Primal Tides 🔥
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Chapter 1: Savage Dawn Awakening 💋
The dim light of Portland’s rainy dawn filtered through the hotel curtains, casting jagged shadows across Lena’s sweat-slicked skin. She lay sprawled on the king-sized bed, legs tangled in sheets that smelled of musk and last night’s bourbon. Jax’s broad frame hovered over her, his callused hands pinning her wrists above her head. His breath came in hot gusts against her neck, ragged and demanding.
“Fuck, Lena, you drive the beast in me wild,” he growled low, his voice a primal rumble that vibrated straight to her core. Those green eyes, flecked with gold, bored into hers—hungry, unyielding. She’d known him only two days, this rugged trail guide from the Rockies who’d crashed into her life at that dive bar mixer for her design internship. But damn, their connection hit like a storm, raw and electric.
She arched up, her full breasts pressing against the coarse hair of his chest. Nipples hardened to peaks, aching for friction. “Then unleash it, Jax. No holding back. Train leaves at noon—make me feel every second ’til then.” Her words were a challenge, hips bucking to grind her slick folds against his throbbing hardness. The scent of her arousal hung heavy, mingled with his earthy sweat.
He didn’t hesitate. Releasing one wrist, his massive palm cracked against her thigh—sharp sting blooming into heat. She gasped, tasting salt on her lips from biting them. Jax shifted, the bulbous head of his cock nudging her entrance, teasing the swollen lips. One brutal thrust, and he buried himself balls-deep in her dripping heat. No condom this time; she’d gone on the pill weeks ago, craving that bare, primal flood.
“Shit… so fucking tight,” he grunted, pulling back only to slam home again. The bedframe rattled against the wall, a rhythmic thud echoing like war drums. Lena’s nails raked his back, drawing red trails that made him hiss. Inside, her walls clenched greedily around his girth, pulsing with every veined ridge dragging over her sensitive spots.
Pleasure coiled tight in her belly, sharp and feral. Memories flashed: last night, after the bar, they’d stumbled here. He’d bent her over the balcony railing, city lights blurring below as he pounded her from behind. Wind whipping her dark curls, she’d screamed his name while he filled her ass—first time for that, a burning stretch that shattered into ecstasy. Now, this missionary grind felt intimate, almost tender amid the savagery.
“Harder, you bastard,” she demanded, voice hoarse. Legs wrapping his waist, heels digging into his ass to pull him deeper. The slap of skin on skin filled the room, wet and obscene. Jax’s fingers tangled in her hair, yanking her head back to expose her throat. Teeth grazed, then bit—not breaking skin, but marking her as his.
Her climax hit like a freight train. Inner muscles spasming, milking him as waves of fire ripped through her. “Jax! Oh god, cumming… primal fucking release!” she wailed, body convulsing. Juices gushed around his pistoning shaft, soaking the sheets. He followed seconds later, roaring as hot jets erupted deep inside, painting her womb with thick ropes. They collapsed, chests heaving, his weight a delicious crush.
Minutes ticked by in sticky silence. Finally, Jax rolled off, cock slipping free with a lewd pop. Cum trickled from her puffy slit, pooling beneath her ass. She scooped a finger through it, bringing it to her lips—salty, musky tang exploding on her tongue. “Taste us,” she murmured, offering him the digit. He sucked it clean, eyes darkening again.
“Wish I could stay, bottle this fire.” His voice softened, thumb tracing her hip bone. But reality loomed—the Amtrak to Seattle, then his flight back to Denver. Guiding season waited; her internship chained her here.
Lena sat up, thighs quivering. The room reeked of sex and regret. She padded to the bathroom, the cool tile shocking her overheated feet. Under the shower’s scalding spray, soapy hands explored bruises forming on her thighs—badges of their weekend frenzy. Jax joined, his soapy length pressing her back. No more fucking; just quiet washing, stolen kisses tasting of toothpaste and farewell.
Dressed in jeans hugging her curves and a loose tee hiding bite marks, she watched him pack. Guitar case slung over his shoulder—he was a part-time musician too. “That burrito stand,” she said, breaking the quiet. “Truck by the old mill. Greasy heaven before the station.”
He grinned, primal spark lingering. “Lead on, wild one.”
Chapter 2: Tracks of Longing
The food truck’s spicy chorizo burritos steamed in waxed paper, grease dripping down Lena’s chin as rain pattered the awning. Portland’s gray skies matched her mood—Jax across the rickety table, munching with that easy grin. But under it, tension simmered. His train to Seattle was in ninety minutes; his flight after.
“Two days wasn’t enough,” she admitted, wiping her mouth. Voice casual, but heart squeezed. Jax had crashed into her world like a landslide—tall, muscled from hauling kayaks and climbing sheer faces. Sandy hair tousled, forearms veined from ropes. They’d met Thursday night at the industry happy hour; by Friday, hotel sheets shredded their inhibitions.
