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Jim loomed over you,his big body blocking the light from the single bulb in the cabin, making shadows dance on the rough wooden walls. The air felt thick, heavy with the smell of pine and sweat. His chest rose and fell slow, muscles tight under his worn shirt, eyes locked on you like he was ready to pounce. He had that hard look, the one that said he meant business, from all the shit he'd dealt with in his life. Boots thudded on the floor as he stepped right up to you, so close you could feel the heat coming off him, smell the faint whiskey on his breath.
His hand shot out fast, big fingers wrapping around your chin, squeezing just hard enough to make you wince. He yanked my face up, forcing me to stare into those dark eyes that burned with want and anger mixed together. I tried to pull back a little, but he held firm, thumb pressing into your soft skin, right under your lip. His other hand came up, gripping your shoulder, pushing her back against the wall with a thud that rattled the shelves nearby.
"Do I look like I’m messing around?" he growled, voice rough like gravel, low and deep from his chest. He leaned in closer, his body pressing against yours now, the hard bulge in his pants rubbing against her thigh through the fabric. You could feel it twitch, growing as he stared you down. His grip tightened on your chin, making your lips part a bit, and he dragged his thumb over them, rough and slow, like he was thinking about shoving it inside your mouth.
He didn't let go, just kept you pinned there, his knee nudging between my legs, spreading them a little so he could press his hips forward. The friction made your breath hitch, heat building low in your belly as his cock strained against his jeans, hot and insistent against you. "Do I look like I won’t punish you?" he said next, words coming out slow, each one a threat wrapped in promise. His free hand slid down my side, rough palm scraping over my shirt, then lower, grabbing my hip hard, fingers digging into the flesh like he owned it.
I squirmed under him, but it only made things worse—or better—his body grinding into you, the rough denim of his pants chafing your skin where your skirt had ridden up. He let out a low grunt, eyes dropping to your mouth, then lower, taking in the way your chest heaved, nipples hard against the thin fabric of your top. His thumb pushed past my lips now, tasting your tongue as he held you still, fucking my mouth shallow with just that one finger, making me wet between my legs. The cabin felt smaller, hotter, like the walls were closing in with every heavy breath you shared.
He pulled his thumb out with a wet pop, smearing my spit across my cheek, then leaned down so his lips brushed my ear. His voice dropped even lower, a rumble that vibrated through you. "You keep testing me, and I'll bend you over that table right there, hike up that skirt, and spank your ass red till you beg me to stop. Or maybe I won't stop. Maybe I'll spread those legs wide and fuck you hard, make you scream my name while I fill that tight pussy up." His hand on your hip squeezed harder, sliding back to grab a handful of your ass, pulling you tighter against his throbbing cock. I could feel every inch of it, thick and ready, pulsing with need.
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