“You should know by now,” he growls, “I decide when you’re allowed to come. And I’m nowhere near done with you tonight.”
There’s a snap in the woods nearby, followed by a pop, and my eyes dart over my other shoulder. As if it matters—Sasquatch could be out there watching me, but I’ll never see it in the black on black of these woods.
Bowen’s tone softens at my reaction, “Are you afraid of the dark out here?”
“Kind of,” I mumble, “I’ve never been out this far.”
“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t leave you in Jay’s barn,” I feel his jaw tense against my temple as he smiles, “I’m not a total monster.”
“Is that the only reason,” I ask, pressing my forehead into his neck, “because it’s dark?”
“No,” he starts circling my clit again, making my breath catch, “he’s my guy, but I don’t trust that motherfucker that much.”
“But—” I stammer as I start grinding against his hand, “but you’d let him watch?”
He dips his fingers inside me, coating his fingers again, “I’d let him watch you come all over my cock and then laugh when he can’t do anything about it.”
“You’re sadistic,” I roll my ass back against his groin, “fucking sadistic.”
“So, I’ve heard,” Bowen murmurs in my ear, “but if you really want to be scared, you know there are stories about werewolves in these woods?”
My eyes flutter open as he strokes my throat up and down. When he sees the curiosity in my eyes, he grins and starts working my clit faster, sending electrical currents down to my toes.
“A long time ago,” Bowen breathes down my neck, “there was a string of murders, which is a big deal out here. All young women, found in the woods, and torn apart by an animal too big for anything around here. Then, some people over in Hellbranch started seeing something on their property. They woke up one night and saw it, said it was a huge dog man with pointed ears that walked on two legs. One of them shot it, swore they hit it, but it ran off…””
The tension compounds and I can feel the orgasm building again as he slides his fingers into my pussy, dripping and aching for him to finish me. The sound of his deep voice recounting nightmarish creatures in the woods drives me right up to the edge, but he senses it and abruptly stops, destroying the pleasure again.
“Bowennn…” I exhale, arching my back against him in desperation.
But he ignores my discomfort, waiting however long he deems acceptable before sliding his hand back to where it left off, “After that, the kids were attacked by something in the woods. They stumbled out the other side, screaming and covered in blood, but they survived. And then, all of a sudden, the murders stopped. People said they got ambushed by a werewolf and killed it. Then the cops waited ‘til dark, went into the woods, took out whatever it was, and covered the whole thing up. So, you might be afraid of coyotes now, but you won’t be if you ever hear them go silent. When the deer disappear and the woods go completely still, you’ll be praying to hear those coyotes then.”
The snaps and cracks echoing all around us put me on high alert, but only make his touch that more torturous.
“Bo…” it comes out as half whisper, half whimper.
Suddenly, Bowen pulls his face away from my neck, “The fuck you say, baby girl?”
“I said your name,” I exhale, dragging out the words.
“Say it again,” he commands, circling my clit faster, “just like that.”
“Bo…” my core pulses and I start grinding against his hand, “faster, Bo…”
Suddenly, he rips his hand out of my shorts and stands up, leaving me a wound-up mess on the floor. I whip my head around in time to see Bowen flip open his Buck knife with a click, making me freeze in terror. He moves fast, in jerky, rapid movements as he crouches next to me and pulls the straps taught, eliciting a gasp from me as they cut into my wrists. With a violent tug, he slices through the nylon and they snap, letting the blood rush back into my hands.
Bowen tosses the loose straps to the side and steps in front of me, “Run,” he booms as he fumbles with his jeans button.
“What?” I breathe, flexing my fingers and wrists.
“I said get your ass up and fucking run!” Bowen shouts, ripping his gun from its holster and emptying the clip into the woods.
My brain short-circuits and I let out a shrill scream, flinching at each bullet that leaves the barrel. Blind with terror, I scramble across the bed of the truck to the tailgate where I don’t even bother putting my feet first before tumbling off onto the dirt. Adrenaline propels me forward, my knees and feet scraping over leaves and twigs as I tear down the path back toward the house in a panic.
Ironically, fear blinds me to the darkness, so much that I can’t even feel the rocks and debris gouging the soles of my feet. I don’t know how long I run, but suddenly the path narrows and it doesn’t look like a vehicle could fit between the trees. I thought I was running in a straight line, but now I don’t know where the hell I am. Everything looks the same in every direction—dark and dense.
I stop and listen, every inch of my body quaking. I don’t know what I’m expecting to happen or what I should do. Bowen just shouted at me like a psycho and emptied his gun into the woods. And when I look down, I realize I’m naked from the waist up, only wearing my pajama shorts.
Why would he do that? Why would he do that when he knows…
Fucking asshole.
I start moving again, slower, but still with a sense of urgency. I need to get back to the house, or at the very least out of these woods. I don’t want to be out here anymore—with coyotes or werewolves. Sputtering curses as I try to catch my breath, I spy a break in the trees ahead where the moonlight is showing through. I can’t veer off-track if I don’t even know where I am, so I continue toward it.
When I make it to the clearing, I scuttle toward the middle where there’s more light. Gazing around, it doesn’t look like it breaks off into any clear paths. The only distinguishing element is a brush-laden treefall on the other end directly in front of me. I let out a frustrated huff, my eyes darting around while I decide what to do next.
Suddenly, something sharp hits my shoulder with a sickening pop, throwing me forward. Before I can even take a breath, there’s another sharp pop on my hip, and yet another at the top of my ass. Each one knocks the breath out of me and I pitch forward, stumbling to the ground with a thud.
Then comes the pain—a burning sensation radiating from each impact site. Half screaming, half hyperventilating, I reach back to grab my hip. And when I feel my skin, it’s wet.
He shot me.
Bowen fucking shot me.
My body starts convulsing and shaking uncontrollably as the screams erupt from my throat. My hand shakes, my fingers slick with the thick liquid as I grope over my shoulder and hip. The wounds hurt like hell, but I can still move.
Before I can even try to stand up, a tall figure steps through the trees into the clearing. It’s Bowen, still shirtless, and his shoulders are shaking as he swaggers toward me. When I finally stop screaming to take a breath, I hear his faint chortle beneath my gasps.
He’s laughing.
