Uncivilized

  I quickly search the room with my eyes, and I find him sitting in a plush chair upholstered in royal blue and gold silk. He's slouched in it, his long legs stretched out before him. One hand rests on his thigh; the other has his elbow purchased on the armrest and his chin resting thoughtfully in his palm. His eyes are dark and hooded as he stares at me.

  "You didn't come down for dinner," I say softly.

  He doesn't respond but just continues to let his eyes penetrate me, although they're nearly devoid of any emotion.

  I close the door softly behind me and take unsteady steps across the room until I'm standing before him. His eyes rise up to look at me, but still he remains silent.

  "Are you okay? Randall told me all about your trip to your house today."

  Zach's lips flatten, and his eyes look almost dead to me. "Did he tell you what happened there?"

  "Only that you had a memory... that you didn't want to go to the Amazon with your parents."

  Zach gives a disdainful laugh as he looks up at me. "It was so much more than that. I repetitively begged my parents not to take me. I didn't want to leave my home... my friends. I wanted a fucking dog and to stay with Uncle Randall, but I had no choice in the matter."

  My heart bleeds over the pain and anger in his voice. It is shredded by the fact that Zach was never given the choice to stay here. Just as he was never given a choice to stay back in Caraica when I came for him.

  "I'm sorry, Zach. It was unfair to you that you had no control," I tell him softly.

  He regards me for a moment, weighing the empathy in my voice. Placing both of his hands on the armrests of the chair, he surges upward onto his feet, now towering majestically over me.

  "It's funny," he murmurs as he gazes down at me, his eyes warming slightly.

  "What's that?" I whisper.

  "That you should use the word 'control'. You... of all people, know the significance of what that means to me. The need to have it."

  "I understand you well," I tell him simply. "Even better now."

  Zach reaches a hand out and gently strokes my cheek. His eyes stray down to where he's touching me, contemplating my admission.

  When he raises his gaze back to mine, gone is the slight hint of warmth and in its place is concrete hardness.

  His hand falls away from my face. "Take your clothes off," he demands. His voice is low but commanding, sending shivers up my spine.

  The modern woman in me wants to balk because I know where this is going. Zach is feeling out of control, and he wants to gain it back. The best way he knows how is by forcing my complete surrender. To prove he is the same as he ever was.

  But there is a different woman inside of me as well. One that has come to appreciate that there is complete freedom in submission. The freedom comes from not having any choices to make, and to trust that Zach will do right by me. That woman... the one who has already gone wet between her legs the minute he told me to take off my clothes... that is the woman that is stepping up to the plate right now.

  That woman... she's the one that wants to make Zach feel better, by giving in to what he demands, and making sure he understands that I've come to crave his uncivilized nature.

  Without a second thought, I reach down to the hem of my blouse and lift it up. When it clears my head, I drop it to the floor and immediately unzip my skirt, letting it flutter its way down my legs. I step out of it by taking a small step away from Zach.

  His eyes glitter and his nostrils flare as he takes in my simple white bra and panties. I stand there, waiting for his next order.

  "All of it," he growls.

  My bra snaps in the front, so I give a quick flick at the clasp in the center of my chest, roll my shoulders, and let gravity take it from my body. Hooking my thumbs under the waistband of my panties, I shimmy them down my legs and step out of them as well... again, taking one more step back from Zach.

  His gaze penetrates mine briefly before his eyes leisurely slide down my body. I wait for his next command, my skin tingling in anticipation of what he'll do to me. A kiss? A touch? I'll take anything he wants to give me. I'll die if he doesn't give me something.

  Zach takes one long-legged stride toward me, curling his hand behind my neck. With measured force, he turns me around and pushes me down to the ground. My breath catches in my throat as he guides me to the floor, first to my knees, then all the way down until my cheek is touching the soft carpeting. His own knees hit behind me with a small thud, and he exhales loudly.

  While pinning me with his hand around my neck, I hear the unmistakable sound of his zipper lowering and I close my eyes, imagining the way in which he's deftly freeing his stiff cock.

