Chapter 21

Everlee

"Come sit." I pat the space between my legs on our pallet of blankets.

Wild Man walks over and drops to his knees, scooting toward me, a predatory look in his eyes.

I laugh. "Not for sex, you savage."

"Fuck my momor."

I hold my hand up and press it against his wide chest, stopping him from moving over me. "There's time for that later." I smile up at him as he looms over me. "Now turn around and sit."

He gives me a sexy disgruntled look before he turns and drops to his butt. I scoot up until my legs hug him, and he lays his hands on my ankles. His long mane of blue-black hair falls down his back. It's so thick and luscious, surprisingly healthy since he's not taken care of it. I love running my fingers through it, but they often get tangled in the strands. I was ecstatic when Wild Man pulled out a brush from Ben's pack.

Speaking of Ben, he left about an hour before the sun went down, which was a couple of hours ago. He told Wild Man and me that he would be back in about a month.

Would we still be here then?

Once Wild Man is settled in front of me, I pick up the length of his hair, separating it into several sections. I grab the brush and start working on the bottom first.

When I told Wild Man earlier what the brush was for, he didn't seem surprised. One of the few memories of his mother is of him playing with her hair, so he probably remembers what it's used for. But apparently, he never felt the desire to use one.

"You have such beautiful hair," I say wistfully, carefully running the bristles through the strands.

"I like your hair," he says.

I know he does because he's always touching it. My hair is great, but his is fabulous.

"Do you want to brush mine after I'm done with yours?"

His thumbs start moving over my ankle. "Yes."

I smile as I set the first section away and start on another.

"Ben seems like a good guy. It's nice that he brings you things."

"Good, yes."

"Why did you save him all those years ago?"

Wild Man tips his head back, like he's enjoying the attention I'm giving him. "Wanted coyote dinner."

I snort out a laugh at his reply. That may be the case, but I also believe it was because he simply wanted to save Ben.

"You must really trust him to allow him in your home."

"Our home."

I roll my eyes, but my lips twitch with a small smile. "Fine. Our home."

"Hmm…," he hums. I peek at the side of his face and find his eyes are closed.

"Why did you never go with him when he offered to take you to town?"

His eyes open and he looks across the space. "Liked where I was. Didn't want different."

That's understandable. Anyone would be leery of such a big change. Especially when those changes are so drastic and you don't fully understand what those changes would be.

I carefully work on a knotted section. "Do you ever regret not going? Do you ever wonder what life would be like away from here?"

"No." His thumbs move circles on my ankles. "Maybe now."

My fingers pause in his hair, and I look at him. "Why now?"

His eyes flicker to the side, meeting mine. "Is momor happy?" he asks instead of answering.

"With you, yes," I reply with the truth. I am happy with Wild Man. More so than I ever thought possible. "But out here," I use the brush to gesture around us, "only sometimes. It's much different than what I'm used to. It's harder to live in a place like this. And I miss my family and friends."

His brows drop, but he doesn't say anything else. I want to know what he's thinking. Is he mulling over the possibility of leaving the wilderness? Taking a chance in civilization? For some reason, that thought makes me a little sad. I don't want Wild Man to change because of me. I love the way he is. His savage nature is what drew me to him. Living in civilization will eventually force that out of him.

But should I have to totally change to be with him? Upend my life and forget about the people I love? Living without him is something I can't even comprehend now, but I don't want to live without my family and friends either. In order for us to be together, one of us will have to make sacrifices.

"Do you trust me, Wild Man?" I ask.

I drop the section of hair and pick up another as I hold my breath and wait for his answer. The absence of the rope and his willingness to allow Ben into the tree hut proves he does, but I want to hear him say the words.

"Yes." There's no hesitation in his voice.

"I'm glad." His answer pleases me, and I can't help the silly grin that slides across my face.

As much as I want to broach the subject about us leaving, I decide to wait. I don't see Wild Man being very receptive to the idea at first, and I don't want to ruin this moment.

Once I'm done with his hair, I run my fingers through the strands, amazed at how soft it is. It reaches just past his shoulder blades and is the prettiest color I've ever seen. His mom had red hair, so I wonder if his dad had the same bluish black hair or if he got it from someone else in his family.

I drop the brush by my hip and push Wild Man's shoulders. "Lay down," I tell him. His head twists around and he looks at me. I lean forward and press my lips against his shoulder. "Please."

I move out of the way as he gets to his knees. When he starts to move around to lie on his back, I stop him. "No, on your stomach."

