Page 46 of The Wild Man
He drops his head closer and his heated breath fans over my cheek. “Mouth.”
“I said no,” I reply forcefully.
I feel his glare on the side of my face, and I ignore it.
After a moment, his lips press against my cheek, and I’m once again surprised he doesn’t force his kiss on me. I don’t know why, but it’s like he wants me to give it willingly.
His lips slide to my ear and he pulls the lobe between his teeth. He releases it a second later.
“Your mouth, mine.”
He can think my lips are his all he wants, but it doesn’t change the fact that I will never willingly kiss him. Not in our current situation anyway.
After his words of possession, he uses his fists against the bed and jackknifes up. My eyes follow his movements as he stalks out of the enclosure. It takes me a few minutes to calm my racing heart. As much as I want to keep from kissing him, a small part of me wonders what it would be like to have his mouth against mine. I don’t want that curiosity in my head. It would be so much easier to continue to deny him if it wasn’t something I secretly crave.
I push those thoughts away and get up. I expect Wild Man to have left the tree hut, so I’m surprised when I find him near the fire pit. I eye him warily as I make my way over to the water jug. I adjust the rope around my waist when the coarse hairs irritate my skin. I’ve gotten used to having it around my waist, so for the most part, it doesn’t bother me anymore. Is it possible to get calluses around your waist?
I pick up one of the mint leaves from a small stack and wrap it around my pointer finger. Opening my mouth, I gently rub it against my teeth. A few days after Wild Man first took me, he showed me how to use the leaves to clean my teeth. While it’s not the same as brushing your teeth, I’ll definitely take it over not cleaning them at all.
After I’m done, I take a mouthful of water and swish it around my mouth before spitting it out onto the ground, then swallow another mouthful. My mouth isn’t as fresh as if using a toothbrush, toothpaste, and mouthwash, but I’ll take it.
Once that’s over, I walk over to Wild Man. He waits for me, an expectant look on his face. I flick the rope out of my way and sit on his thigh where he’ll hand feed me. He still won’t let me feed myself. I feel like a fucking toddler being fed by her parent. But seeing the enjoyment on Wild Man’s face, I know how much he likes doing it—and for some asinine reason, I like giving him pleasure. At least in this regard—so I don’t complain.
After feeding me several bites of fruit and dried meat, he picks up a piece for himself. Before he can bring it to his mouth, I reach out and snatch the piece of meat from him. I hold it up to his lips. He doesn’t immediately open, so I look him in the eye with a raised brow. I watch in amazement when after several seconds, his lips twitch at the corners and amusement enters his eyes.
I don’t know why he finds the notion of me feeding him amusing, but I can’t think of that right now. All I can focus on is the pleasure lines by his eyes and the way the black orbs seem to sparkle with his amusement. I realize I want to see him laugh. I want to see a grin split across his face.
I give my head a little shake, not wanting, nor needing, those thoughts to fill my head. I push the meat closer to his mouth and he parts his lips. After I drop the food inside, I try to pull my fingers free, but Wild Man grabs my wrist. He holds my fingers in his mouth and swirls his tongue around the tips. Once. Twice. Three times before he lets me slip my fingers out.
My heart thumps in my chest and the muscles in my upper thighs twitch.
Jesus, the way this man can so easily get my motor running is pathetic.
Realizing the mistake I made by offering to feed him, I let my hand fall to my lap. When I don’t reach for more of the food, Wild Man’s brows pinch together and his arm tightens around my waist.
“More,” he grunts.
I let out a small sigh, knowing it’s pointless to deny him when he’ll just make me do it anyway. I pinch a piece of fruit between my fingers and bring it to his lips. I try my best to not let it affect me, but I can’t help the tiny thrill I get when his greedy lips pull it from my fingers, the glow of pleasure in his eyes growing.
This continues, him feeding me and me feeding him, for a while. We both watch the other, our expressions turning more and more heated. When I barely catch myself from squirming on his lap, I know I need a distraction.
“Do you remember your parents?” I ask after I swallow the berry Wild Man just popped into my mouth.
The lustful look in his eyes dims some with my question. He brings his fingers to his lips and licks off the black juice from the berry before he answers.
“Little.”
His words are coming easier and less stilted now that I’ve gotten him to talk more.
“Can you tell me about them?”
He doesn’t say anything at first, his eyes appearing unfocused as he looks across the way. I follow his gaze to the pile of random things on the ground. A lot of it is regular things a person might have. A few books, the nudie magazines I came across the other day, some utensils and plastic containers, some small broken down cardboard boxes, an old boombox style radio that probably no longer works, and a few other odds and ends.
I get the feeling that all of it must have belonged to his parents.
“Noeny had long red hair,” he says quietly. “She—” he pauses for a moment, as if searching for a word. “—braid it. She like me play with it.”
I smile. That must be why he likes touching my hair. His mother liked it, so he figured I would too, which I do. It’s relaxing.