#ghosted

“Oh hey!” he replied, brightly. He always seemed so excited to see another human. You’d spent your whole trip trying to tell yourself that he was just very lonely and you should be gentle with him. “Just wanted to check on the generator. Make sure it’s holding up well in this cold.”

“Yup! All good.” You gestured to the couple lamps scattered through the single room. “Lights are on, it’s warm and toasty in here. Everything’s fine.” You took a small step forward, your hand on the door, hoping he’d take the hint. But, of course, he didn’t. He never did. 

“What about groceries? You have everything you need? I could make another trek into town today.”

You shook your head. “No, that’s okay. I’m still making my way through the last haul you brought in. I’m good. You’ve taken very good care of me.”

He went stock still at that. It was odd, but almost everything he did struck you as odd. “You mean that?” he asked, his voice almost pleading.

“Yeah, of course. Absolutely. You’ll be getting a five star review from me. Promise.”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, great!” He said, sort of shaking himself, almost like he was coming out of a trance or something. But before you had a chance to dwell on how strange that was, he’d moved on. “You going for a hike?”

“Uh, huh,” you said, grabbing your backpack from where it rested on the floor next to the dresser. You took another step forward, hoping to force Cole out of the doorway. “Figured I’d try one of the forest trails today.”

He didn’t move. “Cold day for it.”

“I’m all bundled up. I’ll be fine.” You took another step forward. You were starting to feel a little trapped.

His face suddenly lit up. “You should come by the farmhouse when you’re done. I could make you some hot chocolate to warm you up.”

“Oh, sure! Maybe!” Another step forward. “But probably not if it’s getting dark. Got plans to snuggle up with a book here tonight and go to bed early.”

“Oh yeah. That sounds really nice. Well, if you’re able, I’ll be there.”

“Okay, Cole. Thanks! For everything. But I’m gonna head out now.” He just blinked at you, so you gestured to the doorway and the wide expanse waiting for you outside.

“Oh! Right! Of course!” He finally backed up to let you out. “Well, I’ll just be up at the house. Holler if you need anything.”

“Will do, Cole. I know where to find you.”

He finally stepped away, letting you leave the cabin. You watched him as he got on his little snowmobile and drove back to the main house. He was very, very sweet (and kind of hot with the dark beard and the light eyes and the broad shoulders), but he had the social awareness of a gnat.

This was supposed to have been your retreat from civilization.

You were burned out. Too much work, too much relationship drama, too much everything. You needed a break. A big one.

So you filed a PTO request for two weeks off in the middle of winter and began to search for a secluded nature retreat. 

You thought you’d found a great one. A tiny home done up to resemble a rustic, cozy cabin. Only room enough for you. Located on the edge of dense woods, it had access to several hiking trails, a sledding hill, a skating pond, and a gorgeous lake. No internet, no cell signal, no neighbors. A great environment to completely unplug, reconnect with yourself, and recharge. It was perfect.

Well. It was almost perfect, as it turned out. Your cabin, you discovered when you got there, was one of three in a little cluster on the property. Yours was the only one currently booked, but there was still a neighbor to worry about. Cole, the proprietor, lived in a farmhouse a few acres away. But it felt much closer with how often you saw him. You didn’t think he’d gone a single day without stopping by your little cabin at least once. 

You tried to be kind. He’d told you on one of your first days that this place used to belong to his parents and they’d left it to him when they’d died. The isolation you saw as a nice little break from reality was what he lived with all the time. He must be desperate for company, especially in the depths of winter. So you excused the way he just kept popping over to make sure you had everything you needed, or how he’d interrupt your hikes to see if you were enjoying the view. Or when he’d knock on the door during your morning meditation to bring you breakfast. He was lonely. You felt sorry for him. So you could tolerate his overly friendly behavior. This trip may not have been the solitary paradise you’d envisioned, but it was still the rejuvenating break you’d needed. Everything was fine.

