Heart So Hollow (Dire Wolves Book 1), page 45
A streak of moonlight glints off his black eyes as he relishes my silence, “Bet you’ll tell me if I play with that needy little clit of yours.”
He stands up and steps around me, tugging his jeans back up to his waist. The bed of the truck shifts with his weight and his jeans brush against the soles of my feet as he kneels behind me.
“Maybe I should just decide for you,” he murmurs into my neck as he snakes his hand around my waist and reaches into the front of my shorts. “Goddamn, baby girl,” he moans when he feels how soaked I am, “I’ll punish you every day if it makes you this wet for me.”
Bowen pushes two fingers inside me and pumps them in and out of the slick pool between my thighs. Then he drags his slick fingers up to my clit, making my eyes roll.
“You’re not supposed to be in heat for another—” Bowen pauses and lifts his hand in front of me, rotating his wrist to look at his watch, “week and a half.”
A shiver runs up my back. How the hell does he know when I’m going to start ovulating? I barely know that on any given day. I guess if he has a major breeding kink, he would. But I can’t even respond because he’s slowly driving me mad, touching me in the best way while talking about me in the most animalistic terms.
Bowen starts working my clit faster, “If you like being tied to my truck, maybe I’ll keep you out in Jay’s barn for a few days.” I reach a fever pitch, oscillating between fear and exhilaration as I start to rock against his hand. “I bet he wouldn’t mind,” Bowen continues, pressing his mouth to my ear, “especially if I let him watch.” He reaches up and squeezes my throat, pulling me against his chest. The fear is screaming to be heard, but his agonizing touch keeps it at bay, “He thinks you’re real pretty,” Bowen drawls as he drags his lips across my shoulder. A moan escapes between my labored breaths as I feel the orgasm nearing, “Would you like it if Jay watched me fuck you—if he told me how to get you pregnant? By the end of it, those pills won’t do you any good.”
My breath catches as the rush approaches, but Bowen pulls his hand away and the pleasure dissipates, “Bowen…” I let out a groan and my head drops against his shoulder.
“You should know by now,” he growls, “I decide when you’re allowed to come. And I’m nowhere near done with you tonight.”
There’s a snap in the woods nearby, followed by a pop, and my eyes dart over my other shoulder. As if it matters—Sasquatch could be out there watching me, but I’ll never see it in the black on black of these woods.
Bowen’s tone softens at my reaction, “Are you afraid of the dark out here?”
“Kind of,” I mumble, “I’ve never been out this far.”
“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t leave you in Jay’s barn,” I feel his jaw tense against my temple as he smiles, “I’m not a total monster.”
“Is that the only reason,” I ask, pressing my forehead into his neck, “because it’s dark?”
“No,” he starts circling my clit again, making my breath catch, “he’s my guy, but I don’t trust that motherfucker that much.”
“But—” I stammer as I start grinding against his hand, “but you’d let him watch?”
He dips his fingers inside me, coating his fingers again, “I’d let him watch you come all over my cock and then laugh when he can’t do anything about it.”
“You’re sadistic,” I roll my ass back against his groin, “fucking sadistic.”
“So, I’ve heard,” Bowen murmurs in my ear, “but if you really want to be scared, you know there are stories about werewolves in these woods?”
My eyes flutter open as he strokes my throat up and down. When he sees the curiosity in my eyes, he grins and starts working my clit faster, sending electrical currents down to my toes.
“A long time ago,” Bowen breathes down my neck, “there was a string of murders, which is a big deal out here. All young women, found in the woods, and torn apart by an animal too big for anything around here. Then, some people over in Hellbranch started seeing something on their property. They woke up one night and saw it, said it was a huge dog man with pointed ears that walked on two legs. One of them shot it, swore they hit it, but it ran off…””
The tension compounds and I can feel the orgasm building again as he slides his fingers into my pussy, dripping and aching for him to finish me. The sound of his deep voice recounting nightmarish creatures in the woods drives me right up to the edge, but he senses it and abruptly stops, destroying the pleasure again.
