Page 15 of His to Fear
I flinch when he pulls the axe from the tree and plunges it into another spot. He chuckles at my reaction. “I want to cut open your clothes with this.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“One swing, and this dress will lie in shreds on the forest floor. What will your little friends say then, hmmm?”
He pulls the axe free from the bark, pulling it closer to me, and drags the handle down between my legs. I’m so fucking turned on, I can’t do anything but accept whatever is happening.
I gasp in protest, remembering the sticky—what must befake—blood dried on the sharp blade.
He shushes me. “Let me make you feel good.”
His words curl around me like smoke as he holds the object steady against me.
“Not unless you untie me.”
“You’re not the one making the shots here,” he says, right as he holds the axe steady against the fabric of my tights, just barely brushing against my clit.
Swirls of desire coil inside me when the axe brushes against the sensitive spot. I’m too far gone, unable to help myself, beginning to grind against it, ignoring the guilt flooding me.
“That’s it, little fangs. Grind against the axe.”
I shouldn’t, but I do. I should demand he let me go, but I don’t.
I ride the axe, seeking that friction which overtakes every sense, overpowers the coldness of the night. I pant out, feeling his other hand wrap around my waist to hold me steady, despite the rope doing its work.
Feeling his bulge isn’t helping my case either, and a small, barely audible moan comes out.
I should fight this. Should scream for help. But for some reason I can’t comprehend, I don’t.
“Feels good, doesn’t it? Having a dangerous little weapon so close to you.”
Through the layers of fabric, my clit reacts to the axe, holding it steady while I grind against it, seeking pleasure in the midst of this madness. My hips move on their own volition, and I’m lost in desire, unable to stop.
“Just like that, little fangs,” he purrs, and his words make me flush and whimper. “Keep riding the axe.”
And fuck, I do. Until I’m breathing, moaning, fucking panting. He’s there, holding me through it all, until I feel as if I might fall apart.
I’m so close to coming.
“Nadia?”
A voice echoes in the distance, coming all the closer by the second.
I can feel the stranger swallowing, his Adam’s apple moving as he does so. Is he affected by myname?
“Looks like your friends are coming, after all.”
I hear footsteps crunching against dry leaves, and before I know it, the rope is unsecured around my waist. The axe disappears right along with the stranger’s presence, as if he was never there to begin with.
I’m panting, trying to catch my bearings as I rub my sore wrists. It feels like my entire body is set on fire, in desperate need to come undone.
I’m falling in reverse rather than falling right off that cliff that brings the greatest pleasure. Anti-climactic all on its own, leaving me frustrated and desperate.
Fuck, this isn’t good.
I shouldn’t be affected by a goddamn stranger I don’t even know the name of.
But I so fucking am.
