Locked (Savage Men 2)

Nudging my legs apart with his hand, he pushes himself against me.

A gasp escapes my mouth as the tip is right near my entrance.

“Shhh …” he whispers into my ear. “Let me give it to you.”

He penetrates me without holding back, thrusting into me completely to the base.

I let out a loud squeal, but only half is audible because his hand has already covered my mouth. “What did I say?” he growls near my ear. “Shhh …”

He plunges into me with furious strokes, grasping my waist to go even deeper. My eyes sting with tears from his size, and how fast he’s going. I’ve never been fucked this roughly, this carnally. He’s a fucking animal … claiming what’s his. Staking his territory by planting me against the rock and taking me hard.

A real savage.

And I don’t even fucking resist.

My brain is numb with need. Delirious with desire.

It’s like he’s fucking all my reservations out of me. Stripping me of my humanity. Leaving only the raw need.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans, thrusting even faster.

He takes a fistful of my hair and pulls my head back until he can kiss me on the lips, all while fucking me. I feel humiliated. Offended. And so goddamn thirsty for more.

His animalistic fucking is like an aphrodisiac to me, only sparking my lust even more.

“You wanted this too, didn’t you? All along, you wanted me to fuck your pussy raw,” he growls, pulling my head back even farther. “Say it, Jules.”

“Yes,” I moan as he plunges in to the base.

Immediately, he covers my mouth with his, his tongue dipping in with fervor.

“Let me give you what you need,” he groans. His cock pulses inside me, veins bulging, thick and throbbing. And I’m practically drooling as he bangs me against the hard rock.

“Fuck yes, Jules!”

There’s nothing sexier than hearing him say my name.

A loud howl bursts out of his lungs and then he explodes. Right inside me.

Warmth fills me, and I mewl as he pours out his seed, again and again, forcing me onto his dick until every last drop is emptied.

As he slowly pulls out, the hormones that clouded my brain start to dissipate. And the reality of what we’ve done sinks in.

We had sex …

Unprotected sex.

Chapter Sixteen

Accompanying Song: “Close” by Nick Jonas ft. Tove Lo

Lock

She hasn’t spoken a single word to me in days.

Not since we fucked in the lake.

I don’t know why, but every time I attempt to start a conversation, it’s as if I’m talking to a wall. She refuses to even acknowledge I’m here, which pisses me off. Have I done something wrong? Have I insulted her?

Who knows, but she won’t tell me.

I want her to be happy, but it’s proving to be difficult when she won’t even tell me what she wants from me.

It’s because of what I did. What we did. Even though she won’t admit it, she had just as much a part in what happened as I did.

She peeked at my cock. Couldn’t stop herself from letting me fondle her.

And then she ran, and I followed her and claimed her anyway.

She didn’t stop me either.

She wanted me to fuck her, and now she regrets it.

That’s what this is. It has to be. Why else would she continuously stomp around the hut while throwing angry glances my way without acknowledging I even exist?

She’s not mad at me. She’s mad at herself for letting me in.

But I don’t regret staking my claim. Not even for one second.

That pussy was the most delicious thing I’ve tasted in a long while, and I fully intend to lick it again. It’s only a matter of time before she gives in to temptation. And I’ll be right there to kiss her and make all the doubts disappear.

Meanwhile, I’ll just watch with amusement as she toils with my equipment, trying to construct god knows what. Some kind of oval-shaped bench or something. I don’t fucking care. I enjoy seeing her get all worked up.

I don’t know what it is about us, but the more we hate each other, the more we seem attracted to each other. And I don’t even fucking mind. It’s been such a long time since I last felt this … let alone any kind of emotion. I welcome it with open arms—including her—no matter how fussy she is, or how cold she can get, or how badly she wants to get rid of me.

She’ll never fully erase me from her memories anyway.

As a matter of fact, I think she’s started taking on some of my quirks.

Most notably, she hasn’t worn her clothes since she took them off.

They’re lying on the ground, completely soaked in water mixed with herbs.

She’s not nude, though. Unfortunately, she’s wearing a makeshift banana leaf skirt now. Just like me, only hers looks like it took an awful lot of work to make. It’s completely pasted on her skin, sewed together with a piece of rope she stole from my hut. I don’t mind. If it makes her feel more comfortable, have at it.