His brows drop, but he doesn't argue as he leans forward on his fists and lays down. I hike a leg over him and settle my weight down on his butt. Leaning forward, I press my hands against his lower back, digging my fingers into the muscles. I smile when Wild Man lets out a deep groan.

I work my hands in circular motions, hitting all the hard muscles. I can't imagine how good this must feel for him, having never had someone give him a massage.

I slowly move up his back, kneading his lats with my knuckles, then switching to my fingers when I get to his deltoids and shoulders.

Wild Man lifts his hips, one of his hands going under him, and a little thrill goes through me because I know he's adjusting himself. Is what I'm doing turning him on?

I suck in a breath when the movement has his ass pressing against my core.

Jesus, when did I become so wet and why does this feel so good?

Wild Man's head is turned to the side. His eyes have been closed during my massage, but now they slide open. His hair is out of the way, so I have a clear view of his face. The heat I see in his black gaze has more moisture seeping from me.

I lean forward and lay my lips against the crook of his neck, licking the spot and then sucking the skin into my mouth. He's marked me so many times, it's about time I do the same.

His hips lift again, putting pressure against my pussy, and I can't hold back a moan. I lower my torso, letting my breasts skim across his back.

"My Ever is wet," he growls.

He's definitely not wrong. I'm soaked even as more leaks out of me.

"Rub pussy on me. Let me feel how wet you are."

Jesus. It was a mistake teaching him naughty words.

Maybe I should be embarrassed to consider rubbing myself on his ass, but that doesn't stop me. I push my pussy down, smearing myself on his asscheeks.

"Ah… God," I moan.

I sit up and look down my body to Wild Man's butt and notice the amount of juices I've left on him. Again, shouldn't I be cringing?

"More, momor," he grunts, his voice grating. "Harder. Fuck against me."

I don't know what turns me on more; his filthy mouth or what I'm doing.

I rotate my hips back and forth, up and down, getting lost in the erotic and down-right dirty way I'm getting off on grinding against him. My lips part, and I pant, losing my breath at the intense sensations. Who knew humping a guy's ass could feel so erotic and good.

I press harder against him, needing a firmer touch. My clit hits the perfect spot, and I let out a low cry.

Good God almighty.

Suddenly, Wild Man spins beneath me. Before I can lose my balance, his arm latches around my waist and he takes me down to the bed, so now I'm the one beneath him. The look in his eyes is feral, like he's just as turned on by our naughty play and he's on the verge of madness.

He grabs the back of my legs and lifts them, spreading them wide and pushing them back so far that my knees nearly touch the pallet beside my head. My pussy and ass are open, and his eyes lock on both. I bite my lip in anticipation as he dips his head with a needy growl rumbling from his lips.

"Yes, Wild Man!" I scream when he slides his tongue through the folds of my pussy.

He snarls against me, and the sound sends my desire soaring higher. He sucks at my clit, grazing his teeth against the bundle of nerves. His tongue moves down to spear my sopping hole, then he flattens it and moves back to my clit to torment me some more.

He braces his forearm against the back of my legs to keep them in position and uses one hand to poise a finger at my entrance. As he continues to drive me insane with his mouth at my clit, he shoves a finger inside. I reach between my legs with one hand and fist his hair, smashing his face against me.

"That's it, momor," he growls, thrusting a second finger inside me. "Fuck my face. Smear your juices on me. Drown me."

I cry out, my eyes snapping closed and my head thrashes back and forth. When he adds a third finger, I think I might pass out from the overload of pleasure.

Then, with three fingers fucking my pussy and his mouth still devouring my clit, he presses another finger at my back entrance. The juices leaking from my pussy make it easy for him to slide the digit inside. He doesn't stop until his knuckles prevent him from going any farther.

"Wild Man!" I shout his name over and over, smashing him against me.

"I fuck this hole, momor," he growls, shoving his finger deeper in my ass. "This mine. All of you mine."

He snarls and growls, sucking my clit like it's the last dinner he'll ever have. His fingers fuck me deep and fast in both holes, until I hit a peak so high, I slide over the edge and my orgasm slams through me.

I scream and buck my hips, calling out his name, begging for more even when I know I can't take anymore.

My legs are boneless, and I feel like I'm floating by the time my release dwindles to little lingering spasms.

My eyes slowly slide open, my breaths coming in pants with little mewls of pleasure. Wild Man peers down at me from his kneeled position. He wipes the back of his arm across his mouth, but his beard is still wet with my release. He fists his cock, the head an angry red with a clear pearl of pre-cum clinging to the slit, angling it down toward my entrance.

Before he can plunge inside, I press against the bed to sit up enough so I can grab a handful of his hair. I tug him down and meet him halfway with my lips.