Page 16 of Pounded in the Patch
Lost to him. To this place. To the awakened feeling growing inside my chest.
He doesn't tease this time, and doesn't build slowly. His tongue finds my clit immediately and works it in firm circles, making me arch and strain against the vines holding me in place. The feeling is overwhelming—his hot mouth, the rough texture of his beard against my inner thighs, the cool October air hitting the most sensitive parts of me.
I try to hold back, try to maintain some shred of dignity, but it's useless. Within seconds, I'm grinding against his mouth out of desperation, chasing another orgasm that I shouldn't want but need more than air.
"That's it," he growls against me, the vibration of his voice making me cry out. "Don't fight it. Give me what I want."
He slides two fingers back inside me while his mouth continues its assault on my clit, occasionally dipping between my folds, and the sensation is too much. I come again, even harder this time, my whole body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me.
This is wrong. This is so wrong, but it feels so…
When he finally pulls away, I'm hanging limp in my restraints, completely spent. My legs feel like jelly. I let my head fall back, collapsing into the dirt below me.
I watch him through hooded eyes as he rises to his full height, eyes never leaving my body. "Absolutely perfect."
He picks up the knife again, and he cuts through the vines holding me in place. They fall away, and I immediately scramble backwards, my legs too weak to hold me.
He stops me before I collide with the giant pumpkin, and his hands are surprisingly gentle.
"Easy," he says, his eyes shockingly kind. "This is only the beginning. Don’t quit on me now."
I stare up at him in confusion, taking in the sharp angles of his face in the moonlight. The devil mask is still there, but it’s easy to see how devastatingly handsome he is. His green eyes are bright with satisfaction, and what looks almost like... fondness?
That can't be right.
"I don't understand," I whisper, my voice hoarse from screaming through my orgasms. "What do you want from me?"
His smile is dark and predatory. "I want you to run again."
What?
"Run again?" I stare at him like he's lost his mind. "You just... and now you want me to..."
"Run," he says again, stepping back and giving me space, but his voice goes cold. "The night is young. We're just getting started. Nowrun."
I look around the field, trying to process what just happened. My body is still humming with the aftereffects of two orgasms, my mind reeling with confusion and shame and fear.
He could have done anything to me just now. He could have…
But he didn't. He pleasured me until I cried out for him, then cut me free and told me to run again.
What kind of monster is he?
"Why?" I ask, daring to question him.
"Because the chase is only half the fun," he says, his voice rich with dark promise. "And because I'm not nearly done with you yet."
I look toward the forest, then back toward the pumpkin patch. Every instinct I have is screaming at me to run toward the trees, to try to escape into the darkness and find help. But another part of me is curious about what will happen if I stay. If I play his game.
"Choose quickly," he says, and there's a spark of amusement in his voice now. "I'm going to start counting again in about ten seconds, and this time I won't be quite so... gentle when I catch you."
Gentle? I almost laugh at the absurdity of it. Nothing about what just happened was gentle.
But looking at him now, at the predatory gleam in his eyes and the way he's watching me like a cat watching a mouse, I realize he's probably right.
Run.
I break into a full sprint, willing my legs to hold me upright.
