Chapter 5

Everlee

Memories of what happened yesterday and during the night, plus the situation I put myself in, flash behind my closed eyelids before I come fully awake. I don't want to open my eyes. Ignorance is bliss and all that shit. If I stay asleep, or at least pretend to be, maybe I can forget where I am and hold onto the hope that it was all a nightmare. Opening my eyes will make the situation real again.

Unfortunately, it's not something I can avoid. Not if I want to find a way out of this mess. Also unfortunately, I can feel the rope around my waist. Unfortunately again, the soreness between my legs and the stickiness on my thighs is a harsh reminder, so my wishful ignorance would be unattainable regardless.

I don't get the sense that Wild Man is in bed, so maybe I'll be lucky and he'll be gone somewhere so I can escape.

I crack my eyes open just a sliver, enough to see that it's daylight. When I open them more, I damn near have a heart attack. Right in front of me, only a foot away from my face, is a pair of hollow eye sockets staring back at me. Fucking eye sockets! Inside of—what I assume—a human skull.

My stomach churns violently and bile threatens to make an appearance. I barely manage to swallow down the need to vomit.

I inch back from the nasty looking thing, keeping a watchful eye on it like it'll suddenly come alive and attack me. I hold the cover to my chest, because surprise, I'm still naked. Warily, I take my eyes off the skull and look around the space for my clothes. I slap my hand over my mouth as a small screech leaves my lips when I find another skull on the other side of the pallet of blankets. This one is pointed at me as well, its hollow eyes staring at me as if in judgment.

What in the actual hell?

Are these people he's killed and he's keeping their skulls as trophies?

Jesus fuck, Ever, you've really done it this time.

I back off the end of the pallet, away from both skulls, dragging the cover and rope with me. Once I'm on my feet with the cover wrapped around me and tucked beneath my arms, I look toward the opening of the space where the other end of the rope leads out of. I tip my ear that way, listening for any indication that Wild Man is out there. When I hear nothing, I let out a breath of relief.

After a quick look around, I don't find my clothes or anything I can use as clothes. Looks like I'll be running through the forest in nothing but a bed cloth. At this point, I couldn't give two craps, so long as I make it back to my car and away from the crazy man in the forest.

I keep my eyes locked to where the rope leads out and pick up the slack to give it a small tug. The rope pulls taut, but doesn't otherwise move. Which means the chances are high that the other end is tied to something and not someone.

Last night, after waiting what felt like hours for Wild Man to drift off to sleep, I meant to try to work the knot loose. But when he finally did fall asleep, the bastard's arms and legs were wrapped around me too tightly. The last thing I wanted to happen was for him to wake up. So I waited some more, hoping he would roll away or at least relax his hold enough for me to slip away. Of course, I stupidly fell asleep before that could happen. Only to be woken up sometime later to him fucking me again. Thankfully, my mind checked out.

Now I have to hope he's gone long enough. Or maybe I can find something sharp to cut away the rope.

A quick look around shows nothing I can use at the moment. Or anything I can use as a weapon. I eye the skulls. I could use those. Maybe try to break one of them and use a pointed end. But just the thought of touching either one has my stomach churning furiously.

Hearing no noises coming from the opening, maybe I'll get lucky and find the gun or taser he threw away. Or maybe my pack is still out by the fire so I can get to my satellite phone inside to at least turn the GPS tracking on. Dad and my brothers are probably already out looking for me since I didn't report in last night. Of course, my stupid self purposely kept the GPS tracking turned off because I didn't want any of them to hunt me down and drag me back home. And they would have.

Sucking in a fortifying breath and making sure the cloth is securely tucked around me, I slowly approach the entrance and peek my head around the doorway. Relief relaxes my tense muscles when I don't see Wild Man. I step outside, my bare feet crunching against the leafy ground, and dart my gaze around, looking for the forest green backpack I came with. Not finding it, I start looking for the glint of my gun.

Just as I see the shine of metal and hope blossoms in my chest, movement out the corner of my eye has me jerking to the side. Dread and trepidation curdles in my gut when the tall form of Wild Man steps into view from the small opening of the bushes.

There's a piece of cloth tied around his waist. It covers his dick, and from the looks of it, his backside. At least there's that. I don't have to stare at the mammoth-sized piece of meat between his legs.

