Undone

by Kristina Lloyd

  All these doubts flitted through my mind. But Sol looked at me and I looked at him, and my cunt didn’t want to pay heed to my brain. And my overburdened brain, desperate for a break, wanted to relinquish control to my lust. I’m not sure what my heart was doing. Cowering in fear, most likely.

  ‘So?’ said Sol. ‘You don’t strike me as the shy type.’

  He looked such a hot mess. Strong hips, worn jeans, cool way of smoking. I once read that women desire bad boys because they want to be the one who’ll fix him and make him good. What are we? Zookeepers? I’ve never wanted to tame a man in my life. On the contrary, I’ve welcomed the excuse to become more like him, to have a bad influence foisted upon me. In my youth, I longed to be swayed off the straight and narrow. I’d wanted the dangerous, corrupting guys because they legitimised me acting like an archetypal man, reckless, hedonistic and selfish. I’d wanted Sol, carefree, randy fool that he was, because he made me believe I could fuck it all to hell. I wanted to join him for the ride.

  But I learned the hard way that these are the guys who cause heartbreak and pain. I was quite certain I’d grown out of them. As an adult woman, I thought I preferred adult men who didn’t fuck you about; who were able to take responsibility for their own lives and treat fellow human beings with respect and decency.

  I thought I had it sussed. And then all of a sudden here was Sol, wild, intriguing, pleasure-hungry, and quite possibly implicated in a man’s death. He was too much, way too much.

  And at that moment, too much was what I craved. So, grinning, I lifted my top over my head and cast it to the ground. A faint breeze tickled my skin. Sol watched with wry interest but barely moved a muscle. All he did was stand there, cool as a cucumber, his cigarette tip glowing as he smoked. When I removed my bra, he gave a tiny smile, nodding to himself in approval. I dropped my bra to the floor and stood, shoulders back. The woodland shadows chilled, making sensation rise in my nipples.

  ‘And the rest,’ said Sol.

  I glanced about. ‘I’m not sure. Supposing someone comes?’

  His shoulders hitched with a grunt of amusement. ‘That’s the plan, Cha Cha.’

  Damn, I was starting to like this man far more than was good for me. ‘Are you going to strip as well?’

  He drew on his cigarette, his head tilted at a thoughtful angle. ‘Probably.’ Smoke streamed from his lips, making silvery patterns in the wooded low light. ‘It’d be a shame not to.’

  ‘You promise?’

  ‘OK, I promise,’ he replied, grinning. ‘Just let me enjoy a smoke and a little floor show first.’ He urged me to continue with an imperious flap of his hand.

  ‘You cheeky bastard,’ I murmured.

  I unzipped my skirt, let it fall to my ankles and stepped free. Sol’s gaze rolled up and down, slow, scrutinising and arrogant. His lips twisted in a smug smile and, damn, his attitude got me right in the groin. I glanced around, half expecting goblins and fae folk to be peeping from behind tree trunks.

  Confident we were alone, I pushed my knickers down and stepped out of them. I stood proudly in nothing but my sandals, allowing him to see all of me as leafy air curled around my wetness. The thrill of misbehaving exhilarated, as did the thrill of Sol eyeing my naked body from several feet away.

  He took another long draw on his cigarette. I felt awkward, just standing there. So I kicked back one foot, giving him jazz hands and a wide, cheesecake smile. He laughed. Smoke spilled from his lips and glittered across needles of light. Without a word, he tapped out his cigarette on the trunk behind him and dashed the butt to the ground.

  Still watching me, he tugged his tee over his head. He vanished briefly in a stream of fabric and then emerged, torso bared, dark mop of hair askew. He shook his head as if to rearrange his hair and dropped his top onto the tree trunk. Even though it was mere hours since I’d seen him naked, the beauty of his physique was enough to stun. His muscularity was strong rather than sculpted, his chestnut-brown body hair clouding his pecs and running to a neat line down his belly. His skin tone was uneven, decades dark on his forearms, paler on his chest, reddish bronze on his brawny shoulders. The stem of the tattooed dandelion curled down the side of his torso, the seed heads drifting from the fluffy globe of the clock. I thought of him as an impossible forest creature, a grizzly bear or a satyr, who would eat me all up.

  ‘C’mere, Cha Cha.’ He unbuckled his belt with slow, deliberate menace.

