A Gentleman Caveman by Alex L. Michaels

Author:Alex L. Michaels [Michaels, Alex L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2024-03-01T18:30:00+00:00

***

I didn't know how long I slept. Not long. I could see the moon high in the sky through the open window and the stars twinkling around it. A car was speeding in the distant hills, but other than that, the world was silent.

I straightened up, frowning when my aching muscles reminded me that I should be more careful with moving and such. A strange, uncomfortable feeling on my skin made me look down at my body, which was covered with dried stains.

I whined internally. Clearly, he was crazy. And I was crazy for going along for the ride.

I dared to look at him. He seemed deep asleep except for his erection, which lay heavy on his stomach. That man! Was there ever a time in the day or night when he wasn’t hard? He behaved as if he spent twenty years in prison, and now he was starved for sex, which clearly wasn't the case. It was mind-boggling.

Once in the shower, I let the water run down my aching body, suppressing a moan of pleasure. Or pain. My bones felt as if they were broken into a million places and then glued back together. My lips felt swollen, and my vagina... I pressed my fingers against the tender flesh and winced in pain.

When the shower door opened, I couldn't help but flinch. A wall of muscles came into view, and then a raging erection. I swallowed with difficulty as my eyes found his sleepy ones. He stepped into the shower and pulled me into a hug with a desperation that left me stunned. His heart was hammering in his chest so hard that I could almost hear it.

“I thought you left me,” he muttered, cupping my face, and making me look at him. The strange look in his eyes made me shudder.

“Don’t do it again. Don’t leave me, so I don’t know where you are. Never again.”

I blinked, more from shock than from the water in my eyes.

“Nod or give me some sign that you understand.”

“Ok-kay.”

His expression softened, and he kissed my forehead, then my cheek, my other cheek, and my nose.

“Let me wash you.”

He used the soap to wash away the remaining semen from my body, smiling at my flushed cheeks. He washed my arms, my breasts, my belly, my thighs. When his hand slipped between my legs, I caught it, stopping it just in time.

“I’m sore.”

His smile was wicked.

“I’ll kiss it better.”

When he turned so I could wash his back, I gasped. Countless scratches marred the otherwise perfect skin. Some looked older, like on his back, while the ones on his ass looked fresh, as if my nails had drawn them not so long ago.

“Oh, my God, Lawrence. I’m so sorry.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry about it.”

It was easy to pretend nothing happened until I saw the proof with my own eyes. Again, I felt the fear tugging at my heart. It was the same fear I nourished and fed for years, until it killed a part of me and smothered it into non-existence.

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