The next morning, I was already outside when the others started waking up. The sun was barely above the tree line.
Isaac stumbled out first, rubbing his eyes and looking like he hadn't slept. He probably hadn't. The pathetic bastard had probably spent the whole night reliving what he'd heard—or worse, what he'd missed.
"We need to get back to the cabin," he said, his voice hoarse. "The others will be worried."
Rachel and David emerged a moment later. Rachel's eyes were red-rimmed, swollen from crying. She wouldn't look at me. David, on the other hand, glared daggers straight into my skull.
"We're splitting up," I said.
David's head snapped toward me. "What?"
"The bear's still out there," I explained calmly, like I was talking to a child. "We're low on ammo. If we all stay together and it attacks, we're fucked. Two groups have a better chance of making it back."
"That's bullshit," David said, stepping forward. His fists were clenched. "You just want to—"
"I want to survive," I cut him off, my voice flat. "Isaac, you take David. Follow the ridge line back to the cabin. It's longer, but it's safer—higher ground, better visibility. Rachel and I will take the lower route through the jungle. We'll meet you there in an hour, maybe less."
"No," David said immediately, his voice rising. "Mom comes with me."
I looked at Rachel. She was staring at the ground, her arms wrapped around herself.
"What do you want, Rachel?" I asked.
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Her eyes darted between me and David, desperate, trapped.
"I—I think Jack's right," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's safer this way. Splitting up."
David's face went red. "Mom—"
"David, please," she whispered, and there was something in her voice—something broken and resigned that made even Isaac look away. "Just… just go with Isaac. I'll be fine. I promise."
He stared at her for a long moment. Then at me. His fists were shaking now, his whole body vibrating with impotent rage.
But he didn't argue.
He couldn't.
Isaac grabbed his arm, tugging him back. "Come on, kid. Let's go."
David jerked his arm away but didn't resist. He looked at his mother one more time—a look that was equal parts heartbreak and fury—then turned and disappeared into the jungle with Isaac.
Rachel and I stood alone in the clearing.
The silence was heavy.
"Let's move," I said.
---
We walked in silence for ten minutes. The jungle was thick here, the canopy blocking out most of the sunlight.
My cock was already hardening in my sweatpants. Just being near her—knowing what I'd done to her last night, knowing what I was about to do—was enough to get me going.
Rachel glanced at me, then quickly looked away. But I saw it. I saw her eyes drop to the bulge growing in my pants.
"You keep staring at my cock," I said.
She flinched like I'd slapped her. "I—I wasn't—"
I stopped walking. She stopped too, a few feet ahead of me.
"Don't lie to me, Rachel."
She bit her lip, her face flushing deep red. "I'm sorry. I just—I didn't mean to—"
I stepped closer, closing the distance between us. She backed up instinctively until her back hit a tree. She gasped, her eyes going wide.
"You're thinking about it, aren't you?" I said, my voice low and rough. "Thinking about how it felt in your mouth. How it stretched your throat. How it tasted when I came all over your face."
"No," she whispered, but her thighs pressed together.
I reached down and grabbed her hand, pressing it flat against my cock. She gasped, her fingers instinctively curling around the shape of it through the fabric.
"Feel that?" I said, grinding against her palm. "That's what you do to me, Rachel. Your face, your body, the way you submitted last night—it makes me so fucking hard I can barely walk."
She tried to pull her hand away, but I held it there.
"You caused this," I said. "So you're going to fix it."
"Here?" she whispered, her eyes darting around nervously. "What if someone—what if David—"
"There's no one out here but us," I said. "And even if there was… I don't give a fuck."
I released her hand and started pulling down my sweatpants.
My cock sprang free, thick and hard, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.
Rachel stared at it, her lips parted.
"Get on your knees," I said.
She hesitated.
I grabbed a fistful of her hair and forced her down. "I said. Get. On. Your. Knees."
She dropped, her knees hitting the dirt with a soft thud. A small whimper escaped her lips.
"Please," she whispered, tears already forming in her eyes. "Not again. I can't—"
"You can," I said, guiding my cock to her lips with my free hand. "And you will."
She opened her mouth.
I shoved my cock inside, groaning as her warm, wet mouth enveloped me. She gagged immediately, her hands flying up to my thighs, trying to push me away.
"Hands behind your back," I ordered.
She hesitated for just a second, then obeyed, locking her fingers together behind her back.
Good girl.
I started fucking her face—slow at first, letting her adjust, letting her feel every inch sliding past her lips. Then faster. Deeper. Hitting the back of her throat with every thrust.
She gagged and choked, spit running down her chin, tears streaming from her eyes. But she didn't pull away. She couldn't.
"That's it," I groaned, looking down at her. "Take it. Take every fucking inch."
She looked up at me, her eyes red and watering.
I wondered how many times she'd done this for David. How many times she'd knelt for her own son, letting him use her mouth just like this.
The thought made me thrust harder.
"Did David ever fuck your throat like this?" I asked, my voice rough with arousal. "Or does he just lie there like a lazy little shit while you do all the work?"
She made a muffled sound around my cock, her eyes squeezing shut.
