“Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it’s off to the keg I go.” I chuckle at my song and stumble again, this time falling forward. My hands reach out, and I smash into the frozen ground. “Ouch,” I hiss when my wrist bends the wrong way. I cradle it with my other hand and get to my feet.
I walk the remainder of the path until I hit the woods. When I find the keg, I grab the two red Solo cups stuffed in my coat pocket and cuss when I realize one cracked when I fell. “Shit.” I look around, hoping there are spares—
“Look who it is, the little stray.”
I turn to his voice, but it’s too dark. “What, are you following me? Don’t know how to take no for an answer?” The asshole appears out of the shadows, and I suck in a staggered breath. I’m embarrassed at how fast desire blooms in my belly. I bite the inside of my cheek and am thankful for the cold temperature that masks the real reason a shiver runs through me. His hair is wilder than normal, and despite the frigid temperature, he’s only wearing his leather jacket over a black shirt and ripped jeans. “You’re gonna freeze out here. Maybe you should be a smart little boy and turn back.”
He walks closer, and my heart rate picks up. Frost smoke from the chilled air pours from his parted mouth, and my gaze falls to his intoxicating lips. I should move with every step he takes, but I fight to stand my ground. I won’t back down to him, no matter how much I secretly want him to touch me.
“Maybe I’ll just steal your jacket,” he hums. “You look flushed. Seems like you can take off a layer or two.”
My thighs vibrate, and this time I do step back, my shallow breaths exposing my unraveling composure. “Yeah, right. I would let you freeze before helping you.”
Another step. One more back.
“Would you now?” The space between us keeps disappearing. The closer he gets, the harder it is to breathe. Why does he have to be so attractive—so mysterious in that bad boy way—and a huge asshole?
“Please don’t make me prove it. I’d love nothing more than to watch you freeze to death at my feet.” God, the lie pours off my tongue, and I struggle to swallow. “Seriously, beat it.” He still doesn’t stop, and my back hits the trunk of a tree.
“Explain one thing to me, Stray.” He finally stops when the toe of his boots hits mine. “What is it about you that has everyone so up in arms?”
“What do you mean?” I hate that my voice sounds weak.
“The new girl. Or should I say the return of the mystery girl? The one who left in the middle of the night to return years later with no real story. What did you do that made you have to leave? And why are you really back?” He reaches out, and I flinch slightly when his hand moves past me to press against the tree.
“Yeah, not sure what you’re talking about, but also none of your business. This is kind of pathetic, stalking me out here just to hear my life story. Desperate much?” I almost choke on the remainder of that sentence when he leans in. He’s too close. My stomach bottoms out as he invades my space, his lips mere inches from mine, his breath heating my chilled skin.
“Oh, I’m not the desperate one. I see the way you look at me.”
“With hatred?”
“Yeah, maybe, but there’s more.” He dips lower, and I fight to keep my eyes open. “There’s this little tick. Almost like…you’re hungry. Whenever you look at me, it appears. Is it want?”
“Oh, please—”
“Need?”
“Fuck you.”
“Lust?”
Why is he doing this? “You’re high if you think that’s how I look at you.”
His low, menacing laugh ticks me off. I try to push away, but he only traps me further, lifting his other hand to the bark. His body brushes against mine, and I lose all thought of right and wrong. “I think you want me to touch you. You crave the unknown. The anticipation of how I would feel inside you. Tasting you, licking you…” He leans in more. “Fucking you.”
I almost lose my footing. He’s right. Those sinful thoughts are exactly what haunts me. What he would do to me if I allowed him to have me. Taste me. Destroy me.
He catches me, securing his large hand around my waist and pulling me into him. The words won’t come out. The lies, the denial. My throat locks up. I can’t even fight it. I do want this.
“You’re shivering. What would you do if I skimmed lower? Are you quivering down there too?” I hate that he’s breaking me down. Exposing my true desires. “What if I took my hand and slipped it under this tight little skirt? How wet would you be?”
“Fuck you,” I whisper, need dripping from my words. His chuckle ignites even more lust inside me, and I tremble. He’s won. He knows it. I know it. My body is wound so tight, a simple flick of his finger and I’ll combust.
He follows through with his taunts, sliding his hand from my ribcage, over my skirt. My head falls helplessly against the tree, and a moan shamelessly unleashes as his hand skims up my thigh to the inside of my skirt. He pushes my panties aside. “Thong girl. Just as I suspected.” I’m about to fight back when he spreads me open like a flower and slides a finger inside me. Stars dance in my eyes, and I threaten to collapse. “Absolutely drenched.” He slowly pulls out and inserts another one. “How long have you been thinking about this, Stray?” Another finger.
I feel so full, my legs begin to shake. He takes his time, pulling out and sliding back in, over and over, until my legs begin to buckle. I reach out and grab at his shoulders to stay upright, and he kicks my legs open wide with his knee, his hand finding a more aggressive pace. My lips part, but I can barely breathe. He’s so close, I silently beg for him to kiss me, but he doesn’t. His eyes never leave mine. They remain cold while every part of my body burns. Without shame, I lean forward, needing to taste him, have his lips on mine, but he pulls away. His handwork becomes rough. He moves in and out, hitting the deepest part of me. My body begins to convulse around his hand. My sex clenches tightly as I fall apart. My orgasm takes me over the edge, and I dig my nails into his shoulders as I ride it out. He doesn’t remove his fingers until I stop trembling. And when he does, he unzips my jacket, pushes up my turtleneck, and draws a letter onto my chest with his wet fingers.
“There. Next time you try to seduce Mr. Gibson, he’ll see what a little whore you are. Taking advantage of older men is frowned upon, but I hear you already know that.”
He quickly pulls away from me, but I don’t move. I can’t. The shock from his words, his accusations, paralyze me. Did he see us? Was that him earlier today? I don’t get a chance to explain myself because he already has his back to me, disappearing from where he came.
The chill of the frigid winter air snaps me back to reality. The dread of what I allowed settles in. Did anyone just see us? I cover my face, regret flooding my system. What did I just do? You let the asshole finger fuck you in the woods and loved every second of it. But he did it to shame me. He was completely distant while he got me off, like it was a chore or something he routinely did. He refused to kiss me. “Oh, God.” I cover my face again, then hurry to adjust my skirt and jacket, remembering what he drew on my chest. Anger blows through me at his disgusting, vile attempt at humiliating me. I wipe at my chest and zip up my coat. My legs are still weak, but I push forward, making my way back to the party. Melissa is outside waiting for me, worry evident in her gaze.