“Bowennn…” I exhale, arching my back against him in desperation.
But he ignores my discomfort, waiting however long he deems acceptable before sliding his hand back to where it left off, “After that, the kids were attacked by something in the woods. They stumbled out the other side, screaming and covered in blood, but they survived. And then, all of a sudden, the murders stopped. People said they got ambushed by a werewolf and killed it. Then the cops waited ‘til dark, went into the woods, took out whatever it was, and covered the whole thing up. So, you might be afraid of coyotes now, but you won’t be if you ever hear them go silent. When the deer disappear and the woods go completely still, you’ll be praying to hear those coyotes then.”
The snaps and cracks echoing all around us put me on high alert, but only make his touch that more torturous.
“Bo…” it comes out as half whisper, half whimper.
Suddenly, Bowen pulls his face away from my neck, “The fuck you say, baby girl?”
“I said your name,” I exhale, dragging out the words.
“Say it again,” he commands, circling my clit faster, “just like that.”
“Bo…” my core pulses and I start grinding against his hand, “faster, Bo…”
Suddenly, he rips his hand out of my shorts and stands up, leaving me a wound-up mess on the floor. I whip my head around in time to see Bowen flip open his Buck knife with a click, making me freeze in terror. He moves fast, in jerky, rapid movements as he crouches next to me and pulls the straps taught, eliciting a gasp from me as they cut into my wrists. With a violent tug, he slices through the nylon and they snap, letting the blood rush back into my hands.
Bowen tosses the loose straps to the side and steps in front of me, “Run,” he booms as he fumbles with his jeans button.
“What?” I breathe, flexing my fingers and wrists.
“I said get your ass up and fucking run!” Bowen shouts, ripping his gun from its holster and emptying the clip into the woods.
My brain short-circuits and I let out a shrill scream, flinching at each bullet that leaves the barrel. Blind with terror, I scramble across the bed of the truck to the tailgate where I don’t even bother putting my feet first before tumbling off onto the dirt. Adrenaline propels me forward, my knees and feet scraping over leaves and twigs as I tear down the path back toward the house in a panic.
Ironically, fear blinds me to the darkness, so much that I can’t even feel the rocks and debris gouging the soles of my feet. I don’t know how long I run, but suddenly the path narrows and it doesn’t look like a vehicle could fit between the trees. I thought I was running in a straight line, but now I don’t know where the hell I am. Everything looks the same in every direction—dark and dense.
I stop and listen, every inch of my body quaking. I don’t know what I’m expecting to happen or what I should do. Bowen just shouted at me like a psycho and emptied his gun into the woods. And when I look down, I realize I’m naked from the waist up, only wearing my pajama shorts.
Why would he do that? Why would he do that when he knows…
Fucking asshole.
I start moving again, slower, but still with a sense of urgency. I need to get back to the house, or at the very least out of these woods. I don’t want to be out here anymore—with coyotes or werewolves. Sputtering curses as I try to catch my breath, I spy a break in the trees ahead where the moonlight is showing through. I can’t veer off-track if I don’t even know where I am, so I continue toward it.
When I make it to the clearing, I scuttle toward the middle where there’s more light. Gazing around, it doesn’t look like it breaks off into any clear paths. The only distinguishing element is a brush-laden treefall on the other end directly in front of me. I let out a frustrated huff, my eyes darting around while I decide what to do next.
Suddenly, something sharp hits my shoulder with a sickening pop, throwing me forward. Before I can even take a breath, there’s another sharp pop on my hip, and yet another at the top of my ass. Each one knocks the breath out of me and I pitch forward, stumbling to the ground with a thud.
Then comes the pain—a burning sensation radiating from each impact site. Half screaming, half hyperventilating, I reach back to grab my hip. And when I feel my skin, it’s wet.
He shot me.
Bowen fucking shot me.
My body starts convulsing and shaking uncontrollably as the screams erupt from my throat. My hand shakes, my fingers slick with the thick liquid as I grope over my shoulder and hip. The wounds hurt like hell, but I can still move.
