Chapter 13

Everlee

I'm dreaming again. This one is a lot more pleasant and pleasurable than the last one.

I'm lying on a bed of purple flowers, staring up at a cloudless sky. The heat of the sun kissing my skin feels divine and welcoming. A smile tips up my lips, and I lift my arms above my head in a languorous stretch.

I suck in a sharp breath and let out a low moan when something delicious starts happening between my legs. Tucking my chin against my chest, I look down my torso and see a head full of black hair. Wild Man tips his head and his black eyes meet mine. I can only see his face from his nose up, because his mouth is currently devouring my pussy. The look in the black orbs is intense, like he's a starved man immensely enjoying his first meal after years of going hungry.

I slide my fingers through his hair, gripping the back and pulling his face tighter against me. His nose bumps against my clit and a spark of desire shoots through me, forcing a cry past my lips.

"Yes! Oh God, that feels so good, Wild Man."

His eyes flare with hunger and he bites down on my clit. My hips jerk up at the same time I shove his face against my wet folds.

"More," I demand huskily. "I need more."

He growls and it rumbles against my sensitive flesh.

He bites my clit again, and I screech to the heavens, the pain and pleasure mixed together making me feel something I've never felt before.

"My female," he growls. "Mine, always."

My eyes snap open at his growled declaration of ownership.

By the way my body is on fire, I'm not dreaming. My fingers cramp from the tight hold I have in Wild Man's hair.

I jerk my head down at the same time I release his hair. I try to scramble back on my elbows, but I get nowhere when Wild Man throws his arm over my stomach, holding me down.

"Stop!" I yell. My voice is so loud, I hear birds screeching as they take flight from the trees. "What are you doing?"

He doesn't answer, just continues his assault on my pussy. I suppress a moan when he jams his tongue inside me and presses his nose against my clit, just like in the ‘dream.'

I grab hold of his hair again, but this time to pull him away. "Wild Man, you have to stop. You're going to hurt yourself."

It's been five days since he was bitten by the rattlesnake. Three of those days he was in and out of consciousness. Three days of me wondering and worrying if he was going to die. It's been an exhausting experience, to say the least, both mentally and physically.

Yesterday was the first day I managed to get him to eat a few pieces of dried fruit. The wounds are still an angry red, but the swelling and blisters aren't as bad.

Wild Man ignores me and continues to, for all intents and purposes, eat me. There's no other word to describe what he's doing to me. He licks, bites, and sucks at every piece of flesh he can reach. I try to remember why he should stop, but what he's doing steals all of my common sense.

He releases me long enough to bite the flesh of my thigh, no doubt purposely leaving a mark behind. I've noticed he likes doing that; leaving marks on me like he's showcasing to everyone that I'm his. Even if there's no one here to see it.

My attempts to try to stop him are feeble. Wild Man may be the one who was bitten by a deadly snake, but I'm the weak one at the moment. Except for the first few times he's fucked me and I put up a fight, I've learned my willpower when it comes to his touch is non-existent. I want to stop him, to not give into the desire he stirs in me, but I simply don't have the will to follow through.

After an orgasm so strong that I see stars behind my closed eyelids and the tips of my fingers go numb, Wild Man sits back on his heels. He looks up my body until he meets my eyes. I should be embarrassed by the way his beard is soaked with my juices, but I can't muster the emotion. I'm still reeling from the aftershocks of my release.

My gaze slides to the wound on his arm, happy to see the swelling has gone down even more. His face is red, but I don't think it's from infection, but rather his excitement of him going down on me.

When he grabs my waist like he's going to flip me over to my hands and knees, I quickly sit up.

"Stop." I put my hands over his. "Wait."

He gives me his signature scowl. "No. You take my seed."

I ignore the apprehension the word ‘seed' and what it could mean makes me feel and slap both of his hands. "I said wait," I demand resolutely.

"Female," he growls, digging his fingers into my skin.

Knocking his hands away, I scramble up to my knees. I point to the spot I was just lying. "Lie down." I see the argument waiting to come, so I add softly, "Please."

The scowl stays in place, and at first I think he's going to force me to do what he wants, but after a moment, he lies down.

I can't believe I'm getting ready to do what I am. My body may have turned against me when it comes to Wild Man fucking me, but I've never initiated the act. It's always been him.

He keeps his gaze on me as he settles down, his hands balled into fists at his sides. His cock is long and thick, lying flat against his stomach and leaking pre-cum.

