Page 36 of Wild Life

He feasted on me, nipping and sucking my skin with the extra pressure that I enjoyed. I liked it rough, and Cryptid was giving me what neither Eli nor any of the men I had been with ever had before.

His big hands palmed my breasts, playing with them possessively. They were his as long as he kept touching them like that.

He buried his nose beneath my cleavage, where he inhaled me deeply. The act was primal. Animalistic. Like he was satisfying some basic need to memorize my scent.

Lower and lower, he tasted me until he reached the neckline of the shirt around my abdomen. His touch glided gently over the bites on my midsection, but I was too full of adrenaline to note their irritation anymore. He tugged the shirt lower, stopping at my hip bones.

Gently, he applied more honey on my bumps, between administering kisses onto my unblemished skin. Except they weren’t regular pecks. He was devouring me.

My belly trembled with anticipation. His solid hand pressed my midsection to calm the movement while he met my gaze.

“I’m okay. You make me feel like there are butterflies in my stomach.”

He took my hand and placed it on his sculpted abdomen.

“You feel them, too?” I asked, hopeful.

He offered a crooked smirk, and I melted inside. His frown was standard on his face, and on the rare occasion a hint of a smile broke through, it turned me into putty.

God, he had a beautiful face. All of him was magnificent, but his face, which generally carried a lot of seriousness, was achingly gorgeous. And when he grinned, he was years younger and almost carefree. A man like him deserved to smile more. A man like him deserved so much more than being trapped in isolation.

Suddenly, my clothing was pulled all the way off, and I was completely bare to him.

On propped forearms, I awaited his next move.

The imaginary butterflies flapped straight into my heart. Even in our heated state, he prioritized my well-being, caring for my bites with the honey on my ankles. That area and my ass had taken the worst beating since I had been sitting cross-legged on the anthill. They’d been the first points of contact for the pests.

He worked diligently, healing each bump before moving up to my calves, sensations intensifying.

My knees parted wider, presenting myself to him as he massaged my inner thighs. He paused, completely entranced by my folds. It was the same admiration he’d had when he peered at my bare breasts—like he wanted to discover all of my mysteries. I was high off that rush, that I was a man’s first. That I would be the reference for all his sexual encounters after me. The one he could never forget. And the best part was this had happened organically and was not something I had forced, like I had many times before.

“Have you ever seen one before?” I asked.

He nodded. Maybe he wasn’t as new to this as I had thought.

“Have you ever touched one?” I asked.

He shook his head, the innocence in his eyes glimmering in the candlelight.

“You can touch it, if you like. I won’t mind.”

I won’t mind one bit.

His throat worked, and then his finger carefully traced a line around my entrance. I tipped my head back, enjoying his treatment. Round and round he went, his fingertip slipping deeper inside with each pass. My pelvis took on a life of its own, drawing micro-circles to mimic his motions. My body bowed when he found my clit with his thumb.

“Fuck.”

He gently pinched my tender flesh, the bite reverberating through my core. I reached down and showed him with my own hand over his how I enjoyed getting myself off, and together, we drew tight circles on my bud.

“You’re doing such a good job,” I murmured in encouragement.

He discovered his own rhythm, rubbing me off to it like I was an instrument. My insides turned molten with heat.

Suddenly, a thick finger plunged into me, and I dropped my head back with a moan. He slipped his finger back out, then plunged it in again, and my body was on fire as I watched him, my gaze colliding with his.

He labored slowly, too slowly to induce orgasm, but it made me greedy for more.

I sank onto him, rocking back and forth, fucking his hand like a needy slut.His slut.

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