I take a step back, my heart jumping to my throat, when he approaches. But I need not have worried. He doesn't even acknowledge my presence as he walks past. He stops where several dishes sit on a flat rock and picks up a bowl. After, he turns, and I brace again as he walks toward me. This time, I do have to worry, as his thick fingers wrap around my upper arm and he pulls me behind him.

"Hey!" I yell, yanking on my arm. It's apparent that when he grabs me, there is no getting loose from him. "Let me go!"

He does so, but only when we reach a log by the fire pit and he takes a seat. The bark has been ripped away and the wood beneath is smooth. Which is good for him, because his cloth isn't long enough to cover his ass when he sits.

My arm is pulled, and I'm forced to sit between Wild Man's splayed legs. I bite back a few dirty words and opt to choose my battles wisely. Sitting between his spread legs, although degrading, isn't as bad as say, being forced to take his cock.

Thankfully, the cock in question is hidden behind the cloth, because my face is way too close to it in this position.

I sit stiffly, my legs tucked beneath me. One of my hands is holding the edge of the blanket under my arm. I'm sideways with one of his long legs at my back and the other bent in front of me. The hair on his legs is as dark as the hair on his head and the scruff on his face. The events of the last twelve hours must be turning my head to mush because for some idiotic reason, I wonder how coarse the hair is.

My eyes move down to his feet. Big feet with long slender toes and a small scattering of lighter-colored hair on the top. I'm mildly surprised that his toenails look clean and are clipped. I would have thought they would be long with dirt underneath.

I pull my eyes away and look up at his face. I've never particularly cared for men with beards. I prefer them with clean-shaven faces. But on Wild Man, I can't imagine him without the hair covering his cheeks and chin. With his long, thick dark hair falling down his tanned, bare shoulders, it gives him a caveman-type look and suits him perfectly. And although I loathe to admit it because of what he's done to me, he really is the most beautiful man I've ever seen. Too bad looks can be deceiving.

"You have to let me go," I tell him quietly, hoping to touch the part of him that has to still be human. "You can't keep me."

Instead of acknowledging my words, he pinches something from the bowl between his fingers and holds it up to me. My eyes briefly bounce off it, noticing an orangey-yellow piece of fruit, before I lift them back to him. He looks at me, his expression only holding expectancy as he waits for me to take it.

I shake my head. "No."

His eyes turn to narrow slits and a grunt leaves his throat when he shoves the fruit closer.

I've got two options here. I can continue to refuse the fruit, not giving him what he wants—this is the option I prefer, because I want to deny him anything he wants. I've no doubt he can force me to eat if he so chooses, but I damn sure don't want to make it easy for him.

Or I can give in and hope my acquiescence earns me brownie points with him. Maybe enough that he'll untie the rope around my waist.

With no small amount of reserve, I lift my hand, intending to take the fruit from his fingers. I don't get the opportunity to. He pulls his hand back, his face forming a scowl when he shakes his head. His other hand comes up and pushes my hand away. The fruit is again lifted, this time closer to my mouth.

I narrow my eyes when I realize he wants me to take it from his fingers with my mouth. He wants to handfeed me.

Seriously?

We hold each other's eyes for several moments. His black bottomless ones to my determined brown ones.

In the end, it's me who gives in. Picking my battles, I feel I'll quickly learn, will be more difficult than I imagined.

I lean forward, never moving my gaze away from his face and slowly open my mouth. As soon as my lips part, his eyes move there. I manage to take the fruit without my tongue touching his fingers, but my lips still graze the tips. His eyes darken at the touch, and it sends a fissure of fear racing over my scalp.

I quickly jerk my head away and chew the sweet fruit, swallowing it past the dryness forming in my throat.

He holds up another piece, and it's on the tip of my tongue to say no. But I once again lean forward, this time managing to avoid touching his fingers with any part of my mouth. Apparently, Wild Man notices and finds my actions irritating, for he pinches his lips into a firm line when I lean back, slowly chewing.

The next piece he picks up, he does so where I'll have no choice but to touch my lips to his fingers. The moment my lips come in contact with the tip of his thumb, the muscles beside his eyes twitch and a low, rough sound emits from his throat.

I yank my head back and swallow the fruit before it's all the way chewed. A movement to my left catches my attention and my eyes move there. Then they widen as the cloth covering his shaft jerks and begins to point outward.

My attempt to scramble backward, away from that thing and the man it's attached to is thwarted by a hand gripping my hair. My head is jerked back, and I'm forced to look up into a pair of black eyes. The hand not holding the sheet latches onto the thigh in front of me. I dig my nails deep into the flesh, not enough to break skin, but enough he should feel a pinch of pain.