  Then he's pushing at my entrance, which is slick with need, yet tight with anticipation. He works his way inside just a fraction of an inch and stills. Another deep breath in and he releases it slowly, fanning out across my back.

  I wait... I wait for him to come all the way inside, but he doesn't make another move. I open my eyes, but I can't see anything but the dust ruffle on his bed. I don't dare move my body because this is Zach's command, and he needs to take what makes him feel best at this very moment.

  Slam.

  He thrusts into me in one violent move and my muscles stretch with a burning pain from his invasion, then immediately settle in around his cock in a sigh of pleasure. A gasp tears out of my mouth, and I bite down on my lower lip.

  I expect him to start fucking me hard but he merely pulls back slowly, only to fill me back up with an equal pace. He moves in and out of me with a calmness that feels out of character to the intensity of the way we've fucked before, and I'm immediately reminded of how he took Tukaba in the dirt back in Caraica.

  Without feeling.

  Without emotion.

  Only with steely calm on a path to give himself release.

  While I can't deny that what he's doing feels good, it also feels wrong.

  It feels lacking.

  I want more because he's shown me that he has more to give, and while I don't mind submitting to Zach's lust, I need to know I'm more than an empty hole within which to pour himself.

  Zach is utterly quiet as he moves in and out of me. No moans to let me know he finds me pleasing. No quickening of his breath to prove that I am desirable.

  Just a slow, quiet movement of his body within mine that I find to be numbing to my senses.

  My eyes fill with tears as I realize I can't have this type of sexual relationship with Zach. It's wholly devoid of the intimacy that I apparently need and crave.

  My palms flatten on the carpet and I'm about to push up to tell him to stop, when suddenly Zach yells out, "Fuck," as he tears himself away from my body.

  I immediately push up and look over my shoulder. Zach is sprawled on the floor... sitting on his butt with his knees raised and his palms supporting his weight at his hips.

  His eyes are bleak, and his chest is heaving. "I'm sorry," he says in self-directed hatred.

  I'm frozen in place as I watch misery overwhelm him.

  "I'm sorry," he repeats quietly, and his eyes drop from mine. "I shouldn't have done that."

  My body finally reacts, and I turn to crawl my way toward him. I crawl right in between his legs and push up onto my knees so I can take his face in my hands. Leaning in slightly, I graze my lips over his, and then kiss his cheek, then his forehead.

  "It's okay," I assure him.

  When I pull back, his gaze comes back up to mine tentatively. In a voice so soft, I almost don't hear him, he says, "I don't know who I am anymore."

  My heart constricts painfully for this beautiful man that seems so lost. I turn my body and sit myself on his lap, winding my arms around his neck and placing my face in the crook of his neck. I'm relieved when his arms immediately wrap around my waist, and he squeezes me in response.

  "You are Zacharias Easton," I tell him in a soothing voice. "You are a boy who was taken from his home. You are a man who was taken from his life. They are both a part of w
ho you are. But please don't ever forget, my beautiful man... that you have the opportunity now to be whoever you want to be. That will always be solely in your control."

  I feel Zach's lungs expand with a deep breath, and he lets it out softly. I can feel his erection burning my skin, and I want this lost man back inside of me again. Lifting my head slightly, I bring my lips to his neck, giving him a soft kiss. A tremor runs through his body and his arms squeeze me tighter. I open my mouth, touch my tongue to his skin, and then suck gently for a moment before scraping my teeth along the path.

  Zach growls low in his throat and rolls to the side. His hands come under my legs to support me and he pushes himself off the floor, standing in one powerful move. Carrying me to his bed, he lays me in the center.

  I watch shamelessly as he discards his clothes, his muscles rippling with every move he makes. His eyes never leave mine, burning with need, and my blood sets to a slow boil as he crawls onto the bed, right in between my legs.

  He is absolute perfection as he sits back on his haunches, his erection sticking up straight with bold confidence. His blue eyes sear into me, and I itch to run my hands along his body.