The next day, Cole, of course, found you as you were strapping on ice skates to go out on the frozen pond. “You didn’t come by the house last night.”

“No, I didn’t,” you confirmed, making sure to give him a bright smile to avoid any awkwardness. “I lost track of time on my hike, and it was already dark by the time I got back.” You didn’t apologize. You hadn’t said you definitely would.

“I missed you,” he said quietly, and that stopped you in your tracks. “Your stay here is almost over. I gotta soak up all the quality time with you that I can.”

That– that was a joke, right? Yeah, it had to be. Just a joke, it was fine. You gave him a good–natured chuckle. “Oh,” you said, “I’m sure you’ll be happy to be rid of me in a few days. A lot less work when no one’s here, huh?”

“I don’t know about that,” he said with a sheepish shrug. “It’s been really nice having you here.”

“Aw,” you smiled again, a little more sincere this time. “Thanks, Cole! It’s been a really great trip. I’ll be sad to leave.” Something hopeful flashed across his face before disappearing quickly. “Well,” you said as you stood up on the skates, “I’ll leave you to your work. Thanks again for everything.” Then you skated off.

You were so absorbed in your exercise and the bracing cold that you didn’t notice just how long he stood there and watched you skate.

You weren’t leaving until the next morning, but you’d started gathering your things together. Even though the cabin was just a single room, you’d still managed to spread out considerably over the last week. It was good to do this now, so you wouldn’t have to scramble before you left in the morning.

Like clockwork, there was a knock at the door. It almost felt a little sentimental. This was the last day of your trip. You were about to take your last hike here. And now Cole was bothering you for the last time. You smiled to yourself. Now that you were about to leave, now that you’d fully adjusted to the reality of your trip instead of the ideal fantasy that’d been in your head, you could admit that he had an awkward charm to him. At the very least, he’d make for a sweet story once you were back in the real world.

You opened the door with a genuine, warm grin. “Morning, Cole!” you greeted him. “What can I do you for?”

His answering smile couldn’t match your warmth. It had a brittle edge to it, almost… sad. His eyes cast around the room behind you. “You’re packing up already?” he asked in lieu of a greeting, alarmed. “I thought you weren’t leaving until tomorrow?”

“That’s still the plan! Just trying to get everything together while I can take my time with it.”

He didn’t say anything in response, just continued to look around, eyes almost seeming to catalog all of your things. It wasn’t until you cleared your throat pointedly that he focused on you again. “What’s on the docket for your last day, then?” he asked.

“One last hike to the lookout,” you told him. “Packed my camera, so gonna try to get some good pictures before the sun fully crests.”

He nodded absently. “You’ve been a really great guest,” he said with a conviction that would have felt strange from anyone else, but you were finally getting used to your host.

“Thanks, Cole. That’s so sweet of you,” you said sincerely. “I’ve really enjoyed staying here. I almost wish I didn’t have to leave. I don’t know how I’m going to go back to the real world after such a peaceful two weeks.”

Cole took a very long time to respond, just staring at you instead. Then he nodded to himself. Almost like he’d made a decision. Pulling a thermos out of his bag, he changed the subject without any warning at all. “I brought you some hot chocolate,” he said, thrusting the thermos at you. “My mom’s old recipe. Thought I’d bring it by before you left since you didn’t get to try it the other night.”

“Oh, okay,” you took the bottle from him, not knowing what else to do. “Thank you! That–  That’s really nice of you.”

“Maybe it can keep you warm on your hike,” he offered.

“Oh yeah! That’s really thoughtful of you. Thanks!” You smiled broadly.

Cole didn’t move, just stared at you expectantly when you didn’t do anything with the thermos. “You should try it,” he said lowly, almost pushy.

“Oh, sure.” You awkwardly unscrewed the cap under his watchful gaze. You took a cautious sip. It was very sweet, but it had an undertone of spice, and it was very warm. You probably would take it with you on your hike. That wasn’t a bad idea. “It’s delicious, Cole. Thank you so much!”