  I strolled towards him, cautious, the carpet of old, broken leaves springy beneath my sandals.

  He removed his belt, brown leather whistling through the loops and finishing with a faint crack. Oh, jeez, that sound, that lick at the air. Arousal raced in my veins, the beat of blood pumping me to hot, desperate sensitivity. My heart rate skyrocketed. As I moved, I felt encumbered between my thighs, my flesh transforming into a thick, sloshing weight that was almost too heavy to carry. How could I even function when I was like this?

  Sol unbuttoned his jeans and edged them down his thighs, baring his pale hips. His erection sprang out at a gloriously fierce angle, poking up from his wiry pubes. He paused, motionless, thumbs in his pushed-down jeans as if intent on showing me his hardness in all its implicitly threatening, flattering glory. He wanted me, and he damn well wanted me to know it.

  He heeled off his trainers and shoved his jeans to his ankles. He tossed his jeans alongside his T-shirt on the crippled tree and stepped forwards, cock bobbing, leather belt in hand. Muscles curved and flexed in his powerful, hairy thighs. I stepped out of my sandals, the leaf-carpeted ground yielding beneath my feet while offering random little stabs as I walked. We were Adam and Eve but mutually wary, significantly hornier, and eager to grab that sweet, tempting apple.

  Face to face, we stood without touching. Sol’s eyes darkened with seriousness.

  ‘I reckon we both need to forget,’ he said. Tenderly, he hooked a strand of hair behind my ear.

  I nodded, jolted by the pain of remembering why we wanted our escape. ‘Do anything you want to me,’ I said.

  He pinched his eyes shut, raised his face to the canopy and then gave me a hard, direct look. ‘Don’t say things like that.’

  He was dazzling to me, his jaw unshaven, his hair unkempt, his eyes deep in shadow. And at that moment, when he appeared to be wrestling with demons, he was more beautiful and dangerous than ever.

  I shrugged without replying. I meant it. I didn’t care. He was the beast, the poacher, the wolf in disguise, and I was small and defenceless, craving his destruction.

  Sol took the belt in both hands. I almost forgot to breathe as he hooked the leather length over my head and positioned the strap across my back. He threaded the end through the brass buckle and pulled the belt tight below my breasts, trapping my arms by my side. The tug of the restraint forced a low grunt of need from me. Jeez, it gets me every time, that subtle imposition of dominance. It might be the press of bondage, the hint of bossiness in bed, the fist gripping my hair as we kiss goodnight in the street.

  ‘That OK?’ he asked. He ran a thumb over one taut nipple.

  ‘More than,’ I breathed.

  He trailed swirls over my stomach. ‘Good. Now kneel down. That’s right.’

  I obeyed, half mesmerised by his slow, sonorous voice, my tethered arms hindering my balance. Leaf matter and beechnut husks prickled against my knees. The air on my bared skin made me feel hyper-natural, as if I were turning into an animal.

  ‘So beautiful,’ said Sol. ‘Now look up at me. Ah man, that’s fucking hot.’

  He bent close and brushed wisps of hair from my forehead, drawing strands into a bunch behind my head. He continued with meticulous tenderness, his fingers soft on my face, until every fine, blonde hair was caught in his big, blunt fist. He straightened a fraction, still holding the ponytail he’d made.

  ‘Open your mouth.’ His voice was quiet, the volume suggesting gentleness, the delivery suggesting power.

  I did as asked, or was it as told? Sol planted his feet wide, bent
his knees, and eased his length into my mouth. I shaped my lips around him, pulling to and fro along his thick, solid shaft, my saliva turning his skin to satin-slipperiness. I explored with my tongue, finding a smooth dip where I was more accustomed to finding the crinkled band of a foreskin. My lips slotted neatly into the gap when I sucked on his end, and when I slid back and forth, his strength felt so good inside my mouth. Above me, he groaned lightly.

  After a minute or so, he took my head in his hands and tested me with a couple of harder shoves. I took his thrusts, sucking firmly, and his groans deepened.

  ‘That’s good, baby,’ he whispered, driving in a couple more quick, deep lunges. ‘You think you can take me?’

  I drew back for breath, nodded up at him, and then wrapped my lips around his thick shaft again. He gripped my head tighter and began sinking his cock into me with an increasingly nasty force. Before long, he was ruthlessly fucking my throat, grunting in gleeful pleasure and making a lie of the gentleness he’d exhibited earlier.