  Zach gently pushes my legs apart. He slides his hands slowly up my legs, over my hips... my ribs, straight to my breasts, where he squeezes them gently. A soft moan flutters over my lips, and Zach smiles in response.

  Leaning his body over me, he brings his mouth to mine and gives me the sweetest of kisses, lightly grazing my teeth with his tongue. Then he kisses me deeper... then deeper yet. My hands come up to his chest, and I tweak at his nipples. He rewards me with a groan and thrusts his tongue hard against mine, followed by a harsh pant that I suck greedily into my mouth.

  When Zach finally pulls his face away from mine, he braces his hands on the mattress and looks down at me intently. "I think I just learned something important."

  "What's that?" I ask as I run my hands down the contoured muscles of his arms.

  "There was never any emotion when I fucked women in Caraica. I only focused on how it felt to me physically."

  "And that's different now?"

  "It's different with you," he admits. "Just a few moments ago... I was trying to fuck you like I'd fuck a Caraican woman. Absolute control, zero emotion. I was trying to prove to myself that I'm in control of my life."

  "You are in control," I assure him as my fingers glide up to stroke his face.

  "Not with you," he murmurs. "Not totally."

  "Zach... I have no problem at all with surrendering my will to you when we are intimate. You can put me on bended knee time and time again, and I'll love it. But only if you don't hold back. You have to promise to never hold yourself back from me. As a modern woman... it's something I need. I can't keep emotion out of this."

  His eyes go soft, and he smiles gently as he nods in understanding. "Duly noted."

  Zach brings one hand to my breast and pinches my nipple. "But just because we're having this conversation about feelings and emotion doesn't mean that I'm not going to fuck you so hard right now that you'll feel it for an eternity. I'm going to make you a slave to my cock. You may walk away a little bruised and a whole lot sore when we're done, but you'll be begging me to do it all over again to you. I promise you that."

  My eyes go wide at the aggressive tone in his voice, and my body practically melts underneath him. "There's my uncivilized man," I whisper.

  Yeah... I'm sore. After Zach threw my legs up over his shoulders, proceeded to pound my body with brute force, and after he made me come twice that way, he flipped me over and continued on. Any time he got close to coming, he'd slow down, sometimes pulling all the way out of me, and just caress and kiss my body. It was torture, but only for a while before he'd slam back home.

  Yes... he enslaved my body.

  And he held nothing back.

  He moaned, grunted, and cursed over the pleasure he was feeling. Digging his fingers into my flesh, he lashed at me with his tongue. He spoke filthy words to me, courtesy of Google, and it turned me on even more.

  When he finally came, he did it with a roar that practically shook the rafters before collapsing on top of me. I was afraid Randall would come barging into the room. Thankfully, I think his room is in another wing of the house.

  Zach rolls off me to lie on his back. His breathing is harsh, and his skin moist with sweat. I don't hesitate for a second, but slide my body next to his and lay my head on his shoulder. He doesn't move or touch me in any way, and I listen for a while as his breathing finally comes back under control.

  Bringing my hand over, I lay it on his chest and softly caress the hard muscles there. I can feel them leap to my touch.

  "Do men and women only sleep together in the same bed after they're married? I remember my parents slept in the same bed together," Zach asks me.

  I smile to myself and sit upward so I can look down at Zach. Balancing one hand on his chest, I tell him, "No, you don't have to be married to do that. Why do you ask?"

  Zach shrugs his shoulders. "Just wondering. We've never done that before."

  "Do you want to sleep together? Do you want me to stay here with you tonight?"

  Reaching over his body, Zach grabs my hand and moves it down his body until my fingers nudge his cock. He's completely soft yet still amazingly large, his skin still slightly moist. Pushing on my fingers, he urges me to take him in hand, and I never think once about denying him.

  I stroke him softly and he makes a low, humming sound in his throat, his cock pulsing against my palm.

  "I think it's best you stay here tonight," he says with a sly grin on his face. "I don't think I'm finished with you yet."

  God, I hope he's never finished with me.

