Uncivilized (Uncivilized 1)

"I'll be your first," he says with triumph.

And my last, I vainly hope, but I know that's a pipe dream.

"What about last night?" he asks, his head tilted to the side. "Have you ever had a man put his finger up your ass like I did?"

Heat rushes through my body at the memory, and my pussy involuntarily clenches. "Never," I whisper.

Zach's eyes become possessive, and he lowers his face to mine. With his lips hovering just over me, he growls, "I can't wait to fuck your ass. It's going to be divine."

I gulp hard and nod, although I'm still terrified at the prospect because of how enormous he is. I'm afraid he'll shred me from the inside out, yet the thought of giving myself to him in that most intimate way appeals to me a great deal. I think I need to do some research on this and figure out how I can submit to his need without ending up in a hospital.

Smiling at my capitulation, Zach lowers his lips and grazes them against mine. Just as his mouth opens to give me a deep kiss, there's a knock on his bedroom door.

"Zach," I hear Randall call out. "I'm headed out to work in a bit and was wondering if you had a moment to talk."

My entire body seizes in terror at the prospect of Randall walking in this room. Zach does nothing more than lazily turn his head toward the door with an amused smile on his face.

I shove at Zach, pushing him off me while I scramble off the far side of the bed and whip the sheet off to cover my body. Panic races through me. Zach merely gets off the bed and calls back out, "Just a minute. I need to get dressed."

Pointing toward the bathroom door, Zach whispers, "Go."

I walk as quickly but as lightly as I can across the carpet, straight into his bathroom, where I shut the door halfway so I can hide behind it.

I can't see a thing, but I can hear Zach rustling around and the unmistakable sound of his zipper being pulled up. I'm wondering how he's going to hide that massive hard-on he was sporting, but then figure Randall showing up at his door probably killed it.

The door opens, and I hear Randall say jovially, "Good morning."

His voice is louder. Fuck... he's stepped into the room. Oh, fuck. Does it smell like sex? Had he heard us talking? My heart is pounding, and I immediately start praying for God to get me out of this mess. I start to promise that I'll leave Zach alone if he just makes Randall leave without me being caught, but then I halt myself. No way am I making that promise. I couldn't leave Zach alone if he was surrounded by a hundred green anacondas.

"So what's up?" Zach asks.

"Well, I was just wondering... how would you like to go into work with me today? See what I actually do for a living? I thought it might be of interest to you."

"Um," Zach hesitates, and I can almost envision the inner workings of his brain trying to figure out how to get out of this invitation. While his relationship with Randall has warmed up a bit, Zach is still reserved around the old man. "Well, okay... sure. Why not?"

"Excellent. I'll see you down at breakfast then," Randall says, and my heart rate starts to decelerate in relief.

But then he says, "I'll just pop over to Moira's room and see if she'd like to join us."

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. I'm so busted.

"She's not there," Zach says, and my heart about implodes. "I heard her leave a bit ago. I think she went out for a run."

A run? Since when do I run?

"Well, we can wait for her to get back," Randall says kindly. "I'll see you down at breakfast."

"About thirty minutes?" Zach asks.

"Splendid," I hear Randall respond, and then he's gone and the door is shutting.

I wait a good thirty seconds before I have the guts to leave the safety of the bathroom, the sheet still clutched desperately for protection to the front of my body.

I find Zach lying back on the bed, sprawled out with his hand between his legs. He tugs on his cock, which apparently had not waned in size or stiffness with Randall's visit. His eyes are hot as they laser on to me. "Drop the sheet."

My hands release the soft material, and it falls to the floor.

"Now, get over on this bed. I want to try sixty-nine with you."

"But, you need to get down to breakfast. I need to get back to my room and take a Valium or something. That scared the shit out of me."

"Get over here now, Moira. I'm not leaving this room until I eat you out and you swallow me whole."

Oh, God. My entire body quivers, and my feet move toward the bed under the sole power of his words.

When my thighs bump up against the side mattress, I automatically wait for Zach's command.