  ‘There we go,’ he cooed. ‘You like that, huh?’

  I coughed and spluttered, swaying unsteadily on my knees, eyes brimming. His fists clamped me in place, allowing him to steer my head as he wished.

  ‘Are we forgetting yet?’ he gasped. He continued to thrust violently until my eyes and nose were full of tears. My gag reflex kept clenching. Physically, it was unpleasant. Psychologically, it was hot as hell.

  Above me, Sol panted and rasped. I began to fear I couldn’t take any more. I wanted my hands back so I could shove him away. Then, as suddenly as he’d started, he snatched himself free. He held his dripping cock, gripping his length steadily as he gazed down, his chest lifting. I gulped for breath, dazed and dizzied.

  After a few moments, my senses began to settle. I was fine; I’d survived his oral onslaught. I stayed kneeling below him, panting. I wished I could tidy up my face. A strand of hair lay stuck to my cheek, the tip of it tickling inside my lower lip. I tried to dislodge it with my tongue but it stubbornly remained.

  ‘You OK?’ asked Sol.

  A breeze ruffled through the trees and a chirruping commotion of birds started up nearby. From above, a single yellow-green leaf fluttered down through the lattice of sunbeams, pirouetting prettily in its descent.

  I nodded. ‘Just about, thanks. You?’

  He gave a grunt of amusement. ‘You’re too fucking cute, you know that? Here, suck me properly again. Show me what cock means to you.’

  He edged forwards.

  ‘You going to let me this time?’ I asked.

  ‘Hell, yes.’

  I licked my lower lip, forcefully but to no avail. ‘Sol, I have this really annoying hair. Could you?’ I opened my mouth to show him.

  Smiling, he bent close, eyes narrowed. He dusted my cheek ineffectually. ‘Can’t see anything. Ah, got it.’ With sure but gentle fingers, he peeled away the stuck hair and hooked it behind one ear. He examined my face, swept back a few more strands, and wiped moisture from my chin.

  ‘Better?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Good. Then go.’

  He cradled my head in encouragement but used no aggression this time. Instead, he kept his hips static as I slathered my tongue around his bared end and slid firm lips along his shaft. I felt clumsy without the use of my hands, slightly penguin-y, to be honest. But the tight strap comforted me, its impact bigger than its inches. I was happy to be under orders and freed of the need to make choices. Soon, I was losing myself in the pleasure of cock, shoving shallow dips over his blunt tip and swooping to his base in long random strokes. Every now and then he groaned heavily, the rich sound rippling through the stillness of the woods.

  ‘Harder on my end,’ he said. ‘I’m not so sensitive there.’

  I wrapped the O of my lips to his uncapped head, forcing pressure back and forth. With my tongue, I fretted his underside, my mouth growing accustomed to the terrain of circumcision. He gave a long, low groan, a hand resting lightly on my head. His cries rose to a frantic pitch as I worked him. Then he pressed his fingertips to my forehead, stilling me, and withdrew so carefully his cock might have been made of glass.

  ‘Fuck,’ he breathed. ‘You need to stop that.’ He dropped to his knees in front of me and pulled me close, smearing kisses over my face while muttering words I couldn’t hear. His body was warm and sticky against mine, his chest crushing my breasts. He nuzzled into my hair, kissing my neck. He gasped.

  ‘Oh fuck,’ he whispered as if to himself. He drew back and stared at me, gripping my trapped upper arms with harsh fingers. ‘You—’ His eyes searched my face. ‘No,’ he said, his voice weak.

  ‘Sol?’

  He shook my body, hands like thick claws, and pressed his eyes shut as if the contact were too much. ‘We’ll be OK,’ he said, without looking at me. ‘I promise we’ll be OK.’

  My mind hopped in all directions, memories of the previous night’s debaucheries jostling with today’s sorrow and shock. And yet, despite the chaos of the bigger issues, I felt myself rooted in the summery forest. I gazed at Sol’s closed eyes. I hadn’t noticed how long his lashes were until then. Wasted on a man, people would say. But they weren’t, not at all.

  Then he threw me a pained glance and rushed to kiss my lips, dragging me close. The bump of his injured lip bobbed between us and I wavered on my knees, my pinned arms preventing me from returning his embrace. His stiff cock pressed against me; then I was falling backwards, bright green leaves spinning above me, a smattering of blue sky, a tobacco-brown explosion. For an instant, I was a rabbit trapped by the jaws of a snare.

