Page 37 of Wild Life

He worked me well as he discovered this new skill. I lifted my feet off the table and rested my ankles on his sturdy shoulders.

The rush within built to a frenzy, the promise of release beyond my grasp. “That’s it. Keep going. Do you feel how wet I am for you?” I moaned. “Don’t you dare stop.”

He fucked me faster, and my hips bucked at a violent pace. “Oh God—"

And then reality hit me like a freight train.

I couldn’t call out his name.

I didn’t know his name.

I didn’t knowhim.

He was a stranger, and I was splayed out on a table, desperately chasing an orgasm from a man who couldn’t even say the word. He was yet another notch on my bedpost, and I couldn’t ever make the relationship anything more than a good fuck because I didn’t know him.

This wasn’t right. I wasn’t right.

I kicked him away and bolted off the table, any potential orgasm shattered by the cold splash of realization that had rained down on me.

His hands moved for mine, but I shook him off, too freaked out to endure his touch. “No. I’m sorry, I can’t.”

What could I say to offer a coherent reason for my mental spiral? That I was addicted to touch? That I had stooped so low as to let a man I didn’t know anything about fondle me? That I was taking advantage of a man who seemed to have very little experience with women, if any?

No…this was wrong. Cryptid, or whatever his real name was, didn’t deserve to be treated like this. He was too good. Too good for me.

“I’m sorry,” I muttered again, before grabbing my shirt and tripping over my feet as I ran out the front door and into the rain, like I always did.

Chapter 19

The Come Back

Aleki

The door slammed, and it was as if Maris had never existed. Except she was still everywhere. The phantom pressure from where her ankles had been wrapped around my head remained. My finger was still slick and warm from her vagina. And my ears still buzzed with her breathy moans. I could still smell her musky scent. I lifted my finger to my nose, inhaling the memory of her that was only moments old.

Had I done something wrong?

Her responses to my actions had convinced me that she had been enjoying it. She had encouraged me to continue. Begged me not to stop. And I hadn’t wanted to stop.

I’d had no idea that my touch could make another person react that way—that it held such power to make a woman’s body melt like that.

Had I mistaken my ability? Was I terrible at what I had been doing to her? My experience was limited to my hand on my own dick. Handlingtitsandpussies, as they were sometimes called in the books in my trunk, was a foreign adventure.

It seemed so much easier on paper. The man would hold the woman and kiss her body until he shoved his cock inside her, and then they wouldcometogether. They made it sound so simple. And none of the books mentioned standing with a painfully stiff shaft. I was more confused about a woman’s body than I had been before I had offered to treat her ant bites.

I should have stuck to the original task of covering her bumps with honey and then turning in to sleep. But as was the case whenever she was near, I had lost track of my goal and chaos had followed.

I hated chaos. My days had been routine, and I preferred them that way. Then Screech Owl had shown up and terrorized my life with her loud voice and unpredictable behavior. And long legs. And perfect breasts.

My cock jerked painfully, threatening to explode as I pictured her lying on the table like a meal ready for me to eat.

“Fuck!” I cursed out loud, slamming my palm onto the table still warm from her ass.

Without untying the cloth, I squeezed myself hard. It twitched eagerly for attention. I pumped hard, more violently than usual, imagining what it would have been like if it had been my length inside her rather than my finger. My hips thrashed back and forth as I hunched over, tending to my needs.

My release was halted by the sound of the door opening, and I spun around with my back facing the door, cock still in hand.

The door closed again and soft footsteps paired with what must have been drips of water sounded on the floor.

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