He beamed at you in return, but you couldn’t help noticing something slightly melancholy underneath. “Have a great hike,” he said, always so sincere. “I’ll see you tomorrow for checkout.”

Something was very wrong. 

You’d made it to the lookout and gotten some really great pictures. You’d sat and drank your hot chocolate and had taken a moment to say goodbye to this place. 

It was when you’d begun your hike back that you’d started feeling off. 

Your skin had gotten clammy. Your vision had started to swim. Your limbs felt weird. And you’d started to sweat. Even though it was so cold out. Even though it had started to snow, harder with each passing minute. It was snowing so hard out—it’d started so suddenly—and you were all alone and your insides were turning to jelly and you didn’t know which way was up. And you were all alone. You were all alone.

You fell to your knees just as your stomach emptied its contents. Your face was so wet, but you didn’t know if that was from snow or sweat or tears. You tried to call out for help, but you couldn’t get your voice to work. You’d never been so scared. What was happening? Were you going to die out here?

Something touched you. You would have jumped if you’d had the strength. You tried to turn your head to look but you could barely get your muscles to work. “Oh sweetheart,” a voice spoke from… somewhere. You were so dizzy and cloudy you couldn’t quite tell. “It hit you pretty hard, huh?” You didn’t know what the voice, a man, was talking about. There was guilt and sadness in his tone. You didn’t understand. Suddenly you were moving off the ground. You cried out, but he hushed you gently. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. It’s gonna be okay.” 

You finally placed his voice, as he carried you over to his snowmobile. Cole. It was Cole. He’d come to save you. That was your last conscious thought as he drove you down the trail.

Time passed strangely as you moved in and out of consciousness. You were in a dense fog, only able to pick up on sensations rather than details. You ached. You toggled wildly between chills and fever. You dreamed in shapes and colors. There were hands on you sometimes. Soft. Gentle. Everywhere. There was a voice in your ear always. Soothing. Comforting. You weren’t sure what the difference was between being awake and asleep. You layed on a cloud.

You had no idea how much time had passed when you finally woke up for real. Or where you were. Or how you had gotten here.

You were in a large bedroom with wood paneling and a slanted ceiling. The bed was so soft you thought you might sink into it. A clearly homemade quilt was on top of you, a patchwork of pinks and greens and blues with delicate flowers stitched across it. There was a glass of water on the bedside table next to you. On the nightstand was a copy of The Hobbit and a pair of reading glasses.

You were wearing a pink nightgown, frilly. It wasn’t like anything you owned. Someone had changed your clothes. Undressed you.

The door opened, and you pushed yourself back into the headboard. Cole came in, carrying a tray with more water, a Gatorade, and a bowl of soup. His face lit up at the sight of you.

“Oh, you’re awake! And you’re looking pretty lucid. That’s great news!” He set the tray down on your nightstand and immediately moved to press the back of his hand to your forehead. You tried to shy away, but it didn’t do any good. “Clammy,” he said, as he removed his hand, “but you aren’t burning up anymore. Thank goodness.”

“What–“ you started, but it came out as a croak. Your throat was bone-dry and your voice was so rough. You tried again. “What happened?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Cole said as he sat down on the bed right next to your hip. He was so close. “You got really sick on your hike. Thank god I found you when I did! You were collapsed and barely conscious. I’ve been taking care of you.”

You took a breath. You still felt so fuzzy. You looked around you again. This must be the farmhouse. “Why aren’t I in a hospital, if I was so sick?”

He stood back up, moving to the tray he’d brought in. “Oh, the snowstorm. All the roads are completely impassable. I had to bring you back here. Don’t worry, I took such good care of you.”

“How long?” you asked, terrified of the answer without fully knowing why.

“You’ve been in and out for the last three days.”