"I bet he does," I continued, my grip on her hair tightening. "I bet he just lies there while you suck him off like a good mommy. Pathetic."
Her whole body shuddered. Whether it was from shame or something else, I couldn't tell.
I pulled out suddenly, my cock slick with her spit, a long string of saliva connecting the tip to her swollen lips.
"Tell me," I demanded, looking down at her. "Tell me the truth. How many times have you sucked your son's cock?"
She sobbed, her whole body shaking. "I… I don't know. I stopped counting."
"How long?" I pressed. "How long has this been going on?"
"Two years," she whispered, her voice so quiet I almost didn't hear it. "Since his father died."
Fuck.
Two years of kneeling for her own son. Two years of swallowing his cum, of pretending it was normal, of letting guilt eat her alive.
"And does he fuck you too?" I asked, stroking my cock slowly, keeping myself hard. "Does he put this desperate little pussy to use?"
She shook her head violently. "No. Never. Just… just this. Just my mouth."
"But you want him to," I said, watching her carefully. "Don't you?"
"No!" she cried, her voice breaking. "God, no, I—"
I grabbed her hair again and forced her to look up at me. "Don't fucking lie to me, Rachel. I can see it in your eyes. You think about it, don't you? Late at night when he's sleeping next to you. You imagine what it would feel like if he rolled over and pushed inside you."
She broke.
Completely.
"Yes," she sobbed, the word torn from her throat. "Yes, okay? I thought about it."
I smiled.
"Good girl," I said softly. "Now open your mouth again."
She obeyed without hesitation this time, her lips parting, her tongue extending slightly.
I shoved my cock back into her throat and fucked her brutally, chasing my orgasm, using her like the toy she was becoming. Her gagging, her tears, her muffled whimpers—it all pushed me closer.
When I felt my balls tightening, felt that familiar pressure building at the base of my spine, I pulled out and stroked my cock fast and hard.
"Close your eyes," I said.
She did.
I came.
Thick ropes of cum splattered across her face—her cheeks, her nose, her lips, her forehead, even her hair. It dripped down onto her tank top, staining the thin fabric with white streaks.
She gasped, her mouth falling open, her body trembling.
"Don't wipe it off," I said, tucking my cock back into my sweatpants. "Leave it there."
"But—David—he'll see—"
"I don't care," I said. "Let him see. Let him know exactly what you are now."
She started crying again, silent sobs wracking her body. But she didn't wipe her face.
She just knelt there in the dirt, covered in my cum, broken and beautiful.
"Get up," I said. "We need to keep moving."
She stood on shaky legs, her face still dripping, her eyes red and swollen.
We walked the rest of the way in silence.
---
We reached the cabin just as Isaac and David were arriving from the other direction. They must have taken the long way, just like I'd told them to.
David's eyes locked on his mother immediately.
He saw the cum.
His face went white. Then red. Then white again. His fists clenched at his sides, his whole body going rigid.
"You—" he started, his voice shaking with barely controlled rage.
I walked past him without a word, heading straight for the cabin door.
"JACK!" he screamed.
I stopped. Turned slowly. Looked at him with calm, cold eyes.
"What?" I said.
"What did you do to her?" he demanded, his voice breaking. Tears were forming in his eyes now. "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?"
Rachel grabbed his arm desperately. "David, please—"
He shook her off, staring at her like she was a stranger. "How could you? He's—he's using you, Mom, can't you see that? He's—"
"I know," she whispered.
He froze.
Stared at her.
"You… you know?"
She nodded, tears streaming down her face, cutting clean tracks through the drying cum. "I know. But I don't have a choice, David. I don't—"
"Yes, you do!" he shouted, his voice cracking. "You can say no! You can fight back! You can—"
"She is mine, if want to fap go into the ocean don't touch her."
"Fuck you," David spat, but there was no strength behind it. Just a broken boy trying to sound tough.
I turned and walked into the cabin.
---
Chloe was waiting inside, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. The moment I stepped through the door, she spoke.
"Why are you creating a harem?"
I stopped. Raised an eyebrow.
"Is that jealousy I hear, little devil?"
"Don't 'little devil' me," she snapped, pushing off the wall. "You have me. You have Lydia. Now you have this random woman and her creepy son? What the fuck, Jack? What's next, my mom?"
The room went silent.
Martha, who'd been sitting in the corner, looked up sharply.
Lydia, who was tending the fire, froze.
I stepped closer to Chloe. She didn't back down. She never did. That's what I loved about her.
"You worried I don't want you anymore?" I asked quietly.
"I'm worried you're turning into a fucking animal," she shot back, her eyes blazing.
I grabbed her throat—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to remind her. Enough to make her gasp. Enough to make her thighs press together.
"You knew what I was from day one," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "You knew I'd take what I wanted. You loved it. You fucking begged for it. So don't pretend to be shocked now."
Her breathing quickened. Her pupils dilated. Her hands came up—not to push me away, but to grip my wrist.
"I'm still yours," I said, leaning in until my lips were inches from hers. "But that doesn't mean I belong to you. Understand?"
She glared at me for a long moment.
Then she kissed me.
When she pulled back, her lips were swollen, her eyes dark with lust and fury and need.
She walked away going inside our room.