When we made it back to the cave, he pulled on the ropes on my wrists and untied them again. Maybe he was convinced Iwouldn’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.
6
The 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, Ithanked 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 histongue 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 incum?” I laughed.
“Come?” He spoke again but as a question, like did I want to come? Or perhaps he was asking if I came.
