me yet.
I should’ve known better than to push.
Caleb isn’t a fantasy—he’s the storm that shatters fantasies.
More relentless than I ever imagined, more consuming than I can withstand, more dangerous than I was ever prepared for. He doesn’t just take—he unravels. Breaks meapart with every touch, every command, until there’s nothing left but need.
Even now, tangled with me in the aftermath, he’s still holding back, still keeping some dark, hungry part of himself on a leash. That realization terrifies me.
Thrills me.
Some reckless, desperate part of me wants to see what happens when he finally lets it go.
“I hadn’t planned this.” Caleb’s voice rumbles beneath my ear, low and rough, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath my cheek. “Told myselfnotto touch you. Not when you were stranded, soaked to the bone, looking for shelter. Didn’t want to take advantage.”
“The best laid plans…” I smile against his skin, tracing lazy circles over his heart.
“True.” His arms tighten, possessive, pulling me closer so I can’t mistake who I belong to. “My only regret is waiting so long to take you.”
“Who knew getting caught in a storm would lead me to finding shelter with a grumpy ranger?” I tease, but my voice is soft, still raw from everything he’s done to me.
“I wasn’t that grumpy.” A chuckle vibrates through his chest, deep and satisfied.
