by Jill Myles
Within moments, my feet were bound together, just like my wrists, and the leather cut into my skin painfully. The cavemen settled in at the small clearing, plucking leaves off of nearby plants and chewing and laughing, and generally being boisterous. They were thrilled they had me again, I noted with disgust, because Bgha was the loudest one of all.
One of the cavemen wandered into the woods with his spear, presumably to find dinner, and I huddled near the background, trying to stay out of eye contact as the others relaxed, pissed in the bushes, and continued their garbled, jubilant conversation.
At one point, Bgha must have grown tired of bragging to the others about me, because he turned and looked over at me with beady eyes, and my skin prickled in fear. He approached me, a speculative gleam in his eye, and slid a hand over my bare, muddy leg.
I shifted away from his touch, clamping my knees tightly together. I knew where this was heading. “Go away,” I bit out, trying to sound as brave as possible. “Fuck off.”
He grinned down at me, yellow teeth crowning that nasty mess of beard, and jerked my knees apart. I clamped them back together again, only to have him dig his fingers harder into the flesh of my thighs and force my legs apart again. The other cavemen watched nearby, silent except for the occasional guttural jeer.
I tried to fling him off by jerking my body hard to the side. “Don’t touch me,” I said, my voice raising to a frightened shriek when he did just that, his dirty, squat fingers exploring my belly and fingering my swimsuit with interest. His hairy body shifted against my leg, and I felt his erection pressed into my flesh.
I shuddered with revulsion. “Salvador’s going to totally beat the shit out of you,” I said, biting back a sob of fear. “You wait and see.”
“Ongomeh! ” Called one of the voices, and all of the cavemen turned. One of the others was there – the one hunter, holding a nest full of oversized eggs. He raised one triumphantly over his head. “Melaar ongomeh!”
That got their interest right away. The cavemen gathered around the hunter, talking excitedly, fighting over the eggs. Bgha gave me one last cross look and slapped my leg, heading over with the others to claim his share.
I breathed a sigh of relief. Tossed over for raw eggs. I could live with that.
I wormed into the shadows, trying to disappear as they broke open the eggs and sucked the contents down with noisy slurps. Maybe they’d all get food poisoning and die, I thought cheerfully. I huddled in the shadows, working my wrists and trying to kick my feet to loosen the too-tight leather.
A hand clamped over my mouth.
“Diana,” Salvador breathed against my neck.
Joy rushed through me, so thick and hot that I wanted to turn and kiss the man. Excited relief bubbled in my throat, and I bit my lip hard to keep from crying out. Instead, I raised my tied hands to show him the straps holding me captive. Nearby, the cavemen fought over the last three eggs, arguing loudly with each other.
Warm, familiar hands slid under my body and lifted me – without a sound – off the ground and we melted into the shadows. This time, I didn’t mind being tossed over Salvador’s shoulder as he raced through the jungle on quiet feet.
We weren’t more than twenty feet away when the outraged bellows hit my ears, echoing in the forest. Salvador didn’t break in stride, though, just continued his cross-country path through the depths of the forest, me jouncing on his shoulder. I relaxed against him, realizing that I was safe once more, and felt relief so overwhelming that I nearly cried.
Like it or not, I was not letting Salvador out of my sight again. If I had to pick between being his woman, and being the woman of a caveman, I’d pick the sexy Spaniard any day.
*** *** ***
We stopped a few hours later, as the sun was coming up behind the trees. I’d dozed for a bit on Salvador’s shoulder, but the rollicking motion left me with little rest and a lot of seasickness. Salvador had slowed down as the night wore on, and I could sense him dragging. I was happy when he put me down and we sat against a fallen log.
I raised my tied hands at him. “Can you untie me?”
He gave me a quick look, and then shook his head, closing his eyes and ignoring me.
Undeterred, I shoved my hands on his chest. “Look, I’m grateful to you for saving me, but I’d really appreciate it if you just untied me. I’m not going anywhere.” I punctuated each word with an angry stab of his chest. “I’ve learned my lesson.”
