Jetta - Raven Kennedy Page 0,77

woods. The thrill of being chased lights in my veins like a flare, and when I hear feet pounding behind me, I push myself harder, faster, further. It’s so freeing. Exciting. Invigorating.

I wanted to come back out here—back to where we first collided. Because with Jericho, our connection feels uninhibited. Wild. Animal. I want our first time to be out here, where I feel the freest.

When I sense the air swish against the backs of my legs, I know he’s caught up.

I pivot, never losing speed, as I quickly change course to throw him off. I’m a good runner, but running really isn’t my thing. I know Jericho’s enforcer training has him running as part of his everyday training, so I’m at a disadvantage, especially since I have shorter legs. While I’m trained for martial arts and dance and gymnastics, I’m not an expert runner by any means.

But it’s clear that Jericho is.

Because although I’m fast and strong and have plenty of endurance to spare, he gains on me. Closer and closer, until he’s right on my heels, and my lungs are burning and my arms are pumping, and I know he’s almost won.

So, of course, I trip him.

Spinning around, I sweep my foot out, and he tries to jump out of the way, but I’m too quick.

“Fu—”

He loses his footing and goes sprawling forward, but unfortunately, before I can gloat, he reaches out and snags me by the shirt.

Bam!

We fall to the ground together, with his heavy ass landing sprawled on top of me, and I get the breath squished right out of me. “Ugh.”

With my face smashed into the ground and two hundred pounds of muscle digging into my back, I try to elbow him, but I’m pinned.

“Motherfuck, get off!” I wheeze.

“That’s the idea,” he pants playfully against my ear.

I want to say something snarky for his bad sexual innuendo, but I’m too crushed to breathe. Thankfully, he shifts his weight, and my body cries out in relief as he lifts himself up, supporting his weight with his spread legs and forearms on either side of me.

“You suck ass at taking care of a female,” I accuse, my chest still rising and falling quickly from the run and the adrenaline of being caught.

“How so?” he asks, his nose avoiding my collar to skim up the side of my neck. Who knew such a simple touch could make me feel so electric?

“Because you should’ve spun and tucked or some shit. You should’ve made sure you took the brunt of the fall. And definitely not land on top of me. Isn’t that what dudes normally try to do?”

He chuckles against my ear, and I feel the very prevalent hardening length brush against my ass. “You tripped me. It’s only fair I brought you down with me,” he says. “Besides, you can take it. You’re no dainty little flower, Jet Plane, and you like it rough.”

I practically feel my eyes dilate with arousal at those words.

I flip over so that we’re chest to chest, and motherfuck, the pig looks good all sweaty. The sight of him braced over me is doing things to my insides. His hair still smells like peroxide and dish soap, but it somehow smells so damn good on him.

It’s still damp too, with water droplets falling down to mingle with the sweat that trickles down his chest. His bare chest. Which leads to his bare legs and bare ass and very bare dick. Because he’s buck ass naked.

“You ran out here totally naked?” I ask, proud that my voice doesn’t sound as breathy as I feel.

He has a five o’clock shadow forming over his pale, sharp jaw, and I just want to run my lips over it to feel the scratch.

“Couldn’t wear my sprayed clothes, and you didn’t exactly give me time to grab new pants,” he replies pointedly as he rocks his hips forward slightly. “Had a towel on, but it fell off.”

My eyes widen as his cock slips between my thighs, and I automatically squeeze them together like I’m trying to hold him there.

“I like you this way,” he murmurs over me.

“Like what?”

“Lying beneath me, ready to be fucked by my big cock.”

“Jesus,” I murmur.

His words make me feel like I’m falling down all over again, except instead of hitting the ground, I just keep falling and falling and falling, without ever having to feel the crash.

“What, not used to dirty talk?” he teases, his brown eyes full of hunger and playfulness.

Actually, I’m not. What

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