Uncivilized (Uncivilized 1)

"Let me tell you about the last man I killed," I tell her softly.

"No... I don't want to hear it," she says, trying to pull from my hold.

"You'll listen," I command with another squeeze and pull her in to me just a little closer. Her breasts lightly touch my chest, and a surge of longing courses through me. I put it aside though, at least until Moira understands my lack of civility. "About a month before you arrived in Caraica to collect me, the men in my tribe made a raid on the Matica. It was a rescue-revenge raid. One day when we were away on a hunt, ten of the Matica snuck into our village. They raped some of our women and stole three of our male children, killing the boys' mother, who was trying to protect the young ones with her life."

"I don't want to hear this, Zach," Moira says.

"Maybe not, but you need to hear it. We planned our revenge carefully. It wasn't just to retrieve what they had stolen from us, but it was to punish them for their assault on our women and children. We went in with the idea of killing in return."

"That's wrong," Moira says, her eyes wide.

"Maybe by your standards, but by ours, it was the right thing to do. In the end, we not only got our children back, but we paid them back tenfold for the lives they took from us. I watched with pride as my adoptive brother, Kaurlo, retrieved his stolen sons and killed the men that took them and killed his wife."

Moira shudders in my arms, but I see a tiny bit of understanding now in her eyes.

Leaning forward to whisper in her ear, I ask, "Want to know who I killed?"

She gives a tiny shake of her head, but it doesn't stop me.

"When I walked into the village, I found Tukaba staked out in the dirt by her hands and feet. She was naked and had blood all over her thighs from the repeated rapes she had endured. She was stolen from her Paourno tribe where she had been raised. She was half dead when I cut her loose, but she was strong enough to let me carry her down the line of captured Matica. We had sat them in the dirt in front of a longhouse, their hands tied behind their backs. She identified the men that raped her. My tribe brothers and I unloaded all of our arrows into them until they were dead, and Tukaba was avenged as well."

A tiny tear leaks out of one of Moira's eyes, but I also see something new on her face. Compassion for what I told her about Tukaba which I hope means some acceptance of my deeds.

"Sometimes I forget how very different your existence is from mine," Moira says with a soft voice. "You've acclimated here so well, that I forget how hard it must be for you to live a life here while your entire character is built from those experiences."

Her words slam into me in a calming wave of validation because gone now is the censure and misunderstanding. She may not agree with my tribes' need for revenge and justice, or even my own personal need to assuage my anger of wrongdoings. But she understands at a very basic level that the way I led my life was perfectly normal... at least for me.

"I know you think me ignorant of your ways, Moira, but I'm not. I've seen enough--read enough--to know right from wrong in this culture. It doesn't mean that I'll abide by your right, though."

Moira nods, despite the way I'm still gripping her by her neck. "But promise me you won't do anything like that again. Please don't put yourself in jeopardy like that."

I give her a lethal smile, tempered with just a tiny bit of understanding for her plea, because although I understand her position, I can't agree to it. "I'll agree to nothing of the sort, Moira. I'll never let anyone... in particular, or a society in general... control my actions. It's one of the main reasons I want to return to my village... because I have absolute freedom to do as I wish."

Moira opens her mouth to argue against that, but I pull her in the rest of the way, until her entire body falls into mine. Leaning forward, I place my lips at her temple and graze them there briefly. In a low, rumbling voice, I tell her, "In fact, I would love to drag you back with me, so you'd be available to my whim whenever I wanted you. I'd never let you wear a stitch of clothing again, and your knees and your pussy would be so sore from the working I'd give them every day. But then I'd put my tongue back between your legs and soothe away every bit of the sting I had left behind."

A rush of breath pours out from Moira's mouth and fans across my collarbone, even as a tiny shiver courses through her body. She's as turned on by the image I just painted as I am by having created it.

I feel her body melting, her resistance only hanging on by a thread. I could have her about ten different ways to Sunday, but there is only one way in which I want her now. I press forward.