Before I can even try to stand up, a tall figure steps through the trees into the clearing. It’s Bowen, still shirtless, and his shoulders are shaking as he swaggers toward me. When I finally stop screaming to take a breath, I hear his faint chortle beneath my gasps.
He’s laughing.
I’m bleeding out and Bowen’s laughing!
He comes to a halt, inches from my bare feet, soles black and ankles speckled with dirt and streaks of blood. The shadows split his face in half, shrouding his eyes and lighting up his mouth stretched into a wide grin.
“If you want to hide, stay out of the light.”
“What?” I cough, staring up at him in horror.
Bowen lifts his arm, and with it, the silhouette of a gun I don’t recognize, “It’s only paint, darling.”
I’m frozen with shock, my heart still racing and the splotches on my skin stinging in spite of the adrenaline overload.
He tosses the black paintball gun onto the ground and crouches down, sliding his hand over my foot, “Like I said, your self-awareness is for shit.”
Bowen grabs my ankle and jerks me down, knocking my elbows out from under me. Dead leaves crunch and scrape against my bare back as he drags me toward him. He glances at my shoulder and then sweeps his finger across the welt that’s forming. When he holds it up in front of me, the neon orange is unmistakable.
My chest heaves at the realization that I’m not dying—that I’m not actively bleeding out in the middle of the woods. And now, I hardly care that Bowen drove me, screaming and flailing, from the back of his truck, because now I’m not alone anymore. He swipes the paint across my cheek with a smile.
I shoot him an indignant look, “You shot me.”
“Well,” his smile turns menacing, “if you still want to be a little bitch, then you’re going to get treated like one,” he grabs my hips and flips me onto my stomach, tossing leaves into the air, “fucked in the dirt like the rest of the animals…”
I land with a shriek and catch myself before my face hits the ground. A rush of cool air sweeps over me as Bowen grabs the waist of my shorts and underwear and jerks them down in one motion. He hoists my hips off the ground, slamming my ass against his thighs, making my muscles tense with excitement when I feel him tearing at the button of his jeans.
I press my fingertips into the soft earth and brace myself, waiting for the one thing he’s been depriving me of since I set foot in these woods. And, a moment later, he drives his cock into me with such force, it knocks the breath from my lungs. Everything around me melts away and my cries turn to rhythmic moans with each thrust. Bowen wraps my hair around his fist and wrenches my head back so far that my arms come off the ground.
“Oh, God!” I cry out in pain and my hands fly behind my head, grabbing his wrist.
He grabs my waist and pulls me to his chest, still moving inside me, “God’s not out here, baby girl,” his voice is thick like syrup, “it’s just you and me. These are my trees and my dirt, and I decide who’s forgiven, and who leaves, and who doesn’t.”
As menacing as he sounds, I start rocking back and forth against him, wanting him deeper inside me. Maybe I’m just as unhinged as he is.
He loosens his grip and lets me fall forward until I catch myself on the ground, “Ask for my forgiveness now.”
“I’m sorry…” I murmur between breaths, moving my hips in sync with his, “I’m sorry…”
“Louder, baby girl,” he commands as his thighs smack against my ass, “I don’t believe you!”
“I’m…sorry!” my cries echo through the trees as I apologize for my transgressions, spoken and unspoken, in an effort that it might make a difference.
Bowen slams into me one more time and then gives me a firm smack and pulls out, making me wince. I push up to my knees, watching him as he rises and starts circling me. He stops square in front of me, his unbuttoned jeans hanging loose on his hips, and looks down at me with a chaotic mixture of satisfaction and disdain. Slowly, he saunters across the clearing to the tree fall where he turns around and slides down the rough bark into the leaves.
Bowen’s face softens and he actually smiles, “Let me hear it again,” he says, curling his fingers and beckoning to me.
I move to stand up, grit embedded in my knees, and survey the landmines of dead branches and thorny vines scattered across the clearing. Slowly lifting one foot after another, I move gingerly over the patches of grass and dirt littered with grit, dead leaves, broken twigs, and whatever carpet of debris stands in my way. Bowen watches me intently, his dark eyes unyielding to any emotion. And when I arrive at his feet, he reaches for my hand and pulls me into his lap.
