Untamed

Chapter2

He loved her, but she rode a thin line every so often. She was on her last chance, and he was not giving her much room for error. He was built on principles, and she knew that, yet she liked to test the lines. He watched as she played around with her camera. He decided to walk to where she was standing. Coming up next to her, he stopped beside her.

She glanced up at him. “This is just stunning. Thank you, Love,” she said.

Taking her camera, she started capturing photos. She moved around to get different angles of various parts of the beach. She walked towards the water; he followed slightly behind her. Somewhere along the way she had removed her shoes; she was barefoot in the sand. As she walked, she dug her feet into the cool, wet sand.

She stopped, looked down at the sand, pointing. “Look! It's a jellyfish!” Her eyes bright with awe. “I love jellyfish! When I was little, I would hold the little clear ones because they don't have any stingers. This one has color.”

She smiled as she held her camera exactly right to take a photo of the jellyfish. “I wish I could touch it. They feel so weird out of water versus when they are in water.”

She looked at him, face glowing with pride.

“I wouldn't touch it if you don't want to get stung,” he replied.

“I know,” she said, “it's just so cool.”

She spotted a log close to where they were. “Hey, why don't we go sit on that log so you don't have to keep walking? I know the sand can be hard to walk on.”

She reached out, grabbed his hand, and started walking toward the log. He followed just behind her.

They came up to the log and sat down together. She leaned into his side and rested her head on his shoulder.

“I know I said it earlier, but thank you,” she spoke.

He leaned his head down and kissed her head, whispering, “You're welcome.”

They just sat there in the silence of the waves crashing against the surf and the seagulls making their calls in the air, content to just be next to each other.

In a soft voice, she broke the silence, “Can I ask a question without it upsetting you?”

“Sure,” he said.

“It's stupid, but I wonder about it a lot because I'm scared of the after, of something happening and you won't have me anymore or something happens to you. Who will take care of you? Who is going to be with you at your appointments? Who is going to make sure you are okay? Who is going to be your support when you need it? Who will love you like I do? I don't want you alone and not taken care of. I know what you will say about me, the typical 'I'm too move on and live my life.'”

“Are you done talking?” he said. He lifted her chin, so they were eye to eye.

“You, my dear, have given me more than most have. You are not replaceable. I will have to learn to manage without you, but I promise no one is going to fill your spot. They can't do what you manage to do. I was doing all this before you, and I will have to manage without you if that's the case. I am old, not dead yet. All I care about is the now, this moment, this second. If I died in the next 5 minutes, I would have died knowing I lived a full life and I was very loved by a beautiful woman. You fulfill things others can't. And when it comes to you, you are only partly right. I am a selfish man, and I am going to continue being selfish even in death. I will continue to not want to share you. So do you know what you are going to do? You are going to continue doing what I already ask of you: stay your exotic self, grab their attention, lure them in. Make them want, make them think they can have you. Make the world crave you, with want, desire, need. And then when they get so close, they think they have you, take it away. Own them. Even in death you can still please me. I own you, remember.”

He raised his hand and touched the back of her neck where the tattoo was—his permanent mark.

“You thought that even in my death I'd let you go? This is eternal, baby. Till you're in the ground beside me or our ashes mixed, you only belong to me. Till I say it's over, you are bound to me, and it's not over till you're gone too. So, everything I am teaching you, everything you learn from me, is to keep you going after me. You getting your s**t together is so we can have a life together. Is this clear enough for your little head of yours?”

“Yes, Sir,” she replied.

“I'm sorry I didn't mean to upset you.”

“No, no, but you need to stop thinking about what will happen after and stay focused on now. This is still doubting me. Haven't I made sure you're taken care of?”

She looked at him.

“Yes, sir, you have.”

“Then why wouldn't you think I would make sure you would be okay after I'm gone?”

“I still am working on that part, you taking care of me part,” she told him.

“I will get there. It is a me issue though, and it's something I need to work through, and I will, just keep patient with me. It's hard when no one has cared about me like you do. It's hard when I think it's going to fall apart. Everyone who I thought would stay walked away from me. So, I am trying not to have doubt. I don't try to upset you, you know.”

Still looking at her, he replied, “I know you don't. I am frustrated with how boys have mistreated you. You are too good of a person to waste. Again, you are not some piece of ass to me, and you don't seem to get that.”

“No, I do not understand, and that is okay,” she stated.

Rising from the log, she turned toward him, extended her hand, and gently encouraged him to stand. “Please join me for a walk to the water; the tide is in, so it will not be far,” she requested.

He met her eyes and agreed. After he rose—with her assistance—they proceeded toward the shoreline, her enthusiasm evident in her demeanor. He found satisfaction in seeing her happiness as she eagerly led him forward.

Upon reaching the water’s edge, she paused, raised her camera, and captured his photograph. Lowering the device, she asked, “May I take a picture of us together? I realize I should not ask, nor should I have one.”

He regarded her seriously and responded, “You are correct; having such a photo could be risky. I will allow it this once. Do not request it again and safeguard this image, as it will be the only one.” Her expression brightened with genuine excitement.

“Really?” she inquired, her excitement clear.

He replied, “Are you questioning my decision?”

She promptly answered, “No, Sir, I am not.”

She walked over, leaned back against his chest, and snapped a few photos of them together. Afterward, she turned to him and said, “Thank you, this means everything to me. I’ll keep these photos safe.”

He responded, “You don't have a choice.”

