Page 22 of The Wild Man

His fingers release my neck and he works the leaf over my other collarbone to my other shoulder. Down my arm he goes, and I again flip up my palm.

We keep our eyes on each other while he does this. I don’t know what his thoughts are, but mine are all over the place. Thinking about things I don’t want to think about. Stuff that should never even cross my mind, given what Wild Man has done to me.

With his free hand, he cups some water and dribbles it on my shoulder then runs his bare hand down my arm. He does the same to the other side.

He washes my neck and starts moving the leaf down my chest between my breasts. My muscles stiffen and my knees lock into place when he moves it to the top of my right boob. A curious note enters his eyes and he tilts his head to the side as he moves down the slope and over my nipple.

I press my lips into a firm line, fighting back the need to tell him to stop. I tell myself that I do want him to stop, and the reason I keep quiet is only because it would be useless. It’s not like he would listen anyway. It’s certainly not because what he’s doing actually feels good.

Liar, liar, Ever.

I shake my head and ignore the taunting voice.

Using the leaf, Wild Man slides it down my breast until he reaches the underside. He cups my flesh and uses his thumb and forefinger to pinch my nipple.

I bite the inside of my cheek, willing away the unwanted feelings he’s slowly evoking in me.

This has turned into more than bathing. I still don’t try to stop him though. Again, there’s no sense in even trying. Wild Man will do whatever he wants.

I drop my eyes from his, unable to hold his gaze any longer. Not with the way he’s watching me, like he’s waiting to see what I’ll do, how I’ll react to his ministrations.

He moves to my other breast and gives it the same treatment. My toes curl into the soft sandy ground, and I ball my hands into fists.

Disgust sours my stomach at my body’s betrayal. How can I find anything this man does to me even remotely pleasurable? He’s done nothing so far to constitute such a reaction from me.

My eyes focus on the tanned skin of his chest. He has coarse hair over his pecs, but not much. It thickens slightly further down his stomach, leading to his happy trail. I’ve never understood the term ‘happy trail’ more than I do right now. From the thing that’s bobbing out of the water, a part of Wild Man is very happy. Not to mention that ordinarily, that thing could make a woman very happy.

It’s only brought me pain so far.

My eyes jerk up when Wild Man moves the leaf slowly down my stomach, on a path to parts of me that I don’t want him to touch. I clench my stomach muscles and my hand darts out to grab his wrist. The muscles in his jaw bunch as he grinds his teeth. I can see the determination in his eyes to continue, but he surprises me by dropping his hand.

He latches them around my waist and spins me around so my back is facing him. Part of me likes this position better because it means I can’t get lost in his black eyes. But it also spikes up my anxiety because I won’t know what’s coming.

I suck in a startled breath when Wild Man sets his hand on the center of my back right below my neck. The slightly rough texture tells me he’s still using the leaf. With leisurely movements, he washes my back, going from one shoulder blade to the other and sliding the leaf down my spine. I close my eyes, and let myself, just for a moment, imagine that I’m somewhere else and enjoy the feeling of being taken care of.

His ministrations are unhurried, as if he’s getting just as much enjoyment as I am.

My eyes flutter open when he reaches my lower back. He stops just above my butt, then cups more water and lets it rain down my back. I feel the trickles of water run down the crease of my ass.

I’m turned around and my eyes drop when Wild Man holds out the leaf.

He thumps his closed fist against his chest and grunts. “Me.”

Seeing no way around it, I tentatively take the leaf, understanding what he wants. It’s my turn to bathe him now. I don’t know why, but the idea of me washing him is more daunting than him washing me.

I swallow the saliva that’s gathered in my mouth and drag my eyes up to his to find him watching me with a look of eagerness.

Licking my lips then rubbing them together, I place the leaf on his shoulder. It takes me a moment to gather my thoughts enough to glide my hand down his arm. It’s no surprise the man is so darkly tanned and has the muscles he’s built over the years, but it’s a whole new experience feeling those muscles beneath my hands. Even through the leaf, I feel every single hard ridge.

It makes me wonder how they would feel if there was no leaf in the way.

Again, I shove those thoughts out of my head.

I move the leaf to his other arm. I feel his eyes on me, but I don’t look up. I’m not sure what I’ll do if I see the look in his eyes. I know he’s enjoying my hands on him, but I don’t want to see the proof. It’s already hard enough ignoring the huge dick that’s bobbing in the water.

When I finish with his arm, I follow the same path he took with me. I start at his collarbones and slowly move the leaf across the hollow of his throat then down the firm planes of his stomach. My gaze gets caught on two marks beside his belly button. They’re scars, about an inch apart and each about three inches in length. They look like slash marks. Like maybe an animal attack. They’re old and faded, which makes me believe whatever happened was years ago.

I want to ask him about them, but hold back the words. I came here to learn about the mysterious Wild Man, but this trip has turned into so much more. I worry that if I hear any of the horrors this man must have endured, it may lessen the hatred I’ve formed for him. I need to hold on to that hatred, keep it strong, because he doesn’t deserve anything softer than that.