Page 24 of The Wild Man

I force my eyes to not focus on the two puncture wounds, even though my curiosity is more than piqued. What kind of snake bit him? How old was he when it happened?

I shove those questions out of my head. They won’t help me escape. If anything, they’ll hinder me.

I make sure to wash the rest of him slowly, because I know once I’m done with his legs, Wild Man will give me no choice but to move on to his dick. I wash his feet too, even between his toes, just to give myself more time.

All too soon, I’m finished. I lean up and tilt my head back. Wild Man looks at me expectantly, and I grit my teeth.

My eyes drop to his cock just as it bounces in the air between us. Like it has a mind of its own and it’s waving to get my attention. I know if I don’t do this on my own, he’ll just force me to do it anyway.

So I wrap the leaf and my fingers around it, intending to get this over with as soon as possible. At least I’ll have the leaf as a barrier.

But the moment I touch him, Wild Man darts his hand out and grabs my wrist. I release him and he takes the leaf from my hand, dropping it on the rock beside me. Then he puts my hand back on him.

A swarm of butterflies form in my belly at my first real touch of him. He’s much smoother than I thought he would be. And dear God, he’s so damn hard it’s like touching titanium.

A hissed breath blows out between his stiff lips.

Without being ordered to, I slowly glide my hand down his shaft all the way to the root. He’s so big, I can’t wrap my fingers all the way around him.

I slide my hand back and by the time I reach the tip, a small bead of precum has formed on the slit.

Unconsciously, I imagine myself leaning forward with my tongue sticking out to catch the drop before it falls away.

Sometimes, my mind is stupid and likes to think about things that it shouldn’t be thinking about. Like willingly taking this man’s cock in my mouth. I must be certifiably insane for the thought to even cross my mind.

I don’t know exactly what Wild Man expects of me, so I twist my wrist and do my best to make him feel good, even though good is the last thing I want him to feel. He doesn’t deserve to feel good. But the sooner I make him come, the sooner this will be over.

More precum leaks from the tip and it drips down my hand. To hopefully speed things up, I reach up with my free hand and grab his balls, gently rolling them around.

I don’t look at his face as I work his cock and balls, but I don’t look at said body parts either. I can’t. I’m afraid if I do, they’ll catch too much of my attention. It’s already hard enough trying to ignore the small grunts of pleasure I hear coming from him. Instead, I stare at his belly button. It’s an innie and it’s surrounded by dark, coarse hair.

I’m so focused on that part of his body, that I startle when my head is suddenly jerked back. The hair on the back of my head nearly snaps at the harsh way he’s fisting the strands. His eyes bore down on me and his nostrils flare with his heavy breathing.

With his head tipped down, his wet hair falls forward, framing his face. I want to reach up, grab a handful, and yank with all my might to see how much he likes having his hair pulled.

I let his dick go when my head was pulled back. Now he has it in his hand and is pointing the tip at my mouth. I press my lips together and shoot him ‘fuck you’ vibes with my eyes. One corner of his mouth tips up and it pisses me off even more that he seems to be amused at my refusal. So much so, I barely manage to quell the urge to bite the tip of his dick off. I bet he’d lose that dumb smirk then.

He presses the wet tip to my mouth and coats my lips with his precum. “Open,” he orders in a gruff tone.

I smash my lips together harder. Lifting my hands, I set them on his thighs and use my nails as words to tell him he can take his demand and shove it up his ass.

It’s like he doesn’t even feel them digging into his flesh because he shows no reaction.

After swiping his dick across my lips a few more times, he lets my hair go. I’m so stunned by the move, I just manage to catch myself from tumbling backward off the rock.

This man confuses the fuck out of me. One minute he harshly forces himself on me, demanding I give him exactly what he wants. But in other instances, he stops himself before he goes all the way. Why? Why give in to his urges one moment, then stop himself in the next?

I’m pulled from my thoughts when Wild Man grabs my ankle and lifts my leg. I’m forced to set my hands behind me before I fall over. He sets my foot on his thigh, which puts me in a very uncomfortable position. Uncomfortable because my legs are spread and my pussy is more exposed than before.

I try to pull my foot away, but he just latches onto my ankle with a firmer grip. The muscles in my calf tense, preparing to shove him backward with all my might, but the look in his eyes gives me pause. It’s a look of daring, one that says the retribution of such an act would be swift and very unpleasant. Releasing a sigh of resignation, I relax my muscles and let him do whatever he wants.

He grabs the leaf he set away a few minutes ago and places it on my shin, then slowly begins rubbing it in circles. I have to admit, rather reluctantly, it does feel good to have someone bathe me.

He works on my lower leg, including my foot, before he moves to my knee and then my thigh. The closer he gets to the junction of my thighs, the tenser I become. But he stops before he gets there. Setting my foot down, he grabs my other leg and does the same to that one. Again, he stops before he reaches the center between my legs.

He puts that foot on the ground, and I wonder, with no small amount of trepidation, what’s going to happen next. I don’t have to worry for long. Grabbing my upper arms, he brings me to my feet, which puts me on even ground with him. He spins me around so my back is facing him. Pressing a hand between my shoulder blades, he tries to shove my top half over.

I resist. “What are?—?”