He reached across, thumb brushing her knuckles. “Feels like we’ve been hunting each other lifetimes. Primal pull, you know?” The word hung, evoking last night’s balcony ravaging. Her core clenched at the memory.
Drive to Union Station was short, too short. Rain-smeared windshield, classic rock low on the stereo. His hand on her thigh, squeezing. Parking, they grabbed his bags. Platform buzzed with commuters; her stomach knotted as the train’s horn blared—a mournful wail.
They kissed fiercely, tongues tangling, hands clutching like lifelines. His stubble rasped her skin; she tasted burrito spice on him. “Text me everything,” she whispered, nipping his lower lip. “Every dirty thought.”
Jax boarded, leaning from the vestibule. Wave after wave, until the train chugged away, vanishing into misty tracks. Lena stood frozen, rain soaking her jacket. Ache bloomed—physical, from soreness between her legs, and deeper, a void where his primal energy had filled her.
Back in her tiny apartment overlooking the Willamette, she stripped. Mirror showed the evidence: hickeys blooming purple on her neck and breasts, finger bruises on hips. Slipping into bed still rumpled from their afternoon quickie—her riding him reverse cowgirl, ass cheeks rippling with each bounce—she scrolled his texts. First stop: thinking of your tight little cunt gripping me.
Heat pooled anew. Fingers dipped between folds, finding herself soaked. But no—save it for him. She replied: And your thick cock splitting me. Hurry back.
Night fell slow. Internship emails piled up—mockups for a craft beer campaign. Her boss, prickly Carla, demanded revisions by dawn. Lena worked numbly, mind replaying Jax’s growls, the way he’d fisted her hair while throat-fucking her Saturday morning. Primal dominance that unlocked her submission.
Sleep came fitful, dreams of chasing him through forests, bodies slamming against trees in endless rut.
A Flash of Heat
Monday blurred: coffee runs, client calls. But afternoons freed for freelance gigs. Lena’s phone buzzed constantly—not Jax fully, delayed by signal on his layover, but Sara, her wild roommate and barista queen. Sara had eyed Jax suspiciously at the bar: “He looks like trouble. The good kind?”
Now texts flew: Spill! Did he wreck you good?
Lena smirked, typing back mid-sketch: Wrecked and rebuilt. His cock’s a weapon. Miss the stretch already.
Sara’s replies bubbled: selfies with latte art, rants about asshole customers. Light distraction from the throb in Lena’s chest. Evenings, Jax called patchy from Denver mountains. Voice gravelly: “Fantasized about bending you over that station bench. Public eyes, your moans echoing.”
Her breath hitched. “Pervert. I’d drip for it.”
Tuesday grind: internship dragged. Carla nitpicked her logos—”Too edgy, Lena. Tone it down.” Bullshit. But Lena’s fire smoldered inward, fueling secret sketches: abstract nudes inspired by Jax’s body, all sinew and power.
Chapter 3: Digital Fires 🔥
By Thursday, Lena’s world narrowed to pings and pulses. Jax settled into guiding gigs—whitewater rapids east of Denver—but carved time for her. Texts evolved filthy. Morning: Woke hard, stroking to your tits pic. Send more.
She did, in the agency bathroom stall: skirt hiked, fingers parting slick labia, clit peeking swollen. Your tongue belongs here.
His response: photo of his fist around veined shaft, pre-cum beading. Gonna choke you with this next time.
Afternoons, Sara’s chatter filled gaps. They’d bonded over bad breakups; now Sara grilled for details. “Primal, huh? Like wolf-mating shit?” Laughing over cheap wine one night, Lena confessed the balcony anal—rough entry, her squirting mess. Sara’s eyes widened: “Girl, you’re unleashed. Invite me next rendezvous?” Tease, but heat flickered.
Nights peaked in video calls. Jax shirtless post-shower, towel low. Lena dimmed lights, propping phone on pillows naked. “Show me how you’d fuck my face,” she breathed.
He gripped base, jerking slow. “Kneel, slut. Open wide.” She obeyed, fingers plunging her cunt, three deep, knuckles slick. Gagging sounds on imaginary cock, saliva dripping chin. His grunts primal, echoing her wet slaps.
“Cum for me,” he commanded. She did, back arching, squirting arcs onto sheets—clear fluid puddling. He exploded ropes across abs, growling her name.
Afterglow chats deepened. Jax shared scars from avalanches, lost buddies. Lena confessed internship doubts—chasing corporate dream clashing her free spirit. “You make me feel alive. Primal, untamed.”
Saturday, new frontier: voice notes during her shift. Her phone vibrated in pocket amid steaming espresso machines. Listening in alley break: his whisper describing tying her spread-eagle outdoors, feathers teasing to whips. Her panties soaked through; she rubbed discreetly against dumpster edge, stifling moans.
Forest Fantasies
Inspired, Lena wandered Forest Park trails Sunday—Jax’s urging. Towering firs dripped dew, earth rich and loamy. Alone, she stripped to panties, bark rough against back. Fingers circled clit furiously, imagining him: claiming her against mossy trunk, cock spearing ass while fingers wrecked pussy. “Primal forest fuck,” she whimpered aloud, orgasm crashing, knees buckling. Birds scattered at her cries.