“Oh my god,” you tried to sit up, in a panic, but you felt so weak, like you didn’t have full control over your body. “I was supposed to be back at home, back to work. I need to call– “

“Hey, hey,” Cole put a hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay. Calm down. I already took care of all that.” 

You let him guide you back down onto the mattress as you looked up at him, confused. “What–  What do you mean? How?”

“You had your emergency contact on your reservation form, remember? I called them, talked to them. Took care of everything. You don’t need to worry about that.”

You blinked at him. Everything, your brain and your body, felt like molasses. You didn’t understand.

“Hey,” he said, so softly, his hand briefly brushing against your cheek. He was so comfortable touching you. “Let’s get some food in you, huh?” He picked up the tray with the bowl of soup and carefully placed it on your lap. Sitting down next to you again, he picked up the spoon and began to move it towards your mouth.

Your face heated in embarrassment as you reached to take the spoon from him. “I can do it myself,” you said, feeling strangely small.

He hesitated before letting you take over. “Okay,” he finally said. “But don’t be embarrassed if you need help. I love taking care of you.”

Something about that sentiment made you deeply uncomfortable, but you didn’t say anything. What would you say? You still felt delirious. You needed him, even if the whole situation seemed off. But that was probably just Cole.

As you ate, he went over to the other side of the bed and layed down next to you, grabbing his glasses and the book from the nightstand. “I’ve been reading to you these last few days. I think you liked it. It always soothed you.” Then he opened the book and began reading. His voice was deep, steady, lulling. And you were still so tired. You finished the soup and then let yourself be carried back into sleep.

You dozed through the rest of the day. Surfacing every so often to the sound of Cole’s voice, steadily reading to you, before you were lulled back into unconsciousness. 

He woke you up in the evening for another bowl of soup. He watched you expectantly as you ate it. Eyes going so soft when you told him it was good.

When you were done, he cleared your tray. And then he walked over to the dresser and started taking off his clothes. 

“What are you doing?” you called out as loudly as you could muster, alarmed.

He turned his head as he just kept going, removing his shirt and tossing it into the nearby hamper. He shot you an amused look. “I’m getting ready for bed.”

“In here?” you asked, your voice as high as it could go even with how hoarse it still was.

“Of course,” he chuckled. “It’s my room. Where do you think I’ve been sleeping this whole time?”

“I– “ you started, but your head was starting to feel so heavy and it was hard to turn your thoughts into words. “Shouldn’t I be in a guest room then?” You let yourself lay back down as his hands moved to take off his pants. Things were happening too fast. You couldn’t track it.

“I needed to keep you close, baby–“ Baby?? “– to keep an eye on you. To make sure you were okay. You aren’t out of the woods yet.” He came back to the bed, crawling in next to you. He was wearing soft, cotton sleep pants, thankfully, but his chest was bare. “But don’t worry, I’ll get you there.”

You turned away from him, onto your side, as you struggled to keep your eyes open. This bout of exhaustion had come on so quickly, you couldn’t fight it anymore. You felt Cole right up against your back, his warm breath on your neck, but you were too weak, too tired, to move, to think. 

Just as you were pulled down down down into unconsciousness, he whispered in your ear, “This used to be my parent’s room. They were so happy here.”

You were floating. 

Stuck in that place between wakefulness and deep sleep, you hovered, unsure if you were dreaming or not. It was dark, only the impression of objects behind your eyelids. You were so warm, a heavy weight cosseting you.  

There was a low moaning sound right outside your awareness. Then, gentle touches on your stomach and the inside of your thigh. It felt nice. This was a nice dream.

You were being rocked on whatever cloud you were floating on. Slow and steady at first, rhythmic, but as the pace picked up, it got more erratic. The moaning got louder. You felt it deep in your chest. The grip on you tightened. You rocked harder and harder and harder and harder until suddenly, you were stilled. A wet warmth spread across your back. You felt it seeping into your skin. Becoming part of you. 

