Page 157 of Love Me in the Dark
Seated by the fire, his massive body crouched low, muscles flexing with every move, he tore into the dried meat with his teeth, no utensils, no manners, just primal need. I sat opposite him, pretending not to watch him, as my stomach rumbled, but I was studying his every motion like my life depended on it.
Because maybe it did.
He didn’t look at me much. But when he did… God. It was like I’d stepped into the path of a predator mid-hunt.
Firelight danced across his dirt-smeared skin, glinting off sweat and scars I hadn’t noticed before. His hair hung in wild ropes around his face, casting jagged shadows on his sharp cheekbones and squared jaw. He didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. Just chewed slowly, like he was thinking. About what, I couldn’t say.
My stomach growled loudly, but I didn’t ask for food.
I didn’t want to owe him anything.
After he finished eating, he licked the salt from his fingers. One by one. Watching me now. Eyes low. Hungry again, but not for food.
Then, without shame, he leaned back on his elbows, spread his legs, and wrapped his giant hand around his cock.
I went still.
The air shifted. Turned hot, dangerous. Something ancient stirred in my gut.
Brute didn’t make a sound. His hand moved in a slow, steady rhythm. Not just stroking, claiming. His blue eyes stayed fixed on me like he wanted me to see. Wanted me to understand. This was what he’d do to me, when he decided to take it further. This was a preview. A warning. Or a promise.
He was massive. Thicker than any man I’d ever been with. Veins tracked his shaft like roots, disappearing under the hand working him with terrifying purpose. Every time his fist met the swollen tip, he exhaled through his nose, deep and heavy.
My pulse thundered in my ears.
I wanted to look away.
I didn’t.
Was this supposed to scare me? Intimidate me? It worked.
But a traitorous heat bloomed low in my belly all the same.
Brute never touched himself fast, never seemed desperate. He stroked himself like a man with all the time in the world, like he was imagining something—someone—specific. Me. My mind whispered it even as I told myselfno.
When he came, he didn’t warn me.
A low grunt escaped him as thick ropes of come spilled across his stomach. He leaned his head back and groaned softly, the sound like distant thunder.
Then his eyes snapped open, sharp, unblinking. Still on me.
He didn’t clean himself.
He didn’t speak.
He just let his cock go soft and lay there, basking in the afterglow with the same ease he'd devoured his food.
I wasn’t afraid he’d come over now.
I was afraid of what would happen if I fell asleep before him.
He didn’t say a word.
Just rolled onto his side by the fire, closed his eyes like nothing had happened, and started snoring softly within minutes, completely unbothered, completely at peace.
I, on the other hand, was a fucking mess.
Every sound outside the cave, every rustle of leaves, every distant animal cry, felt sharper. Closer. More threatening.
