Chapter 6
T he days ran together, but Brute changed it up. Hauling me out of the cave one morning, he carried me to a small stream to bathe.
Getting on my knees, I splashed my face in the running water. “Turn around,” I told him as I hiked up my dress to wash my privates.
Brute’s back appeared. The big guy had grown quite respectful since the first night. I was beginning to think he understood I didn’t plan to sleep with him.
Oh, how I was wrong…
The heat messed with my head. Sometimes, in the curve of Brute’s jaw or the glint of his eyes, I saw Chris.
For a heartbeat, my brain couldn’t tell the difference.
Like some sick joke, I imagined Chris holding me instead.
But then Brute would grunt or move with that brutal power, and the illusion would vanish, leaving shame in its place.
Why was I seeing Chris in the man who actually wanted me?
When dressing, my bum ankle caused me to tumble.
Brute materialized, catching me in his strong arms and laying me down beneath him in the grass.
Hugging his thick neck, I thanked him. He drew back, revealing a broad smile on his dirty face.
His eyebrow arched. For a second, I saw something more than a savage.
Damn , Brute was unbearably handsome. And thoughtful to boot. I admit, I swooned.
Leaning down, he did the unimaginable. His lips grazed mine.
I responded, opening my mouth. Brute kissed me, full on the mouth, his tongue sweeping against mine.
Dipping deep, his kiss made my heart race.
He ended the kiss quickly, like he’d been trying it out, and decided he didn’t like it.
Nevertheless, his brief kiss added fuel to my fire below.
I couldn’t help myself. I felt for his ever-present erection. My fingers rubbed the fleshy head of his cock. That was all the invitation he needed. He went straight for my panties. His eager gaze dared me to grumble as he tore them away.
Gasping, I thought about telling him to slow down.
But it was no use. He twisted my legs apart with his massive claws.
His dreadlock-covered head plunged. Snarling, his mouth went to my pussy like it was a big hunk of meat.
Brute was starved. Almost violently, he frenched the mouth of my sex as no man had ever before, drinking from me as if I were a coconut.
I had no complaints.
For a savage, he sure could eat pussy. His tongue swept up to my clit, giving it a tickle to rival anything in my nightstand at home. Then it ran down my slit and further back, wiggling into my puckered hole.
“Oh, my,” I pipped, suddenly feeling hotter than ever.
Rough hands heaved my ass cheeks apart, and he tongued my asshole, practically making me come.
My other parts got jealous as tendrils of goodness ran up my belly and spine.
My breasts longed for him to touch them.
I could feel my face flush with need. Then Brute surprised me even more.
While his tongue worked my clit again, he stuck his whole index finger in my butt.
What the hell? Ah. Oh.
I’d never had any play back there before. Brute pumped his finger once, and my pussy clenched, feeling empty. I came instantly, blathering as I did.
Brute didn’t care that I felt like a puddle of goo or that I needed time to recover.
His sticky body covered the length of mine, and his giant dick pressed hard against my swollen pussy lips.
My eyes fluttered as he scraped his girth back and forth along my sex to get to the right spot.
His gorgeous but grimy face loomed over me.
His expression became primal, famished for me.
Not knowing if I was ready to go all the way, I clawed him with my manicured red nails. “Get off you big Brute,” I tried.
But did he understand?
He grunted, clearly enjoying the resistance, but my cries eventually stopped him. As he removed himself, his wild eyes questioned me. He laid down beside me, breathing hard.
“Come,” he grumbled, his blue eyes piercing mine.
“Come? As in cum ?” I laughed.
“Come?” He spoke again but as a question, like did I want to come? Or perhaps he was asking if I came.
“Look, I really enjoyed what you did there,” I purred. “You made me come, all right. Thanks.”
“Come,” he sang again, leading my hand back to his erection.
Squeezing his massive cock, my pussy recovered and grew jealous of my hand.
Fluttering my eyes, I smiled at him, thinking about giving into the big brute.
“Come?” He hummed again.
Caught up in the moment, I weighed my response. I’d been faithful to Chris during our breaks. In ten years, I hadn’t let another man touch me until what Brute had done moments ago.
I wanted more. No. I needed more. But I wasn’t sure.
Brute mounted me again, his big dick poking me in question. It was clear, he wasn’t done trying.
“Come?” he huffed.
My whole body tingled for him, but I dreaded it. The size of him. The savage nature. Would he be a gentle lover? I doubted it. As I pondered this, my answer to his one-word question, come, the savage instantly thrusted his big dick forward, inside me, taking my breath with it.
I dug my nails into his shoulders as the rush surprised me.
The pain from him stretching me, mixed with unromanced pleasure, dampened my eyes as I hollered out.
I ran my nails down his back, scratching, half fighting, half surrendering to the inevitable.
Then Brute heaved in further, proving it possible.
My stomach felt sick but in a good way. Somehow, he’d touched a hidden place, somewhere no one had before.
I’d never felt so complete, so vulnerable, so taken.
Was it against my will? Or was he making up my mind. I couldn’t think straight.
Just like Brute didn’t wait for me to consent, he didn’t wait for me to adjust to his hefty cock. Taking my knees with his dirty hands, he drove them up, spreading my pelvis wider and went full force, dragging his cock out of my tight sleeve and crashing it back into me.
He was no gentle lover. He was a wild man, grunting and using me for his pleasure.
As one of my nails broke, I realized I had no control.
And the thought coupled with the sensation was maddening and satisfying all at once.
As the sweltering sun beat down, our labored breathing and the swimming noises of our sexual liquid were all that could be heard.
On my end, nothing had ever felt so perverse and grand simultaneously.
Grunting in my ear, Brute practically buried me in the ground beneath us.
When I came again, I cried, not because I’d felt desecrated and used.
I did feel those things. But the act had been so nourishing as well.
I’d thoroughly adored it, like a fine wine or a delicious meal.
Besides, it was the perfect fuck you to Chris for walking out of my life.
Brute roared when he came, sounding like Tarzan himself.
Damn , it was perfect.