Chapter 5
“ A naked man, lost in the jungle, rescues a woman. Obviously, he’d want to fuck her. Simple caveman mentality,” I spat aloud. “It’s a good thing you’re gorgeous, and I’m mad as hell at Chris for putting me in this situation.”
Oh. Jayne. You’re pitiful .
This was precisely how I’d gotten through my breaks with Chris, looking on the bright side. Denial. Bargaining. I was now deciding this man was savage and didn’t know better. To him, I was his for the taking. He’d captured or rescued me and would have his way with me. Simple.
No matter how I justified it, the savage’s cock was supersized much longer and thicker than Chris’s. There was no way he wasn’t going to hurt me.
“I know what you want to do but don’t think that is going to fit,” I told him flatly as he stroked it.
This man didn’t care what I was saying as he tore off my bra with his free hand, snapping the straps. Apparently, he hadn’t understood. Powerless under his grip, I dreaded what might happen. His eyes burning into me and mouth falling open said he planned to fuck me all right.
Fuck that.
“Get off me, you big brute,” I hissed.
He quit stroking himself.
I was prepared to fight him, but his stunned stare questioned me like he’d never been refused before.
“What? Are you surprised that being tied up and taken against my will isn’t my idea of a good time? I mean, if we were dating and role-playing, that’d be a different story.” I was babbling. It wouldn’t do. I found my strong voice. “Listen. You brute . You need to untie me. Now .”
Like a switch flipped, he wasted no time freeing my hands. The man clearly understood me.
I rubbed my wrists. “That’s better.”
Still, I caught the flicker in his eyes. Something… feral. Like he didn’t like that I said no. Like he wasn’t used to it. That flicker only lasted a second, but it clung to me. I didn’t forget it.
I went to cover my breasts. But he captured my free wrists. I thought I was in for a fight, but the savage shocked me by helping me to my feet. Too bad, I couldn’t stand at all. Yes, my feet still ached from running in heels, but swollen and purple, my ankle was undoubtedly injured.
Noticing, he helped me inside the cave and lit a fire like a boy scout, no lighter in sight. I twisted my dress around to cover my naked chest.
He disappeared.
Alone in the cave, I thought about what had just happened.
The savage stopped when I told him to. Obviously, there was a civilized man behind this beast. When he returned, he brought a pot of water and cleaned my sore feet.
Then he produced a plant and applied a little goo to my bruised ankle, which he wrapped in large leaves.
Without a word, he laid down and fell asleep beside me. I poked him. He snored. I could’ve run. Not far on a hurt ankle, but I could’ve escaped. Exhausted from the heat, I used his naked body as a pillow and closed my eyes.
When I woke, my wrists were tied again.
The next few days, it became apparent that I was Brute’s… something. It was as if he was courting me.
Brute was my name for the savage.
“Me. Jayne. You. Brute,” I’d joke because he’d never said another word to me.
Again, he ate like an animal.
Seated by the fire, his massive body crouched low, muscles flexing with every move, he tore into the dried meat with his teeth, no utensils, no manners, just primal need.
I sat opposite him, pretending not to watch him, as my stomach rumbled, but I was studying his every motion like my life depended on it.
Because maybe it did.
He didn’t look at me much. But when he did… God. It was like I’d stepped into the path of a predator mid-hunt.
Firelight danced across his dirt-smeared skin, glinting off sweat and scars I hadn’t noticed before.
His hair hung in wild ropes around his face, casting jagged shadows on his sharp cheekbones and squared jaw.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. Just chewed slowly, like he was thinking. About what, I couldn’t say.
My stomach growled loudly, but I didn’t ask for food.
I didn’t want to owe him anything.
After he finished eating, he licked the salt from his fingers. One by one. Watching me now. Eyes low. Hungry again, but not for food.
Then, without shame, he leaned back on his elbows, spread his legs, and wrapped his giant hand around his cock.
I went still.
The air shifted. Turned hot, dangerous. Something ancient stirred in my gut.
Brute didn’t make a sound. His hand moved in a slow, steady rhythm. Not just stroking, claiming. His blue eyes stayed fixed on me like he wanted me to see. Wanted me to understand. This was what he’d do to me, when he decided to take it further. This was a preview. A warning. Or a promise.
He was massive. Thicker than any man I’d ever been with. Veins tracked his shaft like roots, disappearing under the hand working him with terrifying purpose. Every time his fist met the swollen tip, he exhaled through his nose, deep and heavy.
My pulse thundered in my ears.
I wanted to look away.
I didn’t.
Was this supposed to scare me? Intimidate me? It worked.