There was a feather-light tickling on the back of your neck. And then “I love you” was whispered on the wind wherever you were, before you sank into the darkness again.

You were woken by the sun beaming through the soft curtains. You blinked your eyes open and took a deep breath as you oriented yourself. You were in Cole’s farmhouse, after you’d gotten extremely sick. You took a quick inventory of your body. You stomach felt steady, if hungry. Your muscles didn’t ache. Your skin didn’t feel clammy. And, most importantly, your head felt completely clear for the first time since you’d left for your hike that day.

Another deep breath. Cole’s arm was draped over you and his body was pressed against your back. He snored loudly in your ear. What the fuck? You tried to remember what he’d said. That he needed to keep you close so he could keep an eye on you because you were so sick. That… That made sense. So maybe you should give him the benefit of the doubt now. He’d probably gotten so close to you in his sleep, unknowingly. It hadn’t been on purpose. Even so, it was making you feel a little claustrophobic.

You tried to slip yourself out from under him as carefully and quietly as you could. There was no need to wake him. But when you started to move, you felt something on the small of your back. Something thick, dry, stiff, and cracking. What? No. No. That couldn’t–  But no, there was no mistaking what you felt. What else could it possibly be? What–  What was going on here? What had happened while you were sick?? Your skin was crawling. You needed to get out of here.

You got free of Cole and out of the bed without disturbing him too much, thank God. He just flopped onto your side of the bed, snuffling into your pillow. You couldn’t stop and think about the implications of that. There was no time. You needed to go.

As you moved through the room, you caught sight of what you were wearing. Right. First things first, you need to change out of this weird nightie. Where were your things? What had he done with what you’d been wearing? What you’d had with you?

You looked through the hamper first, trying not to touch much, for fear of what you might find. But none of your things were there. So you went to the closet next. When you opened it, you stopped dead.

There, neatly organized into one side, were all of the clothes you’d packed for your trip. Hung up in a nice little row. Your pants were stacked in the little built-in cubbies, and your shoes were lined up beneath everything on the floor. The other side contained all of Cole’s things, pressed up right against yours. Like they belonged there, together.

The one thing you didn’t see was your backpack or all of the important things that had been inside it—your keys, your money, your phone, your IDs. All of the things you would need to get the fuck out of here. You could search for that in a minute, check other parts of the house, maybe try going back to the cabin. Right now, you just needed to get out of this room. 

You grabbed a pair of pants and a top, not really paying attention to what they were, just changing as fast as you could. You grabbed the shoes with the best traction and turned around.

To find Cole standing next to the bed, in sleep pants and nothing else, sleepily scratching his beard, and staring at you. “Where are you going?” he asked. And while he looked and sounded casual, you could feel the tension filling the room.

“I– uh– I think it’s time for me to go, Cole, don’t you?”

“It isn’t safe,” he said, taking a step towards you. You automatically took a step back. His eyes narrowed. “You’re still sick.”

You shook your head wildly. “No, I’m feeling much better now. I feel fine. I can– I can go. I’m well enough to go.”

“That’s great,” he said, but there was evident surprise in his tone. “I’m so glad, but you still can’t leave. The– the snow! The roads aren’t clear. There’s no getting out. It always takes days for the plows to get out this far.”

You swallowed, taking a few more careful steps backward, away from him. He matched your movement. “Well. I think– I think I’ll go have a look for myself. I’m resourceful. I might be able to get through.” You didn’t care whether the roads were blocked or not. You’d trek as many miles as you needed to, through twelve feet of snow, just to get the hell out of here.

He took another step forward, and you took another step back. You were starting to feel like a caged animal. “You can’t leave,” he said with finality.

You took another step back, or tried to, when your back collided with the wall. No, not the wall. Something was sticking out of it, hitting you. The doorknob. You’d backed yourself into the door. Breathing out a sigh of cautious relief, you reached behind yourself, not daring to take your eyes off Cole. Surprisingl,y he didn’t move, didn’t attempt to stop you. You grabbed the handle and turned it. 