"Climb aboard," he says with a wicked grin. "I want you on top. I want you to set that beautiful pussy on my face, and I want you to go down on my cock."

I don't know what to say. I have nothing to say. Damn, he's adjusted a little too well to the sexual slang of the modern world. It robs me of the power of speech but not of the power of movement. I climb up onto the bed, turn my body, and lower myself onto his face as he demanded.

Then Zach proceeds to take me to the sun and back with his fingers and tongue, while I drink down every drop he gives me.

Chapter 19

Zach

One week slides into the next, and contrary to my initial misgivings about visiting with Randall, I'm actually enjoying my time here in Georgia. I've been extremely busy seeing all the sights. Moira has gone all out, introducing me to all of the marvels I would have never known about had I stayed back in Caraica.

She took me to see a professional baseball game, which was interesting, and I discovered the beauty and wonder of draft beer and hot dogs. We went to see a theater production of Les Miserables, which wasn't so fun, only because Clint and Cara came with us, and I had to fend of Cara for most of the night. She sat beside me and kept pressing toward me to talk during the performance, laying her hand on my knee when she would lean over or pushing her breasts against my arm. It wasn't all that unpleasant to have a soft woman's touch, except it wasn't who I wanted touching me. When I wasn't distracted by her advances, my eyes kept cutting over to Clint, who was leaning in a little too close to Moira for my comfort level. My fingers kept involuntarily curling inward toward my palms, and I had to rein in my desire to do violence to his overly tanned face.

My favorite thing we've done by far--that didn't involve fucking Moira--was when she took me to hear a guest lecture by a colleague of hers at Emory University. The subject was on uses of medicinal plants among the indigenous shamans of the Amazon, and I found it fascinating.

I also found it touching that Moira would take the time to let me have something of my culture and heritage while I was here. When the lecture was over, I impulsively leaned over and kissed her on the neck, murmuring, "Thank you for that. It was wonderful."

She blushed and reached over to squeeze my hand in acknowledgment, then we went back to Randall's house and fucked like crazed animals for the entire afternoon.

As promised, Randall had taken Moira and me to work with him at the Cannon's corporate headquarters in downtown Atlanta, but only after I had an amazing sixty-nine session with Moira that I so enjoyed, I repeated it that night when I stole into her room. I never would have imagined that a woman's mouth on my cock would feel so fucking good, or that Moira's sweet flesh would taste so delectable against my tongue.

The day with Randall was extremely interesting, but I kept getting the feeling that he was putting on too much of a show for me. He went to great lengths to describe his business, focusing on the company's customer service platform and well-made products for a moderate price. He clearly has great pride in his work, but it was as if he were desperate for me to feel that same pride. I paid diligent attention, asking questions and letting my curiosity be satisfied. As we were having dinner that night at the end of the workday, it all became clear to me when Randall wistfully said, "I wish I had someone like you, Zach, to take over for me one day."

Those words right there said it all. He was looking at me as if I were his heir, and I'm so totally not that person.

Moira had cut a side-glance at me, her eyes filled with apprehension. She didn't miss it either.

But I put a stop to his notions, when I kindly but firmly said, "I appreciate the sentiment, Randall, but it's just not something that interests me."

How could it interest me? Not when my heart and soul were back in the rainforest.

Still, I won't deny that I didn't start thinking about what it would be like to stay here... not for the opportunity to work for Randall, but to have Moira by my side every day. What would it be like to commit myself to one woman, and be able to indulge in the extreme pleasures she's given me every night, and sometimes during the day, since we came to Atlanta?

I had no answer to those thoughts.

Randall has no doubt been kinder to me than I could have imagined. But his kindness brings about a certain level of dissatisfaction to my soul. On the day he took me to see my parents' house, he advised me that he had set up a bank account for my use while I was here. He then handed me a small, square piece of plastic and then had to explain to me what a credit card was.

I tried to hand it back to him, adamantly refusing his charity. I had done nothing to earn this money. But then he pointed out that I had already accepted his "charity" by agreeing to come back to the States, by agreeing to accept Moira's help for which he was paying for, and by eating his food and staying in his house.