Depraved by Trent Evans
Chapter 35
Two years earlier
Anson had set up the secret tent months ago, secure in its seclusion, so deep into the tangled Fen that not even their own patrols bothered to venture.
Wyndham had been in the command well, going over their options—such as they were—with his few field commanders, trying to figure out how best to keep The Awakening alive. They were beset on one side by their erstwhile compatriot, the increasingly unpredictable (and now openly hostile) Beckett Carter.
And on the other, an ever more relentless TSS, bent on crushing the rebellion once and for all.
He’d slipped away, finally, needing to think about something—anything—other the dark peril The Awakening seemed to always find itself in.
He found her inside, as he hoped—and dreaded—he would.
She sat on the bed they’d fashioned out of a sleeping bag and two empty supply crates he’d salvaged from a wrecked TSS transport.
The fuel lamp, hanging from the central support of the tent, hissed now and then, the illumination waxing and waning. Much like the frequency—but never the passion—of their secret rendezvous.
Anson pulled off his helmet, his dark hair soaked in sweat, matted to the crown of his forehead. He unclipped and dropped his ballistics jacket to the floor. His height forced him to stoop slightly as he advanced slowly toward her.
She reclined back, sable curls cascading over her shoulders and behind her. She wore nothing but the faded blue of Faction standard issue undershirts, much too small across the chest. It was a problem Petra had with most clothing, her breasts even larger than her outsized self-regard. The delta of her pubic hair was a deep shadow at the apex of her thighs, her long legs crossed at the ankles.
“You’re late,” she murmured.
He said nothing, moving closer.
The sound of the cicadas outside were so loud the air seemed to almost crackle with vibration.
Her eyes flashed as he stripped off his shirt, leaving his muscled, scarred chest bare now to the waist. He stood over her, pleased to see her breathing coming faster already, the heaving of her breasts never failing to make his cock throb. He was already hard, the shaft twisted and aching in the confines of his trousers.
“Take it out.”
Her dark brow arched. “Not even going to say hello?”
He traced the length of her upper leg, letting his fingertip drift into the humid divide between inner thigh and pubis.
She shivered as he did it.
Clenching his jaw, he drew the back of his finger up and down the slit of her sex, just teasing the entrance. “Now.”
Her fingers played at the buttons at his crotch, and finally, his cock sprung free. Her hand glided up and down its length, making him growl deep in his chest.
Easing forward, he plunged his hands between her thighs, loving the feel of her soft but firm flesh under his palms.
Petra never failed to fire his lust at merely a touch. Too bad that it would never be enough for anything more.
Slowly, he lifted her legs, his hands under her knees, spreading her wide, the luscious wetness of her sex revealed, her musky fragrance filling his nostrils, her glistening lips yawning apart under the wavering lamplight.
Her thumb played under the head of his cock, her mouth curved with a knowing playfulness as he drew in a sharp breath at the pleasure of her touch.
“You’ve missed me,” she murmured, her fingers drawing a tiny strand of sticky fluid away from the slit of his cock. She licked the wetness away, her dark cheeks showing just the hint of a blush.
The flush of arousal. The knowledge that here, with him, if only for a little while, they were just man and woman, nothing else mattering, two creatures becoming one, deep in the night.
He pressed between her spread thighs, opening her legs as far as they could go, her knees high. She shuddered as she caressed the hard bead of her clit with the head of his cock.
“Enough,” he growled, clenching her legs tighter. “Put it in.”
Guiding him down, she threw her head back, crying out as he sheathed his entire length inside her heat in one hard stroke.
Immediately, he took up a punishing, remorseless rhythm, the crates below her creaking as he thundered inside her with stroke after stroke.
She collapsed back upon the sleeping bag, her fists clenched in the soft fabric, her breath coming hard and fast, her words high-pitched, almost desperate.
“Fuck… I’ve… missed this… Anson.”
He gave the inside of one of her thighs a harsh slap, his palm print blooming pink. “You don’t get to use that name, do you?”
Shaking her head frantically, her hair flying, she gasped as he drove into her even harder, as if he meant to punish her with his cock for her disobedience.
Anson never went easy with her. Neither one of them wanted easy.
“No… sir!”
“That’s better.” He cranked her legs even wider, as if he meant to split her apart like a wishbone, but her heels still locked tight behind his back, drawing him even deeper inside her as he thrust.
Anson’s orgasm was already close, the tight, boiling heat of Petra’s cunt something he was never able to resist for long.
He pulled out of her, fisting his cock for a moment. “Ask me for it. Tell me you need it.”
Petra’s eyes went wide, as if she were on the verge of panic. “Please! Oh Gods, please! I want it. I need your cum, sir!”
“Do you deserve it?” He played the head of his cock back and forth over her swollen, wet labia, spreading them open, then tapping her aching, enlarged clit with the shaft, tormenting her. “Why should I give you my cum?”
