Twelve Days of Hawtness

Day 6 | BOUND Little Bird - Two: NELLE | A. Larksen

I TWISTED INSIDE Graysen's his embrace, my hands on his chest, his pecs flexing beneath my palms, the hard ripple of abs against my lower chest and the ridgeline of his erection throbbing against my stomach. With his kiss, all my churning thoughts evaporated.

My powers slipped free, stirring the air and the cedar scent of him in swirling currents, rustling leaves and teasing our hair. The air hummed with static electricity. The creature had been burned out and was curled and sated inside, but it was curious too, pricking with anticipation, purring with the pulsing ache of my core.

His hands slipped underneath my dress, stroking my outer thighs, and it felt so godsdamn good that I shivered at the contact. Feeling my response beneath his palms made his hands flex in reply. He tugged at my bottom lip with his teeth, slowly releasing, with a groan that danced along my mouth and sank into my bones. He blazed a sinuous path of open-mouthed kisses down my neck, to my shoulder, pushing the dress aside to nip and suck on my breast. I wove my hands through his hair, holding him to me, gasping with every swipe of his tongue along my nipple, echoed by his tortured groan.

Straightening, he took my elbows and turned me around. The fallen tree trunk pressed across my hips and for a moment confusion jarred my mind. What is he doing?

A touch—a large hand spread across my back as he pushed me forward. The rotten tree trunk pressed into my stomach as I bent over—patches of broken bark and smooth, slippery wood beneath my hands, mildew and a damp earthy smell perforating my nostrils—pushed further until I was balanced on my tippy-toes.

My skirt was flipped up, the cool air of the night kissing my bare skin. I was exposed like this and made vulnerable to him.

"Beautiful," he murmured. His body heat singed mine, that awareness bouncing between us, as one of his hands gripped the tree trunk next to my hand, his thumb grazing my pinky. He leaned further over me...and then...then...a light feathering stroke against my spine—not fingertips or his palm, it was the back of clenched fingers. Up and down and back up again and it burst into my mind what he was doing, pleasuring himself in long languid strokes.

Sudden panic flared. He was going to take me, my first time, here, pressed around this tree from behind. I would be facing away, unable to touch him, made powerless by the position he had put me in. My voice was shrill, my body pushing back, trying to shove my way free. "Not here, not like this."

He snatched my hair, fisting, arching my neck, my spine following. I gasped as a small shock of pain flashed across my scalp. My eyes slid sideways to him looming over me, eyes narrowed but burning bright with desire.

He growled, and all the fine hair on the back of my hair prickled. "You want rose petals scattered across a bed, candles and champagne? An inexperienced preppy-fucker climbing on top of you?" He bent and scraped his teeth down my neck—a lick of his hot, wet tongue along my collarbone. "You'll take me however I want you."

And just like those other moments, where his touch soothed me, my panic eased as the crisp smell of cedar whispered over me. It wasn't the woods, it was Graysen, the scent of him strangely calming. My breathing slowed, acquiescence flowing through me. "That's it..." he murmured, trailing the tips of his fingers between my shoulder-blades, following the rippled path of my spine to the middle of my back. His hand spread and he gently urged me forwards and back down, my stomach conforming to the tree trunk, my hair falling in tangled locks.

His fingers clenched the fabric of my panties. They were torn them from me, a scrap of white floating in the air and the dress was next.

The slap of chilly air on my bare flesh made me suck in a sharp breath.