Page 7 of Feral
“The boat guy left me a note saying I need to find my own way as he had to run back and my phone just died. How am I supposed to get back now, huh?”
I shrug, almost sympathizing with her predicament.
“Not my problem. Although I do know Tom's wife was due with twins any day now. I’m afraid that's what messed up your carefully laid plan. Looks like you got yourself in a pickle, young lady.”
“That's not very helpful, Mr. Broussard.” She frowns while looking around and I adjust myself when she glances down at her darkened screen again. “Can I please use your phone to call him? Surely you must have his number.”
I look at her fumbling with her purse as if she’ll find the answer to her problems there.
“I would gladly let you use my phone,mon cher,” I say cheerfully, watching as her features relax and she stops searching inside her bag, “But I’m afraid I don’t have use for one.”
And then, she looks straight into my eyes and she seems like she’s ready to attack.
“How do you even,” she starts, then shrugs, deciding to leave her sentence hanging, her thoughts probably not as entertaining as mine are at this very moment.
“I can put you up for the night,” I offer, immediately regaining her attention. “Only, I won’t do it for free.”
“Ha. It figures! And what is it you’d like in return? A flash of my tits? A sniff of my panties?”
I stare at her, holding back a smile. I’m itching to see the look on her face when I tell her exactly what’s on my mind.
Where did this little spitfire come from? I like the sass and I know I’d enjoy working it out of her even more.
“Don’t be silly, Miss Stone. I want something far more tainted,” I say in as clear a voice as I can. “I want you under me.”
And just like I imagined, her expression is priceless.
“Is that your attempt at being funny, Mr. Broussard? Seriously?”
“I’m dead serious, Miss Stone. Maybe you should have thought real hard before walking into a lion’s den looking like a sheep ready for slaughter.”
She stays put, not taking a step closer.
“Oh, please. I am not a sheep and you are not a lion and this kind of talk makes no sense. All I want is to get back to civilization. How hard is that?”
“Well, it’s pretty damn hard, Miss Stone. You can check for yourself if you like,” I say, rubbing my palm across my erection.
“Agh! You are despicable!”
I watch, fascinated as she abruptly turns on her heel and starts walking toward the swamp, hands waving back and forth.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going, little girl? This ain’t Central Park. There are creatures lurking in the Bayou a city girl like yourself has no idea about.”
She stops, turns back to look at me, her eyes shooting daggers.
“Frankly, I’m surprised you care what might happen to me! Why don’t you go back inside to your miserable little life and forget I was even here? I merely asked for a place to crash for the night!”
“And I merely asked for a pity fuck in return, princess. Or am I too old for you? I bet you only fuck boys your age, clean and proper, am I right? I bet you've never fucked a real man, have you?”
My voice carries across the desolate scenery and I thank God for the absence of any curious neighbors. She takes a single step closer, her temper making her even more ravishing.
“I’m not intimidated by you, Mr. Broussard. I’d rather take my chances out in the swamp, in the middle of a heatwave, than stay here and spend the night with you. I’m surprised you didn’t jump me already. Ever heard of a thing called subtlety?”
I continue to stare at her, wondering if she’s actually going to walk away.
“I tell it like it is,mon cher.Got no time to beat around the bush.”
“Well, dream on!”