It rattled in your grasp, but, to your horror, it didn’t move.

“It locks from both sides with a key,” Cole informed you calmly, patting the pocket of his sleep pants. “Quirks of an old house.”

At that, all of your resolve crumbled. “Cole, please,” you begged. “I just want to go home. Please, let me go home!” Tears were starting to run down your face as panic took over.

His face dropped. “Oh sweetheart,” he said, with so much sympathy you wanted to scream. He rushed to you, cradling you in his arms. “You are home. That’s what I’ve been trying to get you to understand. It was fate that brought you here, to me. Don’t you feel it? Haven’t I taken such good care of you? Don’t you see what a good husband I could be to you? What a good life I could give you?” 

You pushed against him as hard as you could, trying to break his hold, but it was no use. He was so much stronger than you’d realized, his muscles so much firmer beneath your touch than you ever would have guessed. “Please,” you begged again. “I appreciate you taking such good care of me while I was sick, I really do. But I’m better now, I am. And I need to get back to my life!”

“Shh,” he ran a soothing hand down your back. “Yeah, that was my mistake. You should have been under for longer.” You looked at him, confused and so, so scared, as he let go of you, taking a few steps back to sit at the foot of the bed. “You reacted so strongly to the hot chocolate. You weren’t supposed to get that sick. Just enough to keep you here a few extra days. Long enough to see how well I could take care of you. What a good life I’d be able to give you. So much better than the one you were running from. But instead you were just–“ his expression collapsed into anguish. “It really scared me. So, last night, I switched to something else, decreased the dosage. But that apparently wasn’t enough. It’s been really hard to get the dosage right.”

All you could do was stare at him in shock. Horror. Terror. What had he done to you?! What was he going to do to you?!

He stood up again, restless, and you pressed yourself into the door, as much as you could. He looked sad, distressed by your fear. You almost wanted to laugh.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he pleaded. “I don’t want to hurt you. But–“ He stood up to his full height, shoulders suddenly set in determination. With a steely tone, he said, “I would do anything to keep you. Anything.”

Tag List

He's younger, stronger, and bigger. You have no hope of escaping him. Your curls your fingers, digging your nails into his skin, and drag them down his chest. You twitch as the realisation that he's naked.

Your nails comb through his chest hair as he growls into your mouth. He shifts to grab your wrist, then your other. He sits up and holds your arms above you as you writhe.

"Get the hell of me," you hiss as his knees weigh down the fabric between your legs.

"Shhh. You don't want to wake anyone up," he growls as he licks your wrists together in one large hand.

"Like hell I don't. I'll scream." You snarl.

"Okay." He hums. "My mom would love to know why you got her son naked in your bed."

"Because you--" you sneer.

"'Mom, please, I only did what she wanted.'" He quivers dramatically. "'She said if I didn't, she'd tell everyone I forced her and you know I'm your good boy.'"

He sounds eerily convincing. You shudder and pull on your wrists. He growls and squeezes them tighter.

"'She made me take my clothes of. She said she just wanted to look. That... It'd been so long and I'm so young.'" he carries on, a shadow twitching lower down his body. You nearly gag as you realise what it is.

"I'll tell her the truth," you insist.

"I'm sure she'll believe you," his voice clears up in an instance. "If she hears." He bends over you, his shadow pooling over you darkly. "She took her meds and she gets a bit groggy. Still thinks she saw the scarecrow walking around one night..."

"Cole, get off of me."

"Why?" He asks nonchalantly. "You're what sixty something? Single? I know you must be lonely."

"No, get away--" you wriggle desperately. "I don't want this."

He's silent as he sits back on his heels. The moonlight limns his silhouette. Broad shoulders, thick arms, thicker thighs. He is bound in muscle you never even had.