But a traitorous heat bloomed low in my belly all the same.
Brute never touched himself fast, never seemed desperate. He stroked himself like a man with all the time in the world, like he was imagining something— someone —specific. Me. My mind whispered it even as I told myself no.
When he came, he didn’t warn me.
A low grunt escaped him as thick ropes of come spilled across his stomach. He leaned his head back and groaned softly, the sound like distant thunder.
Then his eyes snapped open, sharp, unblinking. Still on me.
He didn’t clean himself.
He didn’t speak.
He just let his cock go soft and lay there, basking in the afterglow with the same ease he'd devoured his food.
I wasn’t afraid he’d come over now.
I was afraid of what would happen if I fell asleep before him.
He didn’t say a word.
Just rolled onto his side by the fire, closed his eyes like nothing had happened, and started snoring softly within minutes, completely unbothered, completely at peace.
I, on the other hand, was a fucking mess.
Every sound outside the cave, every rustle of leaves, every distant animal cry, felt sharper. Closer. More threatening.
But it wasn’t the jungle keeping me awake.
It was him.
Lying just feet away, that mountain of a man, glowing with sweat and semen in the dying light of the fire, radiated heat and something more dangerous than body warmth— power. Raw, unchecked, absolute power. He could’ve done anything to me. Still could.
And he knew it.
I stared at him for hours, watching the rise and fall of his bare chest, flinching every time he stirred or grunted in his sleep. My wrists burned from the rope. My mind spun in circles, fear and arousal tangling so tight I couldn’t tell one from the other anymore.
What would he do if I slept?
Touch me?
Take me?
Kill me?
I didn’t want to find out.
So I didn’t sleep.
Not a single goddamn second.
At some point, my body gave up.
I didn’t mean to sleep, just meant to rest my eyes. But the next thing I knew, I was floating, my head against soft moss, the night sounds quieted to a hum. And he was there.
Brute.
But not as he was in the cave.
In the dream, he was clean. His hair, still long, fell loose like silk down his bare chest. His eyes glowed in the dark, and he moved toward me slowly, reverently, like I was some sacred offering he couldn’t wait to desecrate.
He didn’t tie me up this time.
He knelt between my thighs and kissed the inside of my knees. Licked the sweat from my belly. His fingers brushed over my nipples and made me gasp. Gasp loud enough I startled myself awake.
My wrists ached.
My chest rose and fell in quick, shallow bursts.
And my thighs…
Wet.
I was fucking soaked.
I lay there, horrified and humiliated, pressing my legs together to stifle the heat still burning between them. I turned my head. He was still sleeping, unmoving, his body bathed in early morning shadows.
But even asleep, he looked like he knew.
And I hated the part of me that hoped he did.
While he left for the day, I stayed in the cool cave. I felt safer than out in the open in an African jungle. Every time I stepped out past his camp, I saw a reason to stay inside, like a giant fluorescent bug or weird, scary reptile.
When the savage returned, he escorted me outside to relieve myself.
I was starting to think he had some weird fetish of listening to me pee, when a poisonous-looking snake slithered right over my polished red toenails.
I screamed bloody murder. Brute caught it with his bare hands, conked its head with a rock.
I thanked him profusely. Maybe the big guy just knew how dangerous the jungle was.
When we made it back to the cave, he pulled on the ropes on my wrists and untied them again.
Maybe he was convinced I wouldn’t leave the cave without him.
He skinned the snake and roasted it over the fire.
When he offered it, I felt it’d be rude of me to refuse.
Snake tasted divine, like a skinny chicken from what I could remember from the days before I was vegan.
I could scarcely believe I was eating meat, but what choice did I have?
After that, Brute became a steady guy. Every day he’d hunt, come back, and cook over the fire, feed me some roasted monkey or something.
He knew how to bring home the bacon and then some.
He’d always bring a pot of water for us to drink and sometimes to bathe in.
He even brought me exotic flowers and small gifts like rocks and bones.
Days blurred. I didn’t know if it was Tuesday or Thursday, or if it even mattered anymore.
I was sunburned in weird places and couldn’t remember how long it had been since I’d heard another voice, other than my own.
My phone was gone. My sense of time, gone.
Some mornings I woke up wondering if I was dreaming all of this.
If Brute was a figment of my own pathetic brain trying to give me what Chris never would.
I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face once darkness fell and the fire went out. Every night he’d stroke his massive erection and then let me cuddle next to him for warmth, for safety.
With the alternative being a tiger eating me or fighting with Chris, who never wanted to commit, I was okay. I was alive. And Brute was committed.