Texted him blurry pic: flushed face, nature blurred. Your fault. Need the real beast.
His reply: Planning it. Next visit: woods, no mercy.
Chapter 4: Inferno at the Edge
Jax’s week ignited Monday. Pawnee Outfitters’ office hummed—maps, gear checklists. His boss, rugged ex-Army Reyes, ruled with charm masking steel. Crew banter flowed over jerky and IPAs: rapids tales, client fuckups.
Long homestand vibe mirrored source grind—back-to-back tours, dawn pack to midnight unpack. Jax checked time obsessively, craving Lena’s call. Tuesday dragged: elite group through class IV rapids, waves slamming kayak like fists. Adrenaline high, but post-run, exhaustion bit.
Office wind-down: stowing paddles, chugging free brews Reyes liberated. Phone buzzed—Lena: Bed. Call soon? Craving your voice in my ear… and elsewhere.
Hope surged. Then Reyes cornered them: “Fields flooding. Tents need staking before storm.” Minors-style hazing; crew groaned but trudged out. Rain lashed as they wrestled nylon in mud, pegs slipping. Forty minutes wasted. Back soaked, Jax’s temper flared—Lena’s window slammed shut.
Reyes smirked, cracking a beer. Laughter rippled. Jax snapped. “What the hell, man? Fourteen-hour day, and this bullshit? Fuck off.” Words exploded, face hot. Stalked to truck, peeling out gravel-flying.
Home reeked of wet dog—his mutt Boomer slobbering welcome. Shower scalded guilt away, but doubt crept. Quit? Torpedoed guiding cred? Bed swallowed him, sleep evading.
Morning sheepish return. Reyes waved him in: “Kid, fire needs stoking sometimes. Apology accepted. Beers later?” Handshake sealed. Jax exhaled—job safe, lesson learned. But simmered: life’s too short for games when primal bonds called.
Ripple Effects
Lena sensed his edge on call. “Rough day?” Her voice soothed like balm.
“Boss pranked. Nearly blew it.” Confession spilled; her laugh warmed. “Sounds like my Carla. Channel that rage into fucking me senseless next time.”
Sexts reignited fiercer. Jax snapped dick pics mid-riverbank: This rages for your holes. She countered from design desk: nipple clamps self-inflicted, pain-pleasure twist.
Chapter 5: Reckoning Flames 💋
Friday loomed—Jax’s redeye booked. Portland reunion. Lena buzzed planning: hotel again? No—her apartment, then day trip to Coast Range. Primal outdoor promise.
Week blurred in frenzy. Her internship peaked: beer campaign pitched, Carla’s rare nod. Sara teased endless: “Your glow’s radioactive. Jax unlocking floodgates?” Nights, Lena edged herself merciless—vibrator humming to his audios: growls detailing double penetration fantasies, toys stretching both holes.
Jax’s tours peaked too: canyon epic, stars wheeling overhead fireside. Crew yarns, but mind wandered to Lena’s curves under him, screams echoing cliffs.
Airport pickup: her car idled curbside, heart slamming. He dropped bags, yanked her into passenger seat for devouring kiss. Hands roamed instantly—his under skirt, finding bare, drenched pussy. Fingers plunged knuckle-deep. “No panties? Filthy girl.”
“For you. Drive careful—I squirt if you don’t stop.” Laugh breathless. Homeward, his hand worked her steadily, car swerving at redlights. She came shuddering at his command, gushing over seats.
Apartment door barely shut: clothes shredded. He shoved her wall-against, cock—freed from jeans—ramming throat. Gags choked, tears streaming, mascara ruin. “Take it, my primal slut.” She did, throat bulging, spit ropes dangling.
Bedroom frenzy: restraints from bag—soft cuffs binding wrists to headboard. Jax devoured her: tongue lashing clit, three fingers curling G-spot till floods erupted. Then flip: ass up, paddle cracking cheeks red. Lubed cock breached ring—slow burn to fury. Pounding anal, hand fisting hair: “Scream for your beast.”
“Yes! Primal god, wreck me!” Orgasms chained: ass clenching, pussy untouched yet squirting. He flipped, plunged cunt bare—final surge, cum erupting volcano-hot.
Collapsed entwined, aftershocks trembling. Whispers: futures tangled. His guiding winters? Her designs anywhere. Bond forged, primal tide unbreakable.
Saturday dawn: woods awaited. Picnic blanket amid ferns, dawn chorus serenade. Slow worship first—mutual oral, 69 devouring till mutual peaks. Then raw: her atop, riding savage. Trees witnessed their howls, bodies slick with sap and sweat.
Sunset return: sated, marked. “This,” Jax murmured, tracing new bites, “is just beginning.” Lena smiled, primal heart full. Distance? Mere tease for next unleashing.
