Thinking about a mean butch chasing me down.
The engine ticks as it cools, the only sound in the hollow dark beyond the windshield. You let them drive you here, wherever here is, too drunk on the night and the way they looked at you across the room to ask questions. The seats are leather, still warm from your bodies, and when they lean across the console, you don't pull away.
Their mouth finds your neck, not gentle, but hungry. A graze of teeth, a hot exhale against your pulse. Their hand moves all over you the curve of your thigh through denim. You arch into it, stupid and eager, letting them take until they stop.
Teeth still resting against your throat, a threat and a promise. "You should run," they whisper, breath ghosting over damp skin. "It's so dark. No one's here. It would take forever for anyone to find you." A pause. A deliberate press of their body against yours. "Aren't you scared?"
Your heart hammers, fear, yes, but something else too. Heat pools low and heavy between your legs, a traitorous throb that has nothing to do with self preservation. Your mind stalls, caught between fight and flee, but your body knows what it wants. You're moving before you decide to, legs carrying you into the dark.
You hear them, footsteps, unhurried, enjoying this. The chase. They could catch you in seconds if they wanted, but they let you run, let you think you have a chance until the ground rushes up to meet you.
Impact knocks the air from your lungs, grass and dirt against your cheek. Their weight settles over you immediately, thighs pinning yours, hands pinning your wrists above your head. No real struggle. You were never going to win. Trapped between the earth and their body, you realize you don't want to.
"There you are," they breathe, grinding down just enough to make you whimper. "Knew you wouldn't get far."
The grass is damp and cool against your back, seeping through your thin shirt until you can feel every blade pressing into your skin. Their weight settles heavier, pinning you completely, one hand still trapping your wrists above your head while the other drags slowly down your arm, your side, your hip. A deliberate, possessive trail that leaves your skin burning everywhere they touch.
"You didn't answer me," they murmur against your ear, voice low and rough, sending shivers down your spine that have nothing to do with the night air. Their teeth graze your jaw, not biting, just testing. Tasting. "Are you scared?"
You try to speak but your throat is dry, your breath coming in shallow gasps that have less to do with the chase and more to do with the hard line of their body pressed flush against yours. You can feel their heartbeat, steady and strong, contrasting with the frantic pace of your own.
"I watched you," they continue, breath hot against your throat as their hand slides beneath your shirt, palm spreading wide against your abdomen. "All night. The way you kept looking at me from across the room. Biting your lip. Squirming in your seat like you couldn't wait for someone to take you apart." Their thumb traces the underside of your breast, teasing, never quite touching where you need. "I knew exactly how easy you'd be. Knew by the time I kissed you, you'd already be wet. Already be spreading your legs for me like a desperate little thing."
Your cheeks flush with heat, shame and arousal twisting together in your gut because they're right. You were practically panting for them before they even touched you, thighs pressed together under the table, imagining their hands on you while they were still across the room.
They shift their hips, grinding down in a slow, deliberate circle that makes your vision blur at the edges. A whimper escapes your lips, high and needy, and your legs fall open wider, just like they said you would, cradling their hips between your thighs without any prompting.
"That's it," they whisper, smug and knowing, pressing their advantage, pressing deeper against the heat of you. "Just like that. Knew you'd spread for me the second I gave you the chance. Look at you now. Practically begging for it in the dirt."
You feel it then, hard and insistent through their jeans, the strap already on, pressing against your ass as they grind against you. The realization sends a fresh spike of arousal through you, knowing they came prepared, knowing they planned to have you like this from the moment they picked you up.
Their free hand drags down your stomach, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your pants, yanking them down roughly until you're exposed to the night air. You lift your hips to help them, offering yourself up completely, exactly as easy as they predicted.
"Hands stay there," they command, and you obey, keeping your wrists crossed above your head even as they release them. They sit back on their knees, unbuckling their belt with deliberate slowness, letting you watch as they free the strap, thick and heavy in their hand. "Look at you. Already dripping for me. Such a good little slut."
You moan at the words, arching your back, presenting yourself without shame. They don't make you wait. They line up and thrust in, hard and deep, no warning, no teasing, filling you completely in one rough motion that tears a cry from your throat.
"Fuck," they groan, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. "So tight. Taking it so well for me, aren't you?"
They set a brutal pace, pounding into you, the sound of skin against skin loud in the quiet dark. Your fingers claw at the dirt, trying to find purchase as they fuck you into the ground, each thrust driving the air from your lungs.
"That's it," they praise, voice strained with effort and desire. "Take it. Take all of it. You belong here, don't you? Right here beneath me, taking my cock like you were made for it."
You can feel it building, the pressure coiling tight in your belly, each thrust hitting exactly where you need, rubbing against that spot inside you that makes your vision spark white at the edges.
"You're going to cum for me," they tell you, not asking, commanding. "Going to cum on my cock like a desperate little whore. Going to be mine. Say it."
"Yours," you gasp out, the word broken by a moan as they angle their hips just right, hitting deeper, harder. "I'm yours."
"Again," they demand, reaching down to press their thumb against your clit, rubbing in tight, merciless circles that have you sobbing.
"Yours! I'm yours, please, please..."
"Now," they order, pinching your clit between rough fingers. "Cum for me. Now."
You shatter, screaming into the night as the orgasm rips through you, violent and overwhelming, your body clamping down around them as they continue to thrust through it, using your spasming heat, drawing it out until you're limp and trembling beneath them.
"Good girl," they praise, slowing their strokes but not stopping, fucking you through the aftershocks, each movement making you whimper and twitch. "So good for me. Taking it so well. Look at you, mine now. All mine."
They lean down, covering your body with theirs, pinning you completely as they find their own rhythm, chasing their release while whispering ownership into your ear, telling you exactly who you belong to now, exactly what they're going to do to you next.