Licking my suddenly dry lips, I throw one of my legs over his hips.

If he's so intent on fucking, I'll be damned if we don't do it in a position that's least likely to aggravate his injury. I didn't nurse him back to health only for him to relapse because he was horny.

He continues to watch me, his jaw clenched and his nostrils flaring, as I settle my pussy directly over the length of his cock. I don't sink down on him immediately. Instead, I slowly rock my hips back and forth, soaking his cock with my wetness.

It feels incredible. My eyes fall closed and a low moan escapes my throat. Wild Man is so hard, I feel each ridge and vein in his shaft. I gyrate my hips, enjoying the illusion of having control of my speed and the harshness in which I press against him. I'm still overly sensitive from the orgasm a few minutes ago, so I know it won't take me long to come again.

I dip my chin down and open my eyes, wanting to see Wild Man's expression. He's the one who's always in control. Taking me roughly and without constraint. Like an animal in the midst of a frenzy. I'm not under the mistaken assumption that I'm actually in control now. Even injured, Wild Man could take over at any second. I don't know why, but he's allowing this.

I expect to see him looking at my face, but he's not. His eyes are pinned where we're pressed against each other. The muscle in his jaw is so tight, it's a wonder he hasn't chipped a tooth. It's then that I notice the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he breathes harshly. It's his eyes though that has shivers of delight racing down my spine and my pussy clenching in need. They're pitch black and flare with the knowledge that he's barely holding onto his control. Why he's holding it back, I'm not sure, but I know he won't for long.

Leaning back and jutting out my chest, I rest my hands behind me on his thighs. A low rumbling growl comes from the back of Wild Man's throat, because I know his view just got better.

I'm depraved and should probably see a therapist for enjoying my captor's reaction so much.

I rotate my hips in circles, finding just the right rhythm to slide my clit against his hard flesh. Goosebumps rise on my arms and the muscles in my stomach contract at the sensations coursing through me.

I'm on the edge and want to fall over.

"Mmm… Wild Man," I moan deeply.

I don't know if it's my moan of pleasure or if Wild Man has just had enough, but as soon as the words leave my mouth, his firm hands are wrapped around my waist.

My head snaps down to look at him. His eyes are finally on mine. He looks enraged, but I know that's not what he's feeling. He probably doesn't even quite understand exactly what he's feeling. But I do. His wants and needs are overwhelming, almost more than he can handle.

"Inside… now." His tone is harsh and animalistic. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end at his heated demand.

Sitting up, I wrap my small hand around his wet shaft and guide the head to my opening. His eyes fall back down to watch as I slowly sink down on him. I'm still not used to his size, despite the many times he's fucked me, so it takes me a few seconds to fully seat myself. I'm left deliriously full and strangely aching for more.

He hisses out a breath, his fingers digging into my waist, once I'm fully impaled on him. I lift up a couple of inches and glide back down. The tight scrape of his shaft against my inner walls has black spots dancing in my vision.

I keep my movements slow at first, taking advantage of Wild Man's temporary capitulation. I know it won't last long.

I slide up then black down, pressing my clit against the course hairs and the hardness of his pubic bone. Each time I do, the stimulation has my breath catching.

My control only lasts for a few strokes before Wild Man jack knifes to a sitting position and he takes over. His hands grip me so hard that I'll find bruises later. His growl has me shuddering. He lifts me up until just the tip of his cock is left inside. I don't have time to prepare before he pulls me back down roughly.

I cry out at the intrusion, but it's a cry of pleasure more than one of pain.

"Fuck me, Wild Man," I demand, latching my fingers around his shoulders.

He lifts me again, only to bring me back down even harder. My nipples scrape against his chest, adding to the sensations already racking my body.

"God, yes!"

I should be worried about him using his injured arm, but it's the furthest thing from my mind. All I can think about is how fucking good this feels.

Wild Man drops his head and pulls one of my nipples into his mouth. His teeth bite down, and I let out a screech. His manipulation of my body doesn't let up. He just continues to use and abuse it over and over again. He drives me up and down his cock, letting out grunts and groans as he grows closer to his release. My own release is balancing on the edge. One small push will tip me over.

It comes when he grinds me down, smashing my clit against his pubic bone.

"Wild Man!" I yell, tossing my head back with my eyes closed.

He growls, the sound sinister and savage as he stiffens below me. If possible, I feel him grow bigger inside me seconds before the warmth of his seed fills me and he lets out a mighty roar.

