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But he detects my movement.
His head jerks up.
He sees me.
His eyes are wild. More than wild. Feral.
Oh my God!
He stares, and blinks, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing.
Then he drops the wood he’s carrying and starts walking towards me in ground-eating strides.
He’s coming for me.
After a split second of sheer, frozen terror, I turn and I run for my life.
I scream when he catches me but his huge hand covers my mouth before the sound can carry.
I struggle for my life! But he’s so strong. He lays me down in the sand and puts his full weight on top of me, keeping his hand over my mouth. He easily takes both of my wrists in his other fist and holds my arms secure above my head.
Help me! I’m trying to scream but it comes out more as a muted whisper. I try to punch him and kick him! I can’t. I’m pinned so securely I can’t even move.
I writhe underneath him to try to get loose but he’s incredibly heavy. As I squirm, my bare skin rubs against his bare skin. He’s hairy and hard all over.
Something against my thigh is very, very hard. Like he’s holding a stone column.
Oh my God. Is that … ?
I stop struggling. I lay there, staring up at his face. His eyes are dark. So are his eyelashes. Dark and thick, almost like he’s wearing eyeliner. Which I know he isn’t. My terror is taking my thoughts in strange directions. He’s a big, strong, hairy, handsome man. Not like Chad, I can’t help thinking. He looks like a hot … caveman.
His eyes rove over my face as he takes in every detail of me. The look in his eyes is equal parts scarily possessive and absolutely fascinated. I don’t like either.
“Water,” I try to whisper. “Please.” Maybe if I can distract him, he’ll take me somewhere, and I can run.
He lifts his weight off me, moving my arms so he can pin them with his knees.
“Ow!” I protest, but his hand is still over my mouth. He takes something from the strap over his chest.
It’s a piece of cloth.
He fits it over my mouth, lifting my head to tie it. It’s a gag.
I thrash underneath him again, trying to scream, but it’s no use. I’m gagged and pinned.
And his hands are free.
This is not a good thing.
He touches my face. My cheeks. My neck.
He runs his rough hands over my breasts, like he’s curious about how they might feel.
“Hey!” I try to protest and squirm again but it comes out sounding more like hmph and then I look down to notice … oh Lord. Oh, God. Oh, help.
It’s his thing! His … cock. It’s jutting out from under his leather loin cloth, which doesn’t actually cover much at all.
I whimper.