"But I do." He says bluntly.

He stretches his other hand across your neck and let's your wrists go. He squeezes before you can shriek for help. You wheeze and cough as the are grates in your throat.

He hushes you again as he lifts his knees one at a time, tugging the flannel night from beneath them. He pushes the fabric up your body as you claw at his forearm. Your nail tip rips but you don't stop. You kick your heels down into the bed.

He rolls the nightie up your body, yanking gruffly to free it from beneath your weight. He exposes your high-waisted panties and lack of bra. You shiver and instinctively cover your chest. He snarls and snatches your hands away.

His grip stays firm on your neck as he covers one side of your chest with his large hand. Callouses scrapes on your soft skin. He kneads as your nipple pokes into his palm. He hums.

"I never saw a woman your age... Like this," he whispers. "I didn't think... They'd be so nice."

You tremble and slap his hand. He bends his fingers and pinches you until you recoil and whine. He tuts.

"Don't. Let me be nice," he growls.

Panic ripples through your stomach and prickles across your skin. He slides back on his knees and bends. He locks his fingers around your neck, keeping your pinned, as he frames your tit with his hand. He flicks his tongue around your nipple and you twitch. He groans.

He swipes his tongue again, this time bringing his lips around the hard bud. He sucks and you gasp.

You latch onto his thick forearm as tears sting your eyes. As you feel the bulging veins under his skin and the taut muscle, reality sinks in. You won't get away. Even if you were younger, you would barely have a chance.

He moans as he sucks on you, squeezing your tit as he toys with his tongue. He digs his nails in until you whimper then drags his mouth across your chest. He starts on the other, his spit cooling on your skin.

His hot breath fans across your torso as he parts, hovering just above your stomach. He slides back on his knees and lowers himself to his stomach. His arm extends up as he stays attached to your throat.

He nuzzles the front of your panties and pushes his nose hard against your cunt. He rolls his head as you clench. He inhales your scent and purrs.

You reach down to tug his hair. "Pl-ease--"

He lets go of your throat and you cough in surprise. He grabs your hand, and your other, and twines his fingers between yours. His breath stains the cotton of your panties as he takes another deep whiff.

"I can smell your sweat..." He growls. "I can smell how sweet you are."

He opens his mouth and presses his tongue to your panties. His saliva soaks through as he delves into you, wiggling his head as he pushes the fabric against your folds. You flinch as you feel your own wetness seeping through. You find that doesn't happen as often. Or easily.

Your voice fizzles out in a gasping cry. You spasm at his warmth. He centers on your clit and sucks through the cotton. The fabric chafes in the creases of your thighs as he guides your hands down to his hair. You latch on and yank on his thick locks.

"Stop..." You beg.

He snarls and rocks his head back and forth. He lets go of you as you try to tug or shove him away. You writhe as his deep voice rumbles through his chest.

He traces the elastic of your panties and pulls them down. He lifts his head as he peels the cotton away from your cunt and they twist around your thighs. He raises your legs to slip his head under the tangle of your panties, trapping himself between your thighs.

His hair tickles your legs as his tongue delves nakedly between your lips. He spreads his tongue wide and drags up, tasting every part of you with a hum. He swirls around your clit and you whine. His voice crackles in a dry moan and he buries his nose in the coiling hair along your pelvis. He smells you again.

"You taste so good, honey," he snarls and swipes his tongue in another wet and sloppy dip between youeyf olds. He pops his lips loudly. "Does it feel good?"

"Cole, you have... To stop," you gulp as you shakily lift yourself on your elbows.

He snorts. "Do I?" He breathes and bows his head to wipe his wet mouth on your pelvis, "cause it doesn't feel like you really want me to."

"You can't--" you murmur.

He overrides your last please as he drags his lips down to your cunt and lashes his tongue. You twitch and slap the mattress. Your voice evaporates into a weak babble.