2
The woods were too quiet.
Not the kind of quiet that lulled but the kind that made your skin crawl, like something was waiting. Watching.
My hands were braced against the rough bark of the tree, wrists scraped and thighs slick. The air was heavy with pine and s*x, and I couldn’t stop trembling.
Behind me, he moved.
Slow.
Cruel.
His c**k was still buried deep, thick, pulsing, already hard again. I didn’t even know how I was still standing. My legs had gone numb, my cunt a raw, ruined thing. Every time he shifted, I felt the mess slide down the insides of my thighs—wet and hot and humiliating.
“Don’t move,” he murmured.
He didn’t need to say it. I couldn’t if I tried.
I was wrecked.
Dripping.
Bent over and silent because words had long since left me.
“Still so tight,” he mutte