He merely watched me under hooded, sleepy eyes.
This lack of communication thing was really getting to me. I sighed and gestured with my hands. “Diana Salvador meh. Understand? Meh. I’m yours. I’m not running away or anything stupid like that.”
He raised an eyebrow at me. “Meh?”
I blushed. “Meh. ” His scrutiny continued and I squirmed, wriggling at my bonds. “Can you please untie me now?”
Salvador gave me another searching look, then finally reached out to undo the bonds that kept my hands tied. I rotated my wrists as he untied my feet, and rubbed at the irritated skin. “Oh, thank you. That feels so wonderful. I—ulp!” My words choked off when he raised my foot and stared at the underside. He ran his fingers along the dirty pads of my foot.
I giggled at the sensation and tried to squirm away. “That tickles.”
Apparently he wasn’t too happy with what he saw, because he grunted and gave me a long look, then picked me up and put me over his shoulder again.
“Wait!” I slapped one hand along his back. “I didn’t get a chance to—“ My words cut off when he gave my backside a quick slap, reminding me that I needed to be quiet in the jungle. I sighed and obeyed, and hoped we were stopping again soon.
We did. Not more than five minutes passed before I heard the rushing of water – and then I had to pee really bad. I squirmed on his shoulder until he released me, and we took a momentary break as I went to the bushes. He stuck close by – a little too close for me not to be embarrassed, but after our last mishap, I didn’t want him going anywhere. Business done, I stepped out of the bushes and wished for a sink to clean my hands at, noting the grime under my fingernails, and sighed. Oh, to be clean again.
I got my wish. Two more minutes of jostling travel on Salvador’s shoulder, and the smell of water hit the air at the same time that I realized we were near the sound of the moving water. I craned my head to see my surroundings, and gasped with excitement when I did. “A waterfall!”
Salvador gently set me down at a rocky outcrop near the edge of the small pool, and I sighed with appreciation at its beauty. It wasn’t a big waterfall – rather, one of the thicker streams had met a rocky outcrop at some point, and the result was a small burbling waterfall that dropped into a small pool that ran off into another stream. The water smelled clean and cold, though, and I got excited just at the thought.
I turned to look at Salvador. “Is it safe to bathe?” I made a washing motion, gesturing at my muddy, caked hair.
He nodded at me and pulled his knife out, gesturing that he was going to scout the area while I washed. Sounded good to me.
Thick plants covered the banks of the small pool, and I hid behind one of those and shucked my bikini before sliding into the water and immediately submersing myself up to my shoulders to hide my body in case he felt like looking. Not that I was much to look at right now, I admitted to myself. Grime caked every pore of my body, and the lower I sunk in the water, the larger the cloud of filthy water that surrounded me.
It was difficult to stay down – the water wasn’t deeper than waist level, so I glanced around to see where Salvador was. His broad, golden back was in the distance, and I watched him as he circled the camp, checking things. He seemed occupied, though, so I decided to be a little less shy with my body, and stood up in the water, approaching the waterfall.
The water was crisp and cold, my skin peppering with goosebumps and my nipples hardening. I ran my fingers under the water teasingly, and gave a sigh of pure relief. It was just about as close
as I was going to get to my shower at home, and I slid under the cold spray without further thought, wanting to get clean.
It was the best feeling in the world, I decided. Getting clean was better than all the Godiva chocolates in the universe. I scrubbed at my filthy hair with my fingers, letting the water loosen the chunks of mud and encrusted dirt out of my hair and detangling my hair with my fingers until it felt normal again. I stood under the heavenly spray of the waterfall for endless minutes, entranced by the feel of the water sluicing over my body. Eyes closed, hair clean, I let the water wash over me, taking away all the horrors of the past few days. I ran my hands over my body, feeling the grime give way to the spray of the waterfall, and heard a soft splash that was not quite drowned out by the roar of the waterfall itself. I leaned out of the spray and wrung my hair out with my hands, opening my eyes.