“N-no, sir! I-I don’t deserve it.” Her hand wrapped about his wrist as he stroked his cock, squeezing him fervently. “But please… please… I need you. I want you!”
He met her dark gaze as he plowed inside her again, even deeper, battering the firm mouth of her womb. Her brow furrowed at the pleasure/pain he knew cervical stimulation caused her.
He didn’t care.
But that wasn’t quite true either—he did care.
Because he liked that it hurt her.
No other woman had ever had that effect on him.
Something inside Petra, in her makeup, drew it out of Anson, a muse calling forth demons from deep inside his soul, exorcising them from him through the suffering of her body under his.
It only drove him further, to thrust harder, savagely taking her, making her his in the most elemental way a man could. He yanked her shirt up until it bunched below her chin. Grasping her breasts, he squeezed them harshly, slapping them back and forth, loving the way they moved, the color of the livid marks blooming upon her olive-toned skin.
“Yes… yes… ah, fuck… yes!” she cried as he continued punishing her breasts, even as he punished her cunt with the relentless plunge and retreat of his cock.
Finally, he could take no more, his climax overtaking him, his vision graying out as the explosion of pleasure from behind his balls crowded out all awareness, his seed exploding inside her, over and over.
He pulled from her, staggering back, but still holding onto her legs. She smiled, an uncertainty, an almost girlish bashfulness he only saw in Petra’s eyes when he’d had her like this.
Sliding down to her knees, she gazed up at him, her long dark lashes fluttering. Kissing the head of his cock, she cradled his sensitive balls in her palm.
“Clean it,” he said softly, playing with her hair as her tongue lovingly laved and worshiped his still half-erect penis. Finishing with a lingering, tender kiss of her soft lips upon the crown of his cock, she rose to her feet.
Only then did he draw her into his arms, crushing her tight in his embrace. They stood that way for a long time, neither one saying anything, simply drawing comfort from being near each other, stealing moments they shouldn’t have, feeling emotions they both know could never be more than fleeting, impossible dreams.
Extricating herself from his embrace, she laid her palms upon his chest, gazing up into his eyes.
“You really did miss me, traitor.”
“Don’t you mean sir?” He pressed a hard kiss to her lips, her arms pulling him tighter against her as she kissed him back, the hunger of denied orgasm making her almost frantic with need.
She rose up on tiptoe, murmuring at his ear. “Sir, yes, sir. Now, may I come?”
“That depends how well you’re behaved tonight.” He tugged a wild lock of her hair away from her forehead. “I’m not done with you yet.”
She clambered onto the makeshift bed once more, on her hands and knees, her round, luscious buttocks turned to him.
His cock twitched, threatening to stir back to life once more.
Glancing back at him over her shoulder, her lips trembled ever so slightly, the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide now clear in her gaze.
“Lie down with me, sir. Just for a little while. I’m cold.”
He went to her then, stripping off the rest of his clothes, as she quickly shed her shirt.
To the beat of her heart, the soft pillows of her breasts huddled against his side, his palm caressing her cheek, he listened to the night, his thoughts weighing on him. For just a little while, with her in his arms, he tried to ignore the sorrow and the gnawing want of what could never be every time he met this bewitching woman.
After a long while, her breathing began to slow, her body utterly still. When he finally spoke, he wasn’t even sure she was still awake.
“We can’t keep doing this, you know. We need to stop.”
Petra stirred against him, then rose up on one elbow, her chin propped upon her palm, her eyelids heavy with sleepiness. “Are you saying you don’t want to see me again?”
He stroked the heavy weight of her breast, the hard, coral-colored nipple impossibly gorgeous as he circled it with his fingertip.
“You know it’s not that simple.”
Petra sighed, her smile bittersweet. “Nothing’s simple with you, Anson. Why can’t this just… be? Does it have to be anything else?”
“You’re risking… everything. You know that.”
“My brother isn’t a concern.” Petra rested her cheek upon his chest, playing with the dark hair there, her lips kissing his nipple now and then. “He’s got many more things to worry about than what his little sister’s into. Or who’s deep into his little sister.”
His cock began to stir then as she lithely clambered on top of him. Moving her legs apart, she straddled him, her generous breasts swaying above him.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Everything I can… to make you forget about him.” She kissed him savagely, then brushed her nipples against his lips, pulling them away just as he tried to nip one of them. “If only for tonight.”
He gathered her hands together behind her back, the fingers of his left hand like manacles around her slender wrists. His erection was already at full staff again, laid against her inner thigh. She shifted her hips, until the head of his cock slipped inside her.
Her breath shuddered from her as she sank down fully upon him, her hot cunt seething against the base of his cock, gripping him jealously.
“Then make me forget, Petra Carter.”
She began to work herself up and down upon his length then, the firm clench of her sex threatening to drive him out of his mind.
Her eyes closed, her nostrils flaring, the ends of her long hair tickling his chest.
He grinned up at her, grasping her swinging breast, squeezing it like a vice. “And if you’re a very good girl… I might even let you come, too.”