Prison Princess

I was doing, but in the same way that I could shoot vines, I could heal. I just knew it. Like breathing. Like my heart beating.
“Layne…”
I never gave him a chance to speak. I placed my hands on the deepest cut on his chest. Warmth flooded me and passed into him. It was like the moon suddenly filled me with all of its glory, even though it was still daylight out. The moon was with me. Maybe it was always with me. This was new to me, and yet it wasn’t.
He gasped, and it turned into a moan. “Fuck. What are you doing, Layne?”
I smiled. “You saved me. I’ll save you.”
His eyes closed, and he squirmed. “It’s like you’re sunlight.”
Totally opposite of what I thought. “Try moonlight. That’s what it is.”
Cypress moaned again. It was a beautiful sound, like I was actually turning him on by making him better. Was that possible? “Moon goddess…” His voice was still rough, but this time it was sexual, too.
I poured the healing power into him until I couldn’t anymore. His wounds sealed shut, and then the glow from my fingers dimmed. Still, I touched him. His mouth dropped open; his hips jerked up. My wet hair stuck to my neck, and my breasts suddenly felt heavy.
“Princess, you are in so much trouble.”
Cypress grabbed the back of my head and slammed me to him. Our lips connected like fists. It was harsh and hard and haunting. Our teeth clashed. Our bodies collided. The blood from his wounds mixed with the muddy earth, coating our bodies with gritty desire.
We rolled as we kissed. My frantic hands worked his shredded clothes completely off of him. “You never fucking listen,” he growled as I nipped at his razor blade jaw.
“No, I don’t,” I agreed with him. “Unless I agree with what is being said.” I licked over his stubble, having no idea where that desire came from. It was like I had to taste him, right then and there. Mud and everything.
He shook his head. “Can never get enough.”
I wasn’t sure of what he meant by that, but then he was on top of me instead of the other way around. He bit down on my lower lip, which shouldn’t feel as great as it did. I sighed, my body softening around him. I’d never understood what that meant when I heard the phrase, but it was like I was clay and he could shape me anyway he wanted right now.
“Your curves...” He ran a hand over one of my breasts. “They’re perfection.” Cypress squeezed my nipple, and I cried out. “I’m going to own you right now. This is your last chance to say no. In fact, you should say it. Say no, Layne. I’m an asshole. I’m never going to be kind, I’m not capable of being gentle. If we do this, you’re going to get hurt. And I don’t mean physically.”
I lifted an eyebrow and stared at him. “I could shoot a vine through you right now if I wanted to. And don’t assume you can hurt me. Being with you has been good for me. It reminded me that I’m tough. I grew up in a prison, Cypress. Even if you did hurt me, I’d get over it.”
He flared his nostrils. “Why is that I want you even more when you are being rude to me?”
“I wouldn’t presume to analyze your psyche. You’re just that fucked up.” I kissed his chin again. “What about getting me home?”
“One more night, Princess.” He stared at me a long second before claiming my mouth again. This time, hard. He fucking devoured me. His body claimed mine like it was a fight. He explored with his hands, forcing my thighs apart while settling between them. His hard cock bumped against my sensitive pussy. I wanted closer. He was destroying me. Cell by cell. Limb by limb. Kiss by kiss.
It was dirty, filthy, damaging, consuming, and hard. His fingers left bruises wherever they touched. My hair tangled in the leaves and mud as he lined himself up and thrust deep inside of me.
I cried out at the invasion. He wasn’t lying when he said it would hurt. I was slick with molten heat, but there was no warning. No easing into it. We were one.
Cypress was in my fucking soul. He slid in and out, hovering over me with every muscle flexed and his eyes trained on me. The world faded away. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he cried out. I winced when he started fucking me harder. Our bodies made slapping sounds that bounced off the trees surrounding us.
He must have noticed the slight move and paused to awkwardly ask, “Do you need me to go slower, Princess?”
It was such a tender question that I found myself momentarily speechless. The vulnerability in his tone stunned me. I swallowed, then grabbed his chin. “Don’t you fucking stop.”
“Not stopping.” His hardened gaze had another emotion in it I couldn’t read. “But, yeah, I’m going to slow down.”
And he did. It was the sweetest torture. In and out, he rubbed against my clit. Pleasure warred with pain as I still adjusted to the newness of this. Finally, it was like I caught up. I didn’t need slower. I just needed more.
“Harder,” I begged of him. “Like before now. I can...I need it.”
He nodded once. “Whatever you want. Don’t you know that by now?”
He sped up, his body claiming mine again like he had every right to it, as though he owned every noise I made, every twitch of my muscles. They were his to command. I was his to own in that moment. It didn’t make me feel small. No, just the opposite. I loved it. Just for right then, I wanted him to say when, where, and how this ended for me. I would only find completion if he told me to.
“Come for me, Princess. I want to see you fall apart.”
His words unlocked the pleasure budding within me, and