Salvador was wading through the water towards me, the waves caressing his hips so low that I knew he didn’t have his breechcloth on. The look on his face was intense; like a starving man that had just had a banquet presented before his eyes.
The banquet was my naked form, sleek with water. As I stared into his hungry eyes, a surge of lust shot through my own body.
His gaze moved over me, ravening and hungry. His steps were slow and sure as he waded through the water towards me.
I placed my hands over my breasts and ducked my head, feeling suddenly shy at his intense gaze. It was one thing to wear a bikini around him, and another to be totally exposed.
Salvador came to my side, close enough to feel the heat from his body, but not touching. His lips parted as he looked over my newly-scrubbed skin.
No words were spoken between us; his body was saying plenty enough for me to hear. He wanted me. It was in the way his breath panted out through his lips, the intensity of his gaze. His entire being was focused utterly on me. My body tingled with awareness as I waited for him to make a move.
He lifted his hand out of the water and reached for my hands. I still cupped my breasts protectively, so his fingers brushed against my skin.
It was an unstated question – how far would I let him go?
But I wanted him to touch me – more than anything. My hands slid away from my breasts and I let them fall to my sides, the waves lapping against my skin. I waited, breast and body exposed, for him to make the first move. He’d been marooned here on this hideous island for quite some time. When he touched me, would he be rough and fast with need? The thought excited me and made me tremble all at once.
He didn’t move for a long, long minute, his eyes on my body, not saying a word. I began to get nervous, and I squirmed slightly under his scrutiny, my arms flexing involuntarily and I raised one, intending to cover myself once more.
Then, Salvador reached for me. He brushed the backs of his fingers on my puckered, bare nipple.
I shuddered at that gentle stroke and made a soft noise in my throat, leaning into him. My hand moved to his hip. I needed him to touch me.
Reverent, he grazed my breast again, teasing the nipple, his fingers playing along my flesh and then caressing the soft, heavy underside. He brushed my other hand away from my other breast, exposing it to his gaze as well, and swept his fingers across the second peak, lavishing it with the same feather-light touches that he’d given the first.
I gave a soft whimper of frustration when his hands gently cupped my breasts. He remained in place, motionless except the occasional flick of his thumbs across the taut peaks of my nipples, and the junction of my legs throbbed in anticipation. He seemed lost in thought.
I raised my hands to his nape, toying with the shaggy blonde hair that curled against the back of his neck. “Salvador,” I said, my voice a husky whisper. “Don’t you want me?” He’d been hinting at it for two days, and now that I was here and naked and in his arms, he was stopping?
His thumbs flicked across my nipples again, and I gave a low moan, leaning forward and pressing my forehead against his. Our heated skin met, mine damp with water, and our mouths hovered near each other, not kissing, but sharing space. I could smell his breath, faint and spicy.
I made the first move, then, slanting my mouth toward his, giving his lips the same, feather-light touch he’d expressed on my breasts. Gently, I pulled at his lips with mine, sucking on his, running my tongue along his mouth. He gave a groan of assent as I did so, and his fingers flicked across my nipples again, even as I pressed into his hands. Go on, I wanted to say, and knew he wouldn’t understand. Touch me.
He did, then, his mouth seeking mine with fierce abandon, his tongue plunging into my mouth in a hard, deep caress that made me dizzy. My brain glazed as his hands slid down to my buttocks and cupped them, dragging my hips to rest against his. The hard length of his erection nestled against my stomach. Oh, he was turned on, all right. My skin nearly scorched with the heat from his body.
I rocked my hips against his, the water swishing around us, and pulled on the back of his neck, dragging his mouth closer to mine, as if I could devour the man whole if I tried hard enough.
Damn, but he was a good kisser for a man on a deserted island.
He jerked his hips against mine, his hardness straining against the junction of my thighs, and I quivered from head to toe, lost in that minute sensation, my pulse throbbing in time between my legs. My hands slid along his back, feeling the hard cords of muscle along his skin, marveling as his mouth made love to mine.
