Under The Oak Tree Raw Novels & Stories

The accumulation of fifteen years of being together had made the arrangement more fully itself, not less. They stood under the oak. The June light came through the full canopy in the specific quality of the filtered summer light — green and warm and particular. The oak's trunk was wide — wider than Ernest could reach around, wider than two people could reach around together. The bark was rough, the texture of the old oak, the specific pattern of ridges and crevices that had formed over decades. The roots spread out from the base, some of them visible above the ground, the evidence of the tree's underground life.

The fingers pushed inside anyway, rough and impatient, stretching me open. “Good. Tonight you learn what it means to be owned.” Aiden said. He didn’t give me time to breathe. I felt the scorching, thick head of his massive cock press against my entrance. “No condom,” he said, voice dark and final. “I’m fucking you raw.” “Wait.. ahh!” I cried. The first brutal thrust forced the air out of my lungs. He was enormously thick, long, and completely merciless. He forced every inch inside me until he was buried to the hilt, his heavy balls pressed tight against my ass.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN The oak tree was huge and from where Lucas stood, its shape reminded him of a piece of broccoli. The great trunk was thick and gnarled, the leaves spreading like a vast canopy of deep jade. This magnificent symbol of nature sat alone in a green field, an azure, cloudless sky as a backdrop. Lucas ambled up the hill. There was no such thing as urgency in a place such as this. His heart maintained the sense of peace he had carried since . . .

If the hedge wants payment for entry, it can have fabric. I have paid worse. When I reach the old boundary tree, I stop. It’s not remarkable to look at, which is why it works. A thick oak with bark like layered scars. The kind of tree people pass a thousand times without remembering. The kind of tree that survives because it’s uninteresting. I press my palm to its trunk. The wood is cold. Alive. I close my eyes and listen. Not with ears. With the part of me that learned early that silence has texture.

The bracket was redirected — she could see that even in the dark, even in the storm, the downspout angled away from the foundation the way he had described — so he had finished, he had done what he came to do, which meant he should have been inside already, which meant — Where is he. She turned. And then she heard it. Not over the storm. Under it. The kind of sound that bypassed the ears and went straight to the spine — a deep structural crack that she felt in the soles of her feet and the base of her skull simultaneously, the sound of something enormous making an irreversible decision. She turned toward the forest edge. She saw the oak move. Eighty feet of tree and the root ball had let go

As we approached the front entrance, I turned to face Rico, "Can we go back to the oak tree again?" "Why? Aren't you hungry?" He asked. "Yes I am but I feel drawn to the tree. I want to say goodnight before I sleep," I answered honestly, despite how weird I sounded. "Okay then, let's go." He said and we walked side by side again to the oak tree. The oak tree stood tall and majestic, its branches reaching out as if embracing the moon above. The air around it felt charged with a certain energy, a quiet strength that resonated deep within me.

The girl I put through ten years of school stood up at her own graduation and thanked me in front of everyone. A second later, three translucent lines appeared in front of my eyes. [She will steal the Prescott family's trade secrets, start her own company, and turn on you.] [She will publish an essay and put the internet on your family. Your wife will die of a heart attack.] [Prescott Logistics will fold. The estate will go to auction. You will die in front of the men you owe.] I stared at her. "Vanessa. Have you spent all these years filing away everything we did for you as a reason to hate us?" She blinked at me, wide-eyed and innocent. That was when I understood. The snake was al

I told her and she nodded and followed behind me. We drove all the way to the northern end of the pack and got out of the car before walking into the forest, and not long after we got into the thick forest, we sighted her all-green painted house. I stared at Lena. "Are you scared?" I asked her but she didn't have anything to say. "You know you can't be. You suggested this shit. Better pray it works." I warned and she stared down at the grass. The moment we got to the entrance of her house, I paused to look around and then I stared at Lena. "Stand here and keep an eye on the forest," I ordered, and walked in only to meet Witch Ian in the middle of a ritual.

As Drew pulls me closer and kisses me softly under the faint shimmer of lights, I can’t help but think… How could a man so sweet have been hiding beneath the surface all this time? THE END

I opened my eyes. Mara was there. Not a vision this time. Solid. Standing under the tree with her hand on its trunk, her all-white hair moving though there was no wind, her white eyes kind. “You came,” she said. Behind me, outside the circle, I heard shouting. Howls, very close now. Jax shouting, “Stay back! She’s under Oak protection! Old law!” And Harlan’s voice, furious: “She’s my pack member! That tree is dead! Old law is dead!”