Page 39 of The Wild Man

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.”