She stared up at him with a smile on her face, his gaze locked onto hers, his expression unreadable. She could feel the weight of his stare, like a physical touch, sending shivers down her spine. Without breaking eye contact, he gently ran his fingers down her spine, his touch feather-light, barely grazing her skin. Her body responded instinctively, her back arching slightly as a shudder ran through her, her breath catching in her throat.

The atmosphere seemed to shift, the air growing heavier, more charged, as he slowly glided his fingers back up, his touch even more delicate, as if he were afraid to disturb the fragile connection between them. Her eyes fluttered closed, her head tilting back slightly, exposing the long, graceful line of her neck. His gaze lingered on the vulnerable curve of her throat, his heart pounding in his chest as he reached out, his fingers tangling in her dark, messy hair.

With a gentle but firm grip, he pulled her head to the side, his touch possessive, dominant. Her neck was now fully exposed, the delicate skin taut and smooth, a tempting canvas for his lips. He leaned down slowly, his breath ghosting across her skin as he placed a tender kiss just behind her ear. She shivered, her body responding to his touch, her muscles tensing beneath his fingers.

He trailed slow, tender kisses down the side of her neck, his lips brushing against her skin like the softest whisper. His mouth was warm, his kisses gentle, but she could feel the underlying passion, the unspoken desire that simmered just beneath the surface. As he reached the base of her neck, he opened his mouth, his tongue gliding softly across her skin, a sensual, teasing caress.

Then, without warning, his teeth sank into the tender flesh of her neck, his bite not hard, but not gentle either. A soft moan escaped her lips as she squirmed in his arms, her body reacting to the sudden sensation. His grip on her hair tightened, his fingers threading through the dark strands as he held her firmly in place. He could smell her arousal, heavy and intoxicating, mingling with the scent of the salty air.

As he slowly applied more pressure, his teeth sinking deeper into her skin, her body tensed, her muscles tightened. But it was a losing battle, her resistance crumbling beneath the onslaught of pleasure. A quiet moan filled the air, her voice rough and unsteady as she surrendered to the overwhelming sensations coursing through her body.

His lips curved into a satisfied smile as he felt her body relax, her tension giving way to a weightless ecstasy. He wrapped his arm around her neck, pulling her closer, her breathing coming in short, sharp gasps. His fingers dug into her shoulders, his grip tight and possessive, as he bit down harder, his teeth rolling against her skin, sucking gently to leave a deep red mark.

She moaned louder, her voice a raw, primal sound that sent a shiver down his spine. She could feel the camera still clutched in her hand, the strap digging into her palm, but her focus was slipping, her mind consumed by the intense, overwhelming sensations.

As his mouth continued to ravage her, he pulled away, inspecting his work like art on canvas.

His gaze lingered on the marks he had left, each one full of intention, each flush of skin a line in a story only they would read. Her body, trembling in his arms, unfurling beneath his hands—every shiver and sigh, every curve a passage worth memorizing.

With a slow, deliberate touch, he traced the fresh bloom of red on her neck, letting his fingertips dance across the delicate script of her skin. Her breaths, uneven and urgent, promised more chapters yet to come. He leaned in, his lips grazing her ear, his voice low—a confident whisper, “Your body is the book, and I am taking notes.”

She melted into the words, her hands tightening around the camera, the world narrowing down to sensation and story. In that charged, intimate hush, he studied her reactions—the arch of her back, the flush of her cheeks, each subtle movement catalogued and cherished. Every detail mattered; he read her with reverence, his memory filling with the poetry of her surrender.

She went limp in his arms, all resistance dissolving as if swept away by the tide. Her body yielded, trusting the strength of his embrace. In that suspended moment, the boundaries between them blurred—her breath mingling with his, the rhythm of their hearts synchronized in a quiet, private symphony. He held her gently, anchoring her to the present, letting his hands map the contours of her surrender. With every touch, he soothed the echoes of pleasure still rippling through her, grounding her in the safety of his arms as the world slowly returned, colored now by the memory of their passion.

Still cradled in his arms, her chest rose and fell as she gathered the courage to speak, her lips trembling with vulnerability. In the hush that followed, she let her guard fall away entirely. “I love you,” her voice barely above a whisper—soft, but resonant, trembling with the weight of truth.

He pulled her closer, his breath mingling with hers as he let her words wash over him. For a moment, he closed his eyes, anchoring himself in the warmth of her words.

“Some of the best things in life are kept,” he whispered, the promise threading between them. His hand moved slowly over the curve of her back, gentle and deliberate, as if to reassure her that he was there. “You see me in ways no one else ever has. In ways I didn’t think anyone could.”

She let out a shaky laugh, soft and rich, the kind that comes from deep beneath the skin. “Some people spend their whole lives hiding the best parts of themselves just to survive,” she replied, her voice low.

His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, lingering at her jaw. “You’re the one who lets me be more than what the world expects. With you, I don’t have to wear armor. I can just… breathe.”

“For me,” she said, her words trembling but clear, “you are worth every risk. Every moment. Every day.”

He kissed the top of her head again, holding her so close that not even regret could slip between them. “Mine,” he said softly, a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. “Always.”

He drew her even closer, his thumb tracing lazy circles on her skin, as if to anchor her in the gravity of it all. “Let’s do what lovers do best,” he breathed, his voice deep with longing, “let’s leave—just you and me. Let’s go somewhere the rest of the world can’t touch us. For a few more hours, I want to be selfish. I want you all to myself, where nothing exists but us, where we can just be lovers with no interruptions—only the truth of what we feel.”