Page 1 of Wild Life

Chapter 1

Breaking Up and Breaking Habits

Maris

“You’re so fucking big. I’m gonna come.”

False. And, false.Eli was on the smaller side of average, and although size didn’t really matter, according to that old adage, he didn’t know what to do with it.It’s not the size of the boat, but the motion of the ocean…

Orgasm was yet another distant dream, like dark-chocolate-chip ice cream on a waffle cone in the dead of night, or getting a seventh season of that show based on the British monarchy. And why exactly couldn’t they continue the show? There were a hell of a lot of royals still alive and causing enough drama to fill at least another twelve episodes.

With lids squeezed shut, Eli rolled his neck from side to side as if he were in some deep trance. “God, Maris. It’s like my fat cock was made for your pussy. I could do this all night.”

Oh God. Please, no.My labia could only tolerate about three more minutes of his drilling before I’d need some ointment from all the chaffing. His scratchy pubes were abrasive as a steel-wool sponge.

Think about bats.It might seem a little weird—okay,very weird—to distract oneself from intercourse by thinking about bats, but that was the level of obscurity a scientist’s brain achieved when searching for their next hit of dopamine. Besides, bats were never too far from my mind anyway. In a few hours, I’d get to hightail it off the boat and begin my research on my favorite species of bat, the Pacific sheath-tailed bat. Once rampant in the islands of the South Pacific, the tiny creatures now faced extinction throughout the region, with less than an estimated one hundred individuals left in the world.

I had the privilege of studying a known colony based in a cave in Fiji. My project was part of a larger one with a team consisting of myself, not-so-fat-cock Eli, and two other members who were to evaluate the effects of agriculture on the natural wildlife in the region. We’d paid multiple visits to nearby islands to investigate in the same manner, yet never before had I had the opportunity to study the largest known colony of Pacific sheath-tailed bats in the world.

But first, I needed to put an end to the jackhammering between my legs.

I arched my back, jutting my B-sized tits out, and unleashed my most seductive moan—the kind that only a woman could fake.A porn moan.“Babe, fuck me harder! You give me the best dick of my life!” I grabbed his ass, urging him on. It was safe to say that I would not be on Santa’snicelist this year with the number of lies that had easily rolled off my tongue.Good.Maybe Krampus would come get me for beingnaughtyand finally give me the orgasm I had yet again been robbed of. I’d heard he had a huge monster cock…or at least, that was what my romance novels said.

My praise worked because Eli’s hips moved faster, his shaft daggered into me at lightning speed. Since there wasn’t enough suction between us, I could feel his length dragging against my lower wall with each stroke. I mean, he had to be fully erect if he was able to move without it slipping completely out, right? I assumed I wasn’t particularly stretched down there. My gynecologist had even noted in my charts that my vagina wasunremarkable, as mundane as that sounded, during my last checkup when she’d inserted an IUD. So, then, why didn’t we fit together properly?

A cramp seized my shoulder from playingdodge the bulletas I tried to avoid the sweat that dripped from Eli’s bushy brow. The temperature on the boat was certainly warm, but the South Pacific air was too much for his sweat glands to handle.

The coils in the mattress creaked under the repetitive motion, which—coupled with the rocking of the cabin on the water—was beginning to churn my belly. Thank Jesus for the scopolamine patch behind my ear, or else I’d have been puking my guts out from the commotion. Then again, maybe a little vomit would have stopped the hammering.

I studied my colleague hovering over me as he pressed on.Eli Ross, B.S., M.S., Ph.D.Associate Professor of Entomological Conservation. Expert in the proliferation of the Fijian Megachilid bee. He was brilliant on paper. And while his thick black hair contrasted with his pale skin, making him almost ghostly under the shine of the night-light, he wasn’t terrible looking either. If I saw past the Victorian-apparition exterior, I could see the faint outline of abs and vivid green eyes, the color of a Rustic Sphinx caterpillar. He would be a catch for any woman…with an extra-petite vagina.

My attention wandered from Eli to the fire-detection sensor on the ceiling, then to the blaring white display of my phone.3 a.m.I had to be up in four hours to prepare for landfall. It was time to employ my trusted technique, guaranteed to wrap this little tryst up. I swirled my tongue around the tip of my index finger, then guided my palm around his ass cheek creating some space to work.

Eli groaned out his appreciation. “Christ, this is like heaven.”

“Mmm,” I coaxed, slyly inching my finger upward. His breathing picked up, and I knew it was time to act. I quickly slid my wet finger into his asshole, eliciting a sharp grunt from him.

“Fuck!” His thrusts turned erratic, and he wheezed as the orgasm overtook his body. I squeezed my thighs around his hips and shouted out my fake release without regard for our teammates, Fran and Malcom, asleep next door. The men who had blessed my bed…or cursed it…always fell for over-the-top theatrics during sex. It boggled my mind that society deemed them more apt to rule countries when some of them were so fucking gullible.

Eli collapsed onto my chest, his weight crushing me. His warm breath blowing on my neck was as enjoyable as a turtleneck in the dead of summer. I shoved him off so that he was on his back next to me.

He hummed out a heavy sigh. “That was amazing.”

I turned to him. “Mmm,” was all I could manage again, proving that I was capable of…not exactly honesty, but not lying, for a change.

The last bits of his lust-filled haze cleared, and he eyed me eagerly. “Was it good for you, too? You sounded like you were really enjoying it.”

I brushed my slick hair out of my face. “Enjoydoesn’t quite sum it up.” I offered a gentle smile.

His smooth fingers caressed my cheek, and I leaned into his touch.Thiswas what I craved—my reason for enduring lackluster coitus. Fucking was the gateway to cuddling, and if I closed my eyes, I could bask in the ephemeral sense of being cherished for precious seconds in the afterglow of orgasm.

Don’t get me wrong, sex could be enjoyable—when performed correctly—but it was the closeness I desired. I longed to belong.

Freud would say that my need for intimacy was derived from losing my parents at the age of eight in a car accident and spending my formative years being raised by my mother’s sister, who had the emotional range of drywall. The only time I could remember being hugged by Aunt Sherri was the day of my parents’ funeral, when I was forced to see their stone-cold corpses lying in polished wooden boxes. For the briefest moment, Aunt Sherri had let down her stern exterior to mourn her sister, and I had been the beneficiary of those rare emotions, the likes of which I knew I would never witness again.

However, it wasn’t my aunt’s fault. My grandparents had raised their daughters to fulfill predetermined roles. Mom had been the youngest and more outgoing of the two, so they had expected her to marry someone well-off like my father, the doctor, and give them grandchildren. Aunt Sherri had been more reserved—a thinker—so her paved route had led to a career.

Science ran in my blood, not only from my cardiologist father, but from Aunt Sherri, too. She had worked her way through college to become a biochemist. Having earned her Ph.D. at the age of twenty-five, the woman was a force to be reckoned with.

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