His jaw is clenched, the muscles on either side of his cheeks flexing, and his eyes blaze a message that says there will be dire consequences if I don't do what he wants.

"Mine," he growls, lowering his face so close to mine I can feel his breath. His hair hangs forward and a piece falls on my cheek.

"Fuck you," I seethe right back at him. I am sick and fucking tired of hearing that word.

With my head still tilted back by the hand in my hair, another piece of fruit is brought up to my lips, but I keep them sealed shut this time, glaring at him. Surprise filters through me when, instead of trying to force the fruit into my mouth, he gently runs it across the seam of my lips. His eyes track the movement, and I really don't like the attention he's giving my mouth.

Just as I decide to take the fucking fruit, he lifts it away and draws it to his own mouth. He chews slowly, the lump in his throat from his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

Another piece is brought to my lips, and this time, I open them. But instead of him pulling his fingers away, he keeps them in my mouth. Just inside, the tips grazing my tongue. Another rumbly growl leaves his throat.

I relax my jaw and let my teeth lightly close against his fingers. I apply light pressure. Not enough to hurt, but the threat is no doubt felt. I should bite his fucking fingers off, but something tells me the consequences would be dire.

Wild Man lifts his onyx gaze to mine and a look of challenge flashes in the dark orbs. The grip he has on my hair flexes tighter, and I feel some of the strands pop. My head is jerked back further, the angle nearly too far.

For a split second, I let my teeth sink deeper into his skin, silently letting him know, he may hurt me, but I can cause pain too.

When I release my teeth from their grip, he doesn't yank his fingers from my mouth like I expect him to. Rather, he slides them along my tongue to the back of my throat, nearly activating my gag reflex. He slowly pulls them free and releases his grip on my hair. Reaching to his right, he picks up another piece of fruit and brings it to his mouth. He closes his lips around his fingers before he slowly pulls the digit out, tasting not only the fruit, but also me.

He again reaches to his left, but instead of fruit, he holds up the same jug I drank from last night. Knowing it would be foolish to refuse him, I grab the small jug with my free hand and bring it to my lips, once again surprised at the cool freshness of the water.

Wild Man takes the jug from me when I'm finished and does the same thing he did last night. He moves it around so his lips touch the same spot where mine were. He does this while keeping his eyes on me. The hand holding the sheet under my arm tightens.

Once he's finished drinking, he drops the jug to the ground and it tips sideways, the last of the water leaking out to soak the ground.

The next moment, I'm pulled to my feet and turned to face him. The cloth is ripped from my arms, and I'm left standing in front of him bare-ass naked. All of this is done within seconds, before I'm able to even comprehend what's happening.

Natural instinct has my hand darting out, balling into a fist to slam against his face. Inches before I'm able to connect with his cheek, my wrist is caught. I try with my other fist, but that wrist is caught too.

I release an unladylike growl and try jerking up my knee. He's still sitting and I'm standing between his spread legs, so it's the perfect height to nail him in his nose. But once again, I'm stopped prematurely, this time by his legs closing around my thighs and his hands, which have moved mine behind me to my lower back, yanking me forward. I'm immobilized, and the worst part is, my bare breasts are right in his face. I shoot daggers down at him from my eyes as he looks past my breasts and up at me. His nostrils flare and he looks angry.

Well, boo-fucking-hoo. I'm goddamn livid.

I wiggle and jerk against his hold, which is a mistake because it causes my boobs to bounce in front of him. His eyes drop and zero in on them.

"Shit," I mutter under my breath.

It might be my imagination, but it looks like he might drool.

His eyes flash to me at my expletive, and I hold completely still, afraid to move.

My spine goes straight when I feel the hand not holding mine touch the outside of one of my legs. It starts below my knee. Slowly, as if gauging my reaction, he moves it upward.

I'm pretty sure my expression must show my distaste but he doesn't seem to care, because he continues his movement.

When he reaches my upper thigh, his hand veers and his palm comes in contact with my ass. His fingers flex there when I clench my buttcheeks together. A distressed sound leaves my throat, and I shake my head rapidly from side to side, telling him, begging him, without words, that I don't want this.

His brows drop low, as if my negative reaction confuses him. It doesn't stop him though. His hand moves from my butt and around to my front. It travels up and up until it stops just below my breasts. He pauses and his eyes jump to mine.

