Caveman (Wild Men 1)

I laugh and throw my arms around his neck to kiss him properly. There’s that tiny flinch like every time I touch his scars, but he’s working on it, and he relaxes again.

I open my mouth to ask if he’s okay, and his tongue thrusts into my mouth. It strokes and licks at me, until I have to close my eyes and surrender to his kiss.

When I finally resurface for air some time later, he’s breathless like me, his cheekbones flushed, and his hard-on hot where it’s trapped between us.

“I want you,” I gasp. “I want you right here.”

“Naughty,” he pants, grinning again. It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful. And oh so sexy. “I wanna do it my way.”

I smile. “You just get off looking at my new tattoo, don’t you?”

“Hell yeah.” He grabs the hem of my blouse and pulls it up, over my head, and I lift my arms to aid him. His eyes darken when my bra is revealed, a black triangle bikini top. He growls softly and puts his hands over my breasts, then nips at my mouth again as his thumbs flick over my stiffening nipples over the soft cloth.

A second later he’s undoing my pants and pushing them down my legs, along with my black panties. I toe off my sandals, and I’m left only in my bra, squirming under his hot scrutiny.

“So pretty,” he breathes and pulls me to him, his hands smoothing down my sides, down the back to grip my ass. “Smoking hot.”

I don’t fight it when he turns me around in his arms to face the wall. I splay my hands on its surface willingly, bending over slightly. I glance at him over my shoulder. “Like this?”

“Yeah. Oh fuck…” His hands stroke my upper back where his tattoo now spreads, having my deathmoth as a centerpiece. “My girl.”

“Yours,” I whisper and shudder when his hands travel down my back to my ass and then lower, spreading me. “God, Zane…”

“Just Zane is fine,” he says, predictably, and then buries his fingers in me, making my back bow and drawing moans from my throat. “So wet. Oh Christ…You’re ready for me.”

I am, more than ready. I’ve been waiting for his touch all day. “Please, Zane.”

I hear his zipper, and then he’s nudging my entrance, slowly slipping into me. He grips my hips as he slides in deeper, and I shake with the pleasure of it. Nothing compares to Zane’s cock inside me, the feel of him.

His voice, hoarse with arousal, saying my name.

The pleasure spreads like liquid fire, licking my spine, rising up to my breasts, and I come with a cry, rocking on his hard-on. His hand slams on the wall by my head, his colorful tats swirling in my hazy vision.

I’m vaguely aware that he’s drawing out of me, still fully hard. His hands turn me around and tug me in, so that I’m flush against him, pressed to the front of his body.

“I’ve seen enough of your tattoo,” he growls. “Now I want to see your face. Your way.” He kisses me, long and deep. “I love all your ways.”

He pulls me to the sofa and sits, dragging me onto his lap. When he enters me again, it’s even more intense than before, his cock stroking me deep. He unties my bikini top and throws it off me, then bends to suck on my breasts. I’m already clenching again around him, squeezing him so hard he gasps. He licks my nipples, and I clench again, moving, riding his cock.

“Oh fuck.” His head falls back. He leans into the cushions, his hips thrusting upward. His face is flushed, his eyes closed, dark lashes shadowing his cheekbones, his beautiful lips parted. Breathtaking.

My orgasm takes me by surprise, slamming into me, forcing a keening moan from my lips. My eyes are closing, but I manage to keep them open, to see him as he comes.

His head falls back all the way, his neck arching, and he pulses inside me. “Dakota,” he whispers, and I’m lost, riding on the wave of pleasure that shakes my body. I crash on his chest, and we hold on to each other as the final tremors fade.

“I love you,” he says. “God, I…”

His eyes widen, and I look over my shoulder to see what he’s seeing.

There’s a full-length mirror on the wall behind me, and in it I see the tattoo Zane inked on my back, in its full glory.

Two dark wings, folding so they brush the small of my back, each feather perfectly drawn and inked into my skin. Between my shoulder blades is a charm, a spider web, and the deathmoth is caught in it. A fear-catcher, Zane called it when he first showed me the drawing.

I’ll give you wings, so you can fly.

And he did. As I twist to see better, the wings seem to shiver and move, ready to unfold. They’re magnificent. And of course, below the spider web…

“You had to sign it, didn’t you?” His name is there in big letters between the wings, artfully woven in the design. I turn back to Zane and give him a mock glare.