His lips slid away from mine, pressing kisses along my collarbone and causing gooseflesh to erupt across my body. I tilted my head back in pleasure, my fingers curling against his shoulders to show him that I liked it, even as soft, ridiculous noises of pleasure erupted from my throat.
Then, his mouth dropped to my breasts and my body exploded. Salvador’s lips latched onto the peak of one breast, and I was unable to resist the shuddering moan that escaped me. His tongue flicked hard against my sensitive nipple, then he sucked, lapping at my skin. When his hand slid to my other breast and began to imitate the actions of his mouth, my low moans became throbbing pants.
His mouth lavished attention on my nipples, then slid lower, until his mouth hovered near the waterline, all too near my belly-button. Salvador’s hands slid down to my hips, kneading them as if that small action could part them with a thought, and pressed his forehead against my belly.
“Diana,” he said against my flesh, licking at my navel, his voice the raspy, low accent that caused new shivers to course up and down my skin. He murmured something else, low and soft in Spanish.
I didn’t know what he said, but lord, it sounded sexy. I wrapped my fingers in his wet hair as he hovered near my hips. Just a few inches lower, and paradise. I wondered how long he could hold his breath, then blushed at the thought.
Salvador’s body tensed against mine, as if sensing my thoughts, and he stood.
Change of plans? Oh, well, that was okay, as long as he continued to kiss me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my breasts against his chest, leaning in for another intoxicating kiss. Instead, his mouth thinned into a hard line and he pulled away from me, detangling himself from my arms and heading towards the bank of the small pool.
Stunned, I froze in place. What exactly had just happened? As a modern girl, I expected sex to be interrupted for a condom-search, of course, so I waited in the water for a moment longer before panicking. Not that they had condoms on this island, but surely he wasn’t turning me down…was he?
At the shore’s edge, his bronze body moved out of the water and Salvador began to dress, not bothering to glance back at me.
Ouch. He was turning me down.
Humiliation washed over me. My face ached with the embarrassed smile I pasted to my lips, and I drew my wet hair forward, trying vainly to cover my breasts. When that didn’t work, I slid lower into the water and headed for the concealing shore, looking for my bikini. How embarrassing. Had I misinterpreted all those signals that Salvador had been tossing my way?
I snuck a quick glance
at him as I dressed, peeping out of the corner of my lashes. He’d dressed as well, and while the bulge in his loincloth was still apparent (and rather breathtaking, I might add), he was ignoring me.
I didn’t understand it.
It stung. A lot. I finished dressing and wrung my hair out, then sat on the grass nearby, examining my feet and trying to look unconcerned with the fact that he’d just slapped me in the face.
So to speak.
My feet were pretty torn up. I winced just at looking at them. The undersides were bruised, every inch was scratched and what wasn’t callused was pretty much tenderized. No wonder it hurt to walk. The cut on the bottom of my foot was upraised and reddened, and probably needed another cleaning. I winced at it and laid my foot back down in the grass. It hadn’t hurt until I looked at it, and now that I had, it throbbed. Figured.
I fought back a watery sniff and tried not to feel sorry for myself. Not only did my feet look like meatloaf, but the sexiest guy on the island wasn’t even going to have sex with me, the sexiest girl on the island.
Only girl on the island. That kind of hurt.
I glanced over at Salvador, intending to give him a hateful glare and show him that he’d hurt my feelings, but when I looked over, he wasn’t there.
I was alone.
I sat up, alarm coursing through me. “Er, Salvador?”
To my relief, he appeared a moment later, standing about fifty feet away between some of the underbrush. He made the motion for quiet, then gestured that I should come to him. I did so, getting to my feet and wincing when my cut flesh smacked against the rough tangle of the jungle floor.
That’s what I get for looking at my wounds, I thought wryly, and hobbled the few steps toward him, trying to look dignified and failing miserably.
He frowned at my tiny, mincing steps, and within moments, he was at my side.
“It’s just a scratch,” I protested as he bent over, presumably to yank my foot up and examine it. Instead, however, he picked up a handful of the mud at our feet and stood again, brushing the wet hair off my forehead.
