8. Sex in the Woods

When her body locked, then snapped its hold on her orgasm, his hands clamped down on her hips. He was still very much aware of his strength, even under that reflex, but his fingers still bruised her soft flesh as he pulled her tight onto his waiting tongue. The moment her juices rushed from her, his tongue was inside her, thrusting, withdrawing, delving in deep again to gather that slick syrup up and swallow it down. Steady growls rolled from him, vibrating through her swollen sex. He tossed his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose against her overly sensitive clit once or twice before he abruptly dropped her.

What happened next happened in two seconds, gave her no time between intense pleasure and pain. Once her back landed on the tarp once more, his hand pressed against her belly, holding her steady. He shifted forward, throbbing through every point in his body to be inside her. She was slick and hot and as ready as it ever would be. Knowing that pain was best done quickly, he angled his hips, tensed his legs, then slammed forward; the hard, thick length of his cock tearing through her hymen and stretching her quivering walls in one sharp push until it buried him to the hilt in her tiny body.

There he stopped with his hips ground firmly into hers to hold himself there while she adjusted. His breath came in rough pants, rushing through his grit teeth and his face was a mask of near painful pleasure mirroring the strain that was pushed on him to hold back his baser instincts. And he was doing it for her sake.

“Tell me when,” he hissed, speaking through his clamped teeth.

Emmalyn was so lost in the moment, in the intense pleasure that she almost didn’t notice when her hips landed against the ground. She wrapped herself up tightly in the afterglow's decadence. Only when his hand was on her stomach did she remember what was going to happen next. She shook her head. She didn’t want the pain. Her hands went up, placed on his shoulders. She tried to push him away, but it was too late. He wouldn’t be denied, and she knew it.

“No…please…wait…” she begged, just as he speared her with his hard shaft.

Farrel pressed his hips so hard against her she felt his hip bone slam against her body. She screamed… a long, pain-filled sound as her fingers curled, her nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she lay there under him. Her body screamed in agony at the pain it was just forced to endure. Not only that, her body stretched so far that she felt like she was on fire. Her breathing was sobs, but even those faded in time.

It took a minute for the sharp pain to lessen to where it was bearable for her to even think about him moving. She had bitten her lip again, but the sharp metallic taste was soon gone, her body being able to heal quickly. Perhaps that was why she could nod to him, letting him know it was alright. Her nod should have been enough to break the leash he had on his control. He had been holding back for that sign. Farrel waited with the excruciating grip of her sex on him, tortured by her heat. All of his animal instincts cried for him to pound into her. He had already spilled her blood, and she was still wet enough. His body wanted to damn her pain and find his own pleasure.

Still, he waited. And continued to wait even after she gave her stiff nod. He moved as if his joints had rusted. He leaned down to her, his elbows bent so he could lean his weight against them. When her soft breasts touched his chest, he trembled once, suppressing his instincts more and focused on his goal. His lips descended, feathering over hers like a ghost’s caress, then pressed firmly, molding to those full, soft tiers in a heated kiss.

His kiss seared her, coaxing her into relaxing even more; to open her up to him and when his tongue darted out for that opening to seek hers, he finally moved. Her lips parted for him, her tongue moved out to touch his.

The more he was gentle with her, easy with her body, the more her body responded to him. She seemed to heat for him again, soft moans forming on her lips to transfer to him. Her hips, by an instinct of their own, moved and rolled towards him, welcoming each thrust he gave her. That part of him that caused her so much pain slid slowly along her inner walls, each ridge seeming to draw on her slick flesh; the ridge of the smooth head massaging those sore muscles as it slid to her very entrance. When he plunged this time, it was a steady glide, stretching her again with his girth, then ground forward to dig in even deeper.

The longer he waited, the more she relaxed. Her thighs, having tightened around him once he tore through her, released their hold on him open for him, a silent invitation to continue. Emmalyn’s breathing slowed to a nice, steady pace and by the time his lips moved against hers, she was ready for him. Her hands let go of his shoulders and moved around to hold him to her, molding her body against his hard chest. Her lips moved off his as she nuzzled against the side of his neck, her moans coming louder the longer he moved inside her.

Farrel slackened his control in stages. She was getting slicker around him, letting him know better than her attractive moans that she was ready for more. When she wet him down, he thrust faster, making short, deep jabs; balls softly clapping against her bottom with each inward motion. The faster he went, the more heated the kiss got. His tongue danced around hers, drawing it into his mouth to draw and suck then released her only to change the angle. He nibbled at her mouth, sucking her plump bottom lip greedily.

The act itself was so animalistic, so very much like him. She lost herself to it, unable to stand up against it, not that she wanted to fight it. She could feel the deep bruises forming all over her body from the sheer force of his thrusts into her. Even with the pain of her body and his, her pleasure seemed to continue to mount. Her body was greedy, wanting and demanding more of him.

The surrounding heat built. More from his own reaction to blood rushing through his veins more heavily. Eventually, he broke his feast on her lovely kiss-swollen lips. His hands gripped down onto the tarp on either side of her head, holding it tight as he lengthened his strokes, hammering roughly into the soaked, swollen channel. Everywhere her satin skin touched him, her soft belly rubbing against his tensed abdomen, nipples brushing his chest with each jarring thrust, had his nerves tingling.

Her skin felt like it was burning, on fire, everywhere he touched her. The friction, the sweat…everything. She was being consumed and all she could do was cry out for more. Her body, so soon after finding its release, was ready again. She was tittering on the precipice of the void that was about to swallow her whole, and she didn’t care.

“Again, little healer,” he demanded roughly; hot breath panting out in puffs against her face. “Release yourself on me.”

It was his voice that was the last nudge that sent her over the edge. His command, his demand, forced her body to respond to him as her muscles clamped down on him again, holding him tight in an almost impossible vice grip. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder, her lungs begging for air as she screamed again, this time from pleasure.

A wholly bestial whimper escaped him when she came. The fresh assault of sweet musk hitting his nostrils combined with the clench of her walls around him forced his orgasm to boil up. She was too tight. Far too tight, and he withdrew a few inches until the noose around his shaft loosened enough for him to spill inside her. He came in a torrent of hot seed, thickly pouring into her willing body and filling her womb.

She cried out again as he grew thicker as he spilled inside her. Even though he pulled out of her a bit, she could swear she could feel his spurts hitting her on the inside. She felt his hot, thick liquid pool inside her and even drip out between them, as she couldn’t hold any more of him inside her. She cling to him desperately, as though her life depended on it.

The howl that tore from him turned primal, mirroring the monster in him and echoing out across the dark forest beyond their little bubble. Even as his spasms ebbed and his muscles gradually relaxed, the howl continued. But it wasn’t from him. Far fainter, from deeper in the forest, his brethren were howling in response to their climactic joining. Once he could breathe evenly, Farrel chuckled as a few more barks and howls ripped through the air. He lowered his head, nuzzling his face against the side of her neck, and let loose a purring sigh.

“They’re cheering for us.”