Page 23 of The Wild Man

I steer clear of the appendage popping out of the water as I finish washing his stomach. No prompt is needed once I’m done. He turns around and gives me his back. Doing this side of him is a little easier. I don’t have to worry about his eyes on me, and while the backside of him is no less appealing, it’s not quite as distracting.

His hair, thicker and softer than I realized now that I’ve touched it, goes almost to the middle of his back. I brush the strands out of my way. Starting at his shoulders, I work my way across both. With his eyes not on me, I selfishly enjoy looking at him. His shoulders are wide and his trap muscles are deliciously defined. I run the leaf over them, and a stupid part of me wishes I could feel them beneath my bare hands.

I move to the center of his back between his shoulder blades. When I reach his lats, they feel tense, as if he’s holding his body stiff. The urge to massage those muscles to loosen them hits me all of a sudden, but I ignore it.

I reach his waist, and I quickly move the leaf across his skin. I don’t want to linger too long in this area because it’s way too close to his tanned ass.

Thankfully, as soon as I’m done and I take the leaf away, Wild Man spins back around. My eyes spring up to his before they can latch onto his cock. I hold the leaf out to him and he takes it.

My hair isn’t wet, so I take a step back to dunk myself, but before I get the chance to, Wild Man grabs me by the waist and pulls me toward him until our chests are pressed together. I tell myself the feeling of our skin touching, of my breasts smashed against his firm chest, my nipples scraping against the coarse hairs on his pecs, isn’t arousing. I tell myself that, knowing deep down inside this isn’t the first lie I’ve told myself in the last ten minutes.

My hands latch onto his shoulders, whether to push him away or to simply hold onto him, I’m not sure.

“Legs.”

I know what he wants and before my brain can compute my actions, I wrap my legs around his waist. It’s a mistake that I should have foreseen. I’m an idiot for not thinking before acting.

The length of his cock wedges itself perfectly between the lips of my pussy. Sensations that could lead to stupid things if I let them smack me right between my legs.

I wiggle my hips, unhooking my legs, and push against his shoulders. “Put me down,” I say with no small amount of panic filling my voice. I can’t afford to let anything he does to me feel the smallest bit of good.

My movements become frantic, and I don’t even care that I’m wasting my time. I shove and dig my nails into his shoulders, trying my best to jerk my hips away from him. To get his dick away from me.

He puts both hands on my butt, pulls me snug against him, and the next thing I know, Wild Man submerges us both in the water, holding us beneath the surface for several seconds. The water is so clear that I can clearly see his face. Little bubbles form and pop out of his nostrils and his long hair floats around him. I’m still wrapped around him, but I’ve stopped my struggles.

When he brings us to the surface, I suck in several deep breaths. I open my mouth to tell him exactly how I feel about his stupid maneuver, but I snap it shut when he starts swimming further out into the water. He’s heading toward the waterfall and a giddy sort of excitement makes my belly squirm. I’ve always wanted to play in a waterfall.

Before we reach it though, Wild Man veers to the right and stops us at a couple of rocks jutting out of the water. One rock sits lower than the other. There must be more rocks underneath the surface or it’s not as deep, because he lifts us both and sets me down on the lower rock. He moves back, and my shoulders relax when our bodies separate, giving me the relief of no longer having his dick pressed against me.

I try to close my legs, but Wild Man stops me by putting his hands on my knees. “Stay,” he says. His voice is low and rough as his eyes stay locked between my legs.

A warm blush coats my cheeks. I want to argue, but I press my lips together to hold the words in.

He holds the leaf out to me. “Bathe.”

I don’t take it at first. I sit stubbornly on the rock, my back ramrod straight and my hands balled into fists on my thighs. It takes him a moment to realize this and when he does, his eyes slowly lift to mine. I swear every inch his eyes touch, is like a caress to my skin. I don’t like the feeling.

When his gaze finally meets mine and he sees the determination in my expression, the pulse in his temple begins to pound. I can literally see the vibration of that pulse.

He takes my hand in one of his big ones and uses the other to uncurl my fingers. He slaps the leaf in my palm, leans over me, and issues with a low growl, “Bathe me.”

I’m tempted to rip up the stupid leaf and throw it in his face for good measure. But I haven’t reached that level of tantrum yet. Besides, he’ll just get another one.

I let out a huff of hot air through my nose and grit out, “Fine.”

Seeming satisfied with my capitulation, he leans back. I drop my gaze and come face to face with his groin. Our positions puts my head even with his waist, and of course, he’s still hard, so his dick juts out at me.

I’ve already washed him from the waist up, so what’s left is right in front of me. There are his legs too, but something tells me it’s not those body parts he wants me to concentrate on.

The hand holding the leaf shakes. I’m nervous for some reason. I’ve seen plenty of dicks in my lifetime, but the one in front of me has been used against me. Half of my brain urges me to grab it and yank the fuck out of it until it detaches from the owner’s body. That’s one way to incapacitate Wild Man so I can get away.

The other half—the dirty devil on my shoulder—is curious and wonders if Wild Man’s cock is as smooth as it looks. Each time I see it, it astounds me that it actually fits inside my body. It’s not only long, but thick. It’s a wonder he didn’t do permanent damage to my insides. Bluish, prominent veins run the length of it and the head is an angry deep shade of red. A patch of dark hair surrounds the root and the two balls below it hang low. My eyes zero in on the clear drop of liquid that clings to the slit.

A guttural groan has my eyes jerking up. A lump lodges itself in my throat when I see the desirous look in Wild Man’s eyes.

Clearing my throat and getting back to the task at hand, I don’t touch the dangerous thing nearly slapping me in my face like I know he wants me to. I lean to the side away from it and press the leaf to the top of his thigh, methodically rubbing it down his leg. The hair on his legs is thick and dark, matching the hair on the rest of his body.

On the outside of his thigh, I come across another scar. This one is two small round holes about an inch apart.

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