I shake my head again and his look becomes a scowl. The hand holding mine tightens its grip at the same time he pulls me forward.

"No!" I yell, knowing it's a vain attempt, but refusing to give in without a fight. "Stop!" He easily holds me in place with his arm around my waist as he uses his other hand to settle his long fingers around one of my breasts. He palms it gently at first, the look in his eyes almost reverent. As if he's fascinated just by the weight of it in his hand.

I refuse to allow that curious look to get to me. I give not one shit that this man may not know any better. That the female body is an anomaly he's never seen before and the differences between my body and his are fascinating. That, at this moment, he's exploring something new to him and he enjoys the way it looks and feels.

He may not remember what the word no means, but he has to know from my struggles right now and my fighting him last night that I did not, and still do not, like what he's doing. Therefore, he should stop.

I wince and break eye contact with him when his gentle grip around my breast flexes and tightens. I look over his head and my eyes immediately fall on the shiny piece of metal I saw earlier. What I thought could possibly be my gun. My shoulders sag with disappointment when I realize it's not my gun but a stupid utensil. It's not even a knife or fork—either of which I could have used as a weapon—but a spoon. I could still use it against Wild Man, but it wouldn't be nearly as effective.

Something rough and prickly grazes the skin of my breast, and I jerk my chin down. A noise, a cross between a strangled cry of surprise and a grunt, leaves my lips. I stare down at Wild Man as he plumps up one breast with his palm and rubs his cheek against the soft skin. He does it again on his other cheek. His nose is next. He runs it over my flesh like he's smelling me.

Against my legs, I ignore the hardness of his cock as it begins growing behind the cloth covering him.

Because of the stimulation, my nipple has become a hard little point, and of course, this interests Wild Man. Nipples aren't new to him—he has his own—but a woman's are different. More sensitive and bigger.

He shows his interest by forcing my body forward at the waist so I'm slightly bent backward. When my nipple brushes against his mouth, his lips fall open and his tongue peeks out. He runs the tip over the tight bud, just barely touching it. I bite my bottom lip until I taste blood.

I watch with mutinous eyes as Wild Man draws more of my nipple into his mouth. He sucks the bud, flicking it this way and that with his hot tongue. I feel the rumble against my skin as he releases a low growl from his throat.

My breath stutters and a small sound escapes me when the sharp edge of his teeth bite down. With my flesh still in his mouth, his eyes raise to mine. I twist my features into a scowl, letting him know just how much I hate what he's doing.

I'm unsure if it's my unwillingness to show something he wishes to see on my face or if it's something more untamed within him, but he releases my nipple and lifts his head. For a brief moment, my mind celebrates, believing he's done with his exploration. But it falls flat not even a second later.

Using my hands and his free one at my hip, he turns me around until I'm facing away from him. My legs are kicked apart by one of his and then he pulls me backward. With a renewed burst of energy, I try to yank my hands from his. All I manage to do is strain the joints in my shoulders enough to send pain blazing through me. He pulls me backward again. The new position has my legs straddling his. I'm forced down until I'm sitting on his lap with my legs spread. He opens his knees, which causes my legs to open more.

And then I feel it.

My eyes grow wide and my hands behind me ball into fists. My head falls forward, and I look down between my legs. The cloth that was covering Wild Man has been pushed to the side and his big cock is sticking out, the length of it pressing against the lips of my pussy.

My back snaps straight and the joints in my shoulders feel like they'll pop out of their sockets when I start struggling in earnest.

"Goddamn it!" I screech. "No! Not again!"

How many times do I have to say the word before I realize that Wild Man just doesn't care if I want this or not?

My wrists are let go, only for Wild Man to wrap his arm around me tightly, trapping them at my sides. I'm lifted high off his lap and he reaches between my ass and his groin. He lowers me a second later and the tip of his cock touches my entrance. I don't get the chance to prepare before he jerks me all the way down on his shaft.

I scream at the sudden painful fullness of him. Tears prick my eyes and my stomach spasms, the fruit threatening to make a reappearance. I dig my nails into my thighs, hard enough that I feel the skin break. I slam my head backward, hoping to smash it into his face, but it's no good.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to hold back any sounds, but a whimper manages to slip free when Wild Man holds me against him, pushing his hips up at the same time he grinds me downward. He touches a part of my insides that sends a sharp pain through my stomach.

He grunts behind me.

