Nightmare Encounter

October 31st, 10:30pm

It doesn’t take long for him to break the kiss, unclip my bra and rip my thong off me. It takes no time for him to push me against the nearest tree like a beast and devour my mouth like I’m a lost lover he just got back. His hands are everywhere—tangling in my hair, sliding down my back, gripping my hips with a force that’s almost bruising.

There’s a desperation in his touch, a need that mirrors my own, and it makes my head spin. The world around us fades into nothingness, no more distant moaning or laughter. The only thing that exists is him, and the way he makes me feel like I’m on the edge of something both terrifying and exhilarating.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” he says, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that sends a thrill through me. Heat pools in my needy core and I feel the urge to touch myself.

“Don’t pleasure yourself sweetheart, that’s my job.” He whispers in my ear and I groan with desperation. He grabs my wrists, pinning them above my head against the rough bark of the tree, his breath hot against my neck. His dominance is undeniable, and it only makes the fire in me burn hotter.

The way he holds me—like I’m his possession, something to be claimed and used. His free hand trails down my body, rough fingers grazing my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. When his hand finally finds its way between my thighs, I can’t suppress the moan that escapes my lips, a sound that seems to fuel his hunger even more.

His fingers slide over me with expert precision, teasing, tormenting, pushing me to the edge but never letting me fall.

It’s torture, the kind that leaves me panting, begging for more. “Please,” I whisper, my voice trembling with need. I’m not sure what I’m begging for—for him to stop or to keep going, to push me over the edge or to keep me teetering on it. All I know is that I can’t take much more of this. I need him, all of him, right now.

He growls low in his throat, a sound of primal satisfaction that vibrates through my body. “You want me to f**k you, sweetheart?” His voice is rough, taunting, and it makes me burn even hotter.

“Yes,” I gasp, desperate, willing to say anything to make him give me what I need. “Please, f**k me.” His grip on my wrists tightens as he presses his body against mine, the hard length of him pressing into my stomach.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against my skin, his lips brushing over my collarbone, sending sparks of electricity through my body. He quickly backs back from me, one hand untying the string from his robe and letting it drop to the floor.

My eyes take all of him in, dark ripped jeans and a black shirt. I try to locate his scythe but he’s on me the next second, pants on the floor. And then, with one swift movement, he positions himself at my entrance, and I feel the tip of him teasing me, pressing against me, but not yet giving me what I crave.

I whimper, the sound half frustration, half anticipation. He chuckles, “So eager,” he taunts, his voice a dark, velvet purr that makes me shiver. “You’ll take what I give you, and you’ll thank me for it.”

Before I can respond, he thrusts into me with a force that steals my breath away, filling me completely, stretching me to my limits. The suddenness of it, the intensity, makes me cry out, a sound that’s swallowed by the night as he buries himself deep inside me.

For a moment, we’re both still, his body pressed against mine, his hands holding me in place, and I can feel every inch of him, feel the way he’s pulsing inside me, hard and unrelenting.

It’s overwhelming, the sensation of him, the way he’s claimed me so completely, and all I can do is hold on as the storm of pleasure begins to build inside me. And then he starts to move, slow at first, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in, each movement deliberate, controlled, designed to drive me wild.

My nails dig into the bark of the tree as I cling to it, my body arching into his with every thrust, desperate for more, for everything he has to give. His pace quickens, each thrust harder, deeper, driving me closer and closer to the edge.

The world around us disappears entirely, nothing matters except for the heat of his body against mine, the way he fills me so completely, the way he’s pushing me to the brink of oblivion. I’m lost in him, in the pleasure that’s building, coiling tighter and tighter in my core, until I can’t hold back anymore. With a final, desperate cry, I come undone, the pleasure crashing over me in waves so intense it nearly knocks me off my feet.

My p***y clenches around him, pulling him deeper, holding him inside me as I ride out the storm. But he doesn’t stop. He keeps moving, keeps thrusting into me, his pace relentless, driving me higher and higher, even as I’m still trembling from the first orgasm. It’s too much, too intense, but I can’t get enough. I don’t want him to stop. I want him to keep going, to keep taking me higher until I can’t feel anything but him. And then, with a low, guttural growl, he reaches his own release, his body tensing, his hands gripping me so tightly I’m sure there will be bruises.

He holds me there, pinned against the tree, as he spills into me, marking me as his in the most primal, undeniable way. For a moment, neither of us moves, our breathing heavy, our bodies still locked together. The night is silent around us, the only sound is the faint rustling of leaves and the pounding of my heart as I come down from the high. When he finally pulls away, I’m left trembling, my legs barely able to hold me up, my body aching in the best possible way.

He looks at me with those piercing blue eyes, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he takes in the sight of me, thoroughly f****d and utterly spent.