* * *

Sometime later,after we've settled back down in bed, I lay with my head on Wild Man's chest. I run my fingers through the hairs over his pecs, my thoughts all over the place. The ends of my hair tickle my shoulder as Wild Man plays with the strands.

I adjust against him, and the scrape of the rope tied around my waist irritates my skin.

It's a stark reminder of why I'm here, even if my recent actions don't show it.

I'm here because Wild Man refuses to let me go. I'm here because of his unhinged obsession with me.

It makes me wonder if he would have done the same if another woman had wandered across his path. Is it me that he wants? Or would any female with working feminine parts do?

I feel rage when that thought crosses my mind. I want to take that stick Wild Man used to kill the snake with and jam it through an imaginary female's neck.

There are so many things wrong with that thought.

My eyes move to Wild Man's injured arm. It looks no worse for wear after our fucking. I run a fingertip just below one of the puncture wounds. The blisters are gone now and there's hardly any swelling. It still has a long way to go to fully heal, but it looks tons better than it did.

"Does it hurt?" I ask, breaking up the silence around us.

"No."

I doubt it really doesn't hurt, but Wild Man is the typical male and won't admit to it. Or maybe he just doesn't want to admit it because it might make him sound weak. Or maybe he's concerned it might worry me.

"Not first time," he says, his voice hesitant. Unless it's a one or two word sentence, his words always come out slow and stilted, like he's making sure he's using the right ones.

I tip my head down, looking past his, for once, flaccid cock, to the spot on his thigh where there's another pair of puncture wounds. I trace the small dots with a finger.

"Were your parents alive when it happened?"

"No."

My throat closes, and I blink back the tears welling in my eyes.

I clear my throat before asking my next question. "Was it the same kind of snake?"

"Yes."

Jesus. Twice he's survived a rattlesnake bite. Once when he was all alone with no one to care for him. Obviously, this man has a guardian angel.

I bring my hand back to his chest and run my fingers over the slash marks on his ribs.

"And this?"

"Big cat."

It takes me a moment to process what he said. Cougars and bobcats are known to be in this area. How in the hell could he have possibly survived an attack like that?

"How did you get away?"

"Big knife. Big cat dinner."

I don't know why, but his answer nearly has laughter bubbling out of me. There's nothing amusing about the situation. It's actually quite heartbreaking and scary as shit.

"What… fuck mean?"

The sudden change of subject and the question itself throws me for a loop. I tip my head back to look at him and find his steady black gaze on me.

How do I answer that question?

It takes me a few seconds to form a reply.

"It can mean many things." I slide my head back on his arm so I can see his face better. "An extreme reaction to something is one. But the way I used it earlier, I was telling you to have sex with me."

"Sex? That what we do?"

"Yes."

"Already doing sex," he says, his brows pulling down.

"Yes, but I wanted you to do it harder and give me more."

"Why?"

I pause a moment. "Because fucking feels good."

This is the weirdest conversation to be having with a grown man. But then again, he was so young when he was left alone that I'm sure he never had the ‘birds and the bees' talk with his parents.

"Hard sex is fucking."

Even though we just ‘fucked', the way he says the word fucking has a small tingle forming between my legs. I ignore the need to rub them together.

"What is… soft sex?"

Again, his question gives me pause and it takes me a moment to come up with an answer. "Doing it slowly and softly is lovemaking."

He turns his head to stare up at the trees. "Lovemaking," he says slowly, almost with awe. He looks back down at me. "Next time we do lovemaking."

I don't know how I feel about making love to Wild Man. It's true that the term means soft and slow, but there's more that I didn't say. Making love is done with someone you care about. It involves tender emotions and done with reverence. It's looking deeply into someone's eyes while your bodies come together and feel an undeniable connection.

What I feel for Wild Man may not be the hatred I should feel, but it's certainly not the deep emotions that come with making love with someone.

Although, a small part of me wonders what he would be like as a gentle lover. Today was the first time he has taken me with us facing each other. All the other times have been while on my hands and knees or bent over. I hate to admit it, but I liked looking at him and seeing the way his eyes lit with desire and the tightening of his jaw when he found his release.

It's a dangerous thought to have and one I need to work at banishing from my mind.

I can't afford to develop feelings that will make leaving Wild Man hard.

Because one thing's for sure, I'm leaving the first chance I get.