"Get on your knees," I demand, because I know that she wants me to force her at this point. It's what she wants, I'm sure of it.

"No," she whispers, and I smile on the inside. Her tone says otherwise.

I give her neck a soft squeeze again to remind her that she's standing here pushed up against me only because I demand it so.

"Don't ever say 'no' to me again," I growl at her. Using my grip on her neck, I pull her back from my body and turn her away from me. Giving a slight push, I urge her downward and almost want to cry out in victory when she gives me not an ounce of fight as she starts to lower herself.

I let my knees bend and lower myself down to the floor with her. Her knees hit first, then my mine, and I continue pushing her forward until her cheek rests against the carpet and her ass hovers just in front of my restrained cock.

"You remember the first time you saw me?" I whisper as I squeeze her neck again gently.

"Yes."

"It turned you on, didn't it?"

"Yes."

"You wanted me to fuck you that way, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"You want it now?"

"God yes," she moans, and victory and lust surge through me. My cock, which has been getting progressively harder, now pushes brutally rigid against the tight denim covering my crotch.

"Tell me then," I command her, completely enjoying the way her resolve is unraveling before me.

"Tell you what?" she asks on a stuttering breath.

"Tell me all about the first time you saw me. Tell me a story, sweet Moira, and then I'll decide whether to give you what you want."

Moira tells me then, in a rush of capitulated words, how she watched me across the firelight, fucking Tukaba and wishing it was her body underneath me. She tells me her blood was on fire, and she could scarcely breathe because the way I was staring at her was sucking the oxygen from her body. In a low moan, she tells me she could actually feel my cock between her legs and she whispers with no shame, only regret, that she could feel my orgasm as my body shuddered in release.

"That's a good story, Moira," I tell her, trying to keep my words confident and true, so she doesn't know just how close I am to losing control with her.

"It's how I remember it," she says with a burst of boldness and, even though I'm aiming for her surrender, I find I like that Moira isn't going down without at least a little fight in her.

"You wanted me then, didn't you?"

"Yes," she whispers softly.

"Just as you want me now?"

"Yes."

"Exactly the same way."

"Exactly the same," she says with assurance and I know, at this moment, she's mine.

I bring my free hand up and grasp the bottom of her dress, dragging it up the backs of her thighs and over the rounded firmness of her ass. Slowly, I reveal the loveliest, sexiest pair of white lace underwear I could have ever imagined on a woman. Another new favorite word enters my repertoire--lingerie.

When her ass and lower back are completely devoid of her dress, I tell her. "Before I give it to you, tell me one more thing."

"What do you want me to tell you?" she demands of me. I squeeze her neck because it's a little too impudent for my tastes right now. She pushes back against my hand slightly, and I tighten my grip more.

"I want you to tell me what the greatest thing is you've learned about me so far since you took me from my home."

Her upper back rises slightly, not from any fight left in her, but because she inhales deeply. When she lets it all out, she tells me with conviction and a hint of sadness, "I learned that you... Zacharias Easton... are an uncivilized man."

"Yes," I tell her in praise, and my fingers go under the lace edge of her panties. "You learned well."

Moira is silent for a moment, and then, "Zach?"

"Hmmm?"

"Teach me more," she whispers.

My heart seems to almost leap from my chest over the plaintive tone of her voice. Grasping the lace of her panties, I drag them over hips... her ass, and pull them down the backs of her thighs. "Oh, baby... I'm going to teach you how good it's going to feel to be fucked into submission by an uncivilized man."

She gives a soft moan of anticipation. When her panties are pushed down to the backs of her knees, I lean to the side so I can get a glimpse of the backside of her pussy. Its flowery petals are dewy looking. I reach down and, for the first time ever, push my finger inside of a woman's warmth.

Hot breath hisses out from between my clenched teeth. "You're so wet."

"Oh, God," Moira moans, pushing her hips backward.

"Don't move," I order her as I pull my finger back slightly and push it back in. She stays absolutely still but moans again.