  He held me, pulling us both to the ground. Leaf litter rustled by my ear and spiny husks needled my flesh. His hand swooped between my thighs and he found me as wet as a river. I was on my back, helpless arms fastened to my sides, and his fingers were pushing inside me, making me crazy with rising need. He dipped between my spread legs and locked his lips onto my clit, sucking and sucking, no longer caring about his split lip. I cried out, over and over. Hot quivers within me swelled and rushed. He made me come in no time at all.

  After a pause, he knelt up, his mouth and chin gleaming with my fluids. He looked as if he’d been feasting on greasy meat, gnawing on bones like a savage. He pulled my open legs onto his thighs, aiming his cock at my entrance.

  ‘Condoms,’ I gasped. ‘We can’t.’

  ‘I need to fuck you.’ He massaged my breasts with crude, heavy hands.

  ‘I don’t know where you’ve been,’ I countered, hardly caring.

  ‘I’m safe, I swear.’

  ‘Don’t come inside me.’

  ‘I won’t, I promise.’

  He leaned over me on raised arms and I frogged back my legs to grant him access. His bulky tip nudged at my entrance and he glided into me, his thickness prising me open where I was hot and clingy. He threw back his head and groaned, holding himself steady before starting to fuck. His biceps bulged in strong curves, his hips lunging. Every thrust rubbed over my sensitive insides, my slick depths clinging to his girth. I scrabbled for purchase as my body was shunted away but my fingers found only brittle, broken leaves. He grabbed my hips, holding me in place, cock pounding high and hard.

  After a while, he slowed, and that’s when I felt him most, felt the shape of him, felt the bulge of his end, how he moved inside me, his cock fitting my spaces like a jigsaw. After a while, he sat back, and gazed down at our union, shoulders pumping. Sweat beaded his forehead, his messy dark hair floppy with heat. He stared, concentrating, and brought a froth of saliva to his lips. Part of me recoiled. He allowed a line of clear fluid to fall from his mouth. The liquid landed in my pubes and he tried again, this time using his fingers to catch the wetness.

  The action was crass, tactical and vulgar, making me wince in distaste. It was also shockingly hot. Some barely accessed part of me responded to this expression of base, icky intimacy. I imagined us becoming feral together, his roughness destroying my decorum until I was a grunting wolf-child in
his custody.

  He smeared his spit over my engorged clitoris, fingers circling me. Any misgivings about the nastiness of his deed vanished as lubrication swilled over my taut, tender bump, oiling the most sensitive part of me.

  ‘I want to see you come again,’ he said.

  That eager, possessive watchfulness took my lust up another notch. He kept at me in a regular rhythm, slowing his fuck as he focused on me. Tension puckered within my thighs, my centre bunching, my clit thickening. High above me, lime-green leaves swayed over chequered patches of blue, while dust speckles drifted in fuzzy shafts of light. I closed my eyes, feeling as if I were melting into my surroundings, losing my edges, my definition. Sol picked up speed, his cock slamming harder into my greedy softness. Wooziness spread through my limbs. I became diffuse and insubstantial. I heard my own cries as if they belonged to someone else. Sol cried out too, his noises overlapping with mine like violent, tormented birdsong.

  My orgasm tightened until I was at the point of no return. A few more nudges from his fingers then I was there, ecstasy pouring through me in billowing sensation, roll upon roll of wild, spasming pleasure. Sol reacted, getting off on my climax. He stopped touching me and began hammering harder, fucking in a growing frenzy. Tendons in his neck stood taut, lines of extremity under his sun-kissed skin. Droplets of sweat sprinkled onto me, landing on my skin in cold, wet shocks. I was so sensitised, so receptive to sensation. He was rainfall and I was earth.

  He threw back his head, his face a grimace, then snatched himself free. He grasped his cock and cried out in four rising, visceral roars, his hand pumping. The last sound twisted into a howl, a raw, animalistic sound belonging to mossy forests and time immemorial. His body went rigid as he came. His liquid flew from him, beautiful white ribbons streaking through muzzy, golden air. Come splashed onto my stomach and breasts, and striped the leather belt strapping my arms to my side.

  In the pause that followed, I could believe the world had stopped turning.