He reaches into his jeans and presses his face against mine, “Let me hear it,” he snarls, “fucking whore.”
A grin creeps across my face when I feel how hard he is against my bare stomach.
I reach down and hold him steady while I slip his tip inside me, “Bo…” I breathe, sucking in a lungful of night air as I sink down, “I’m…”
His eyes fly open like he’s just woken up. I never call him what everyone else does, but he loves it the more I say it, “You’re what?” he kneads my ass, rolling my hips so he fills me completely.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur against his lips.
Bowen twists my curls around his fingers, “You know I’ll always take care of you, baby girl,” he breathes, “I’ve been waiting for you,” he bows his head and runs his tongue up my chest in a slow kiss, “you’re my goddess, my fucking queen, no one exists but you, and I’ll give you anything you want.”
With one more roll of my hips, he hits that perfect spot deep inside me. I press my forehead against his, raking my fingers through his hair, glistening with sweat as the orgasm starts building in my core. Then I start to chase it, riding him hard.
“Come on, baby girl,” Bowen teases, sliding one hand down between my legs, “show me why I decided to keep you.”
Finally, the wave crests and I let out a chaotic jumble of cries as I collapse on his entire length over and over, sending mind-bending tremors up through my chest. Suddenly, Bowen grabs my ass with both hands and rolls me onto the ground, coming down on top of me. The forest debris scrapes my back, needling my shoulders and my ass as he grabs my throat, squeezing hard enough to hit me with a surge of adrenaline that turns my aftershocks to pure bliss. He hitches my leg and starts driving into me, coming so hard that my ass lifts off the ground with every thrust.
When it’s over, Bowen’s hand falls away from my throat and trails down to my torso. He lets his head fall back onto his shoulders, his chest rising and falling as he inhales the night air through his open mouth. After he comes down from the high, he slowly falls forward, hovering over me in the dirt and leaves.
Bowen’s deep voice turns soft and serene, “You ready to go home now?”
“Are you still angry?” I murmur, curling my fingers around the backs of his forearms.
His mouth widens into a crooked smile, “Fuck, no,” he lifts his hand, tracing my features with his thumb, “I love you, Brett. You’re everything I want, and everything that no one else could be.”
I rest my hand on top of his as it moves gently over my cheek, over the grime and sticky remnants of the last time he rubbed his hand over my face.
“I love you too, Bowen,” I sigh, “I want to go home now.”
As soon as he pulls me to my feet, he wraps one arm around my back and the hooks his other behind my knees. He lifts me up and starts trudging back through the brush. Now that I’m still and my sweat’s dried, the night air feels cold against my naked body, making me curl in against his chest.
“It’s not far, I promise,” Bowen kisses my head as I shiver against him.
Waylon’s still in the cab of his truck, half asleep and wakes with a start when Bowen tugs open the passenger side door. With a nod of Bowen’s head, Waylon begrudgingly stumbles over the console and into the back seat, making room for me to sit. I’m still naked, and even though it’s a warm summer night, the forest feels like a meat locker.
Bowen opens the back door and leans across the seat, emerging a moment later with one of his black hoodies tucked somewhere among all the backpacks and gun cases. I pull it on, tucking my legs up into the body so only my toes stick out. And when Bowen climbs into the driver’s seat, still shirtless and his jeans hanging low on his hips with no belt, he extends his hand over the console like always. And, like always, I weave my fingers through his, holding our clasped hands in my lap as he drives us home.
●●●
“This shit’s really hard to get off,” Bowen’s short nails feel incredible on my skin, scratching my back as scalding hot water simultaneously runs over my body.
I stretch my neck from side to side under the shower stream, “I’ve never been shot with paintballs before. It fucking hurts.”
“That’s what the pads and helmets are for,” he states as he gently brushes flecks of neon orange from my skin as they come loose.
I shoot him a look over my shoulder, “Too bad I didn’t have any.”