The arm not surrounding my waist, holding my arms captive at my sides, comes in front of me. His hand goes up my stomach, between my breasts, then he wraps his long fingers around my throat. He doesn't choke me, but it helps hold me in place as he uses his other arm to lift me up, only to bring me back down so hard my boobs bounce.

Another pain-filled whimper rips from my lips.

Three more times he forces me to slip to the tip of his cock and slams me back down. More deep grunts leave him.

His chest presses against my back. I let out a squeak when I'm pushed forward until I feel like I'm going to fall over. I lock my ankles around his calves. With his hand around my throat, barely loose enough to let me breathe, and his hand holding my wrists captive again, he keeps me from tipping over.

I'm basically hanging there, staring at the ground.

He uses both of his holds on me to use me for his pleasure.

When I hear the sound of his low growls as he slides me up and down his shaft, I block it out. When the feeling of him scraping against the walls of my dry pussy becomes too unbearable, I force the feeling away. When the smell of our joining invades my senses, I ignore it.

All of my efforts go to waste when I open my eyes and they land between my legs. The evidence of what's happening is right there. My gaze locks on his long cock as it keeps appearing and disappearing inside my body.

Wild Man picks up speed, which adds to my discomfort and brings forth a dose of mortification. The harder he fucks me, the looser I get. While I'm glad the pain isn't so intense, I don't like that my body is getting accustomed to the abuse.

I'm roughly pulled tightly against him and a warm feeling fills me where we're connected. A low guttural growl emits from his throat.

I keep my eyes closed and feel the hot streak of tears blazing a path down my cheeks as he releases inside me.

After his cock stops jerking, I'm pulled by my waist until I'm once again sitting properly on his lap with me still impaled on him. His sweat slicked chest meets my back, and I can feel the rapid beat of his heart against me.

His breath fans against my ear when he mutters the same single word in a low voice. "Mine."

His arm moves from my waist which leaves mine finally free. But I'm completely drained emotionally to even attempt to get away. He lifts me from his lap and sets me to my feet. My hips are grabbed, and I'm spun around to face him.

Because he's still sitting on the log, I'm forced to drop my head down, meeting his dark eyes with a deadly glare. I want to smack the satiated look off his face. Claw his eyes out and jam my fingers in their fleshy sockets. He sits there like he doesn't have a care in the world, while I silently fume inside as I feel the scalding hot evidence of his brutal rape sliding down my legs.

We stay like that for several moments. Me mentally coming up with all the ways I'd like to kill the bastard. There's no telling what's going through his mind.

His head drops, his eyes tracing my torso, down over the small line of hair on my pubic area, to the slick liquid coating my thighs.

My jaw clenches and the muscles in my thighs tense when his hand comes up between my legs. He slides the tip of his fingers through his release. Revulsion fills me.

He continues the trek with his fingers until they graze my opening. He lifts his head to watch my face when he slips a finger inside. I hold a blank expression, giving him absolutely nothing, while on the inside I want to take that finger and shove it up his ass.

His finger goes in to the knuckle, comes back out, then goes back in. After several more slow thrusts of his finger, he pulls it out and holds it up between us. His gaze drops to his finger, a curious look entering his eyes as he looks at the glistening digit.

When he brings his finger to his mouth, I can't hide the twitch in my brows when he slides it between his lips. He sucks his release from his fingers, his eyes having moved back to me. Something dark and desirous mixes with the blackness in them.

He pulls his finger free and moves it back between my legs, this time adding a second one. He does the same as he did before; sliding a finger inside a few times before pulling it free. Only this time, he doesn't bring it to his mouth, but to mine.

I press my lips together determinedly. His brows drop into a scowl, irritation tightening the lines on his face. He reaches up, grabs a handful of hair, and forces me back to my knees. My head is pulled back so far, I have no option but to open my mouth.

And of course, he takes advantage by slipping his fingers past my lips.

The taste of him is not what I expected. I've had men come in my mouth before, and while I'm not a fan of the taste, it's always been just on this side of tolerable.

Wild Man's though, it's not the salty bitterness that I'm accustomed to. It's both, but not as strong and there's something else. Almost something that has a hint of sweetness.

If I were to be honest, I'd admit that it doesn't taste bad. That thought has me wanting to spit every drop back into his face.

Wild Man's eyes heat and flare as he slides his finger over my tongue. I debate biting his finger or at least threatening him with it again, but it got me nowhere last time, so it would be a waste to do it again.

So I give him what he wants and suck his finger until he's satisfied.