  Chapter 17

  Zach

  I sit at the back of the boat as Clint motors across the lake water. My eyes dart between Moira to my left, and Cara to my right. I compare the two ladies because I find it fascinating that I'm in the company of two equally beautiful women, yet only one really appeals to me.

  What is it about Moira that sets her apart?

  Is it the fact I know her body intimately? Is it because she's knows me better than Cara does?

  Or is it because she lets me dominate her and that appeals to my inherent need for control?

  I don't think that's it... not totally anyway, because I'm finding the concept of control is subjective.

  For example, Cara is quite lovely. She's wearing a hot pink bikini that's not much more than a few triangles of shimmery material that barely covers her breasts and pussy. Her long, blonde hair is loose and blowing in the wind. Her lips are full, and I'm betting she would give an amazing blow job.

  But she doesn't have much going on in the brains department. She only seems to want to talk about herself and what nail polish would go best with her tan. I had to suppress a laugh when Cara swung a long leg across, placed her foot on my thigh, and asked me what I thought about the color of her toenails.

  Like I could give a shit.

  Moira just rolled her eyes and turned her gaze out over the water.

  While Cara is almost completely naked, Moira is wearing a T-shirt over her bathing suit and a pair of denim shorts. I do notice that her toenails are painted a pale pink and it makes me want to worship her feet, which just goes to show you... maybe the color does make a difference.

  Clint slows the boat until its idling and turns to face us. "Okay, Moira. It's your turn. Are you ready?"

  Moira stands up from her seat and gives a gaming smile. "Sure. I told you I pretty much suck at water skiing, but I'll give it a go."

  We've all had a turn so far. Cara and Clint are quite good, but I learned that they pretty much spend much of their summers on the water, drinking beers and wine coolers and soaking up the sun. Rough life, for sure.

  I did amazingly well when it was my turn. It was exhilarating to get pulled behind the boat with the wind whipping at me and the spray of the water keeping me cool. According to Cara, who made a point to p
ut her hand on my bicep after I got back in the boat, I'm good at skiing because my upper arms are so strong.

  Moira rolled her eyes at that too and even snorted, which caused Cara to narrow her eyes and glare at her.

  It's hard to avert my gaze when Moira pulls her T-shirt over her head, revealing a much more modest bathing suit top in black, her breasts--which are smaller than Cara's--are adequately covered. I'm pleased by this because I haven't failed to notice the way Clint watches Moira. She shimmies out of her shorts, revealing black bottoms that cover her ass nicely, with delicate straps that rest over her hipbones.

  Fuck, did I pay a lot of attention to her hipbones last night between my tongue and my fingers digging in there. I'm surprised she's not bruised.

  Clint helps Moira into the life vest, and I want to growl in frustration as he fastens the straps across the front. But there's nothing I can do because Moira doesn't want anyone to know that we're fucking each other. And by the way I want to pummel Clint into the boat deck because of the way he's standing too close to her, it would be obvious that we're fucking if I were to do that.

  Cara stands up from her seat and says, "I'll drive this time."

  While Cara gets behind the wheel, Clint helps Moira with her skis and getting into the water. I turn in my seat to watch her, noting the determination on her face as she takes hold of the rope, the tips of her skis bobbing out of the water in front of her.

  Her eyes cut to mine, and I give her an encouraging smile. She rewards me with a quick grin that is so bright that it actually tightens my stomach in longing to see it again. Yes, that smile is definitely something that sets Moira apart.

  Cara looks over her shoulder and calls out. "Is she ready?"

  Moira nods and yells, "Giddy-up."

  The engine revs as Cara starts it forward with smooth speed, and I watch as Moira easily lifts up out of the water. She gets all the way up with no issues, her gaze focused on the boat.

  Cara increases the speed a bit, and Clint yells out, "You're doing great. Bend your knees a bit more."

  Moira does as directed, and she looks steady. A slow smile comes across her face and I just sit there, enjoying the beauty of my lover as she skims across the water.

  I know Moira won't have the upper arm strength to stay up long, and I'm actually itching for another chance to get back out there. This is one of the most fun things I've done since I've come to the States... exclusive of the time I'm sunk deep inside of Moira.