Watching her in the wooden tub was gut-wrenching. My cock ached to fill her, and my arms longed to surround her. I was so proud, watching as she made her way through the tall grass. She’s finding her fear has always been her greatest companion. I’ve dreamed of her naked, dirty body in that shack, waiting for me. She is such a good little slave. I find I crave her pussy more than food and water. She kept me alive while in the desert. It was her face that kept me going, the memory of her smell on my skin, the way her cunt turns violet before she comes. The way her hair wraps just right around my hand, and the feel of her mouth on my cock. I never would have made it home alive without her. She is my other half, the breath that fills my lungs.
Lily stifled a cry as she stood up. Still holding the journal, she reached for the pen and sat on the floor. She had to write before he came back. Surely he’d be coming to fill her tub again. She pushed the matted hair off her shoulder and began to write.
While he was gone, every waking moment was spent in torment and every sleeping hour spent in blissful dreams. My elysian fields were filled with sensations of his touch and visions of his smiling face above me. I feared he would forget me, but when I saw him again, I knew he had given his heart to me as much as I had committed mine to him. My body takes comfort in being filled by his cock. It opens to him by instinct and allows his desires to take it to new heights. My pussy craves him like no other. I long to wrap around him, let him thrust in and out of her, claiming her for his own. She longs to always be his slave, be wet for him, beg for him. My fingers aren’t enough to satisfy her. They only anger her more, making her need ferocious. Please Adam, I need you to come to me, fuck me, fill me, wipe your precious cum all over me. Please…
Lily had been right. Just as she closed the cover on the journal, the door unlatched and opened. She hesitated a moment before walking over. This time Adam didn’t hide. He was standing on the porch with a silver platter piled high with biscuits, fruit, jam, and honey. A fresh pitcher of orange juice rested at his feet.
“For me?” Her smile was wide as she clapped her hands, jumping up and down. “Yummy! Yummy!”
Adam chuckled. Lily could only imagine the sight she made, hair wild and snarled, body covered in dirt. He looked down at her shins where the thin scrapes had dried, blood marking her skin.
He set the tray inside the shack before kneeling to inspect her legs. “The roses?”
She stared at the dark strands of hair covering his crown. More than anything, she wanted to run her fingers through the silky waves, pulling them to her nose and smelling the masculine scent of his shampoo.
“It doesn’t hurt,” she said.
“Oh, Lily Flower. Those look painful.” His voice was one of pity as he looked her over.
“I’m fine, really.” It wasn’t a lie. The stinging pain had stopped during the night. “I don’t mind. I’ll take care of it.”
“Let me clean you.”
“You want to do that?”
“More than anything else in this world.”
The rumble in her stomach echoed. “Can I have a biscuit first?”
His smile made her soul feel like it had taken flight. “Of course. Jam or honey?” he asked as he walked into the shack.
“Both!” she said and ran off the porch to hop into the wooden tub. The biting sensation of the cool water rushed through her feet like a bolt of lightning.
Adam carried over the thickly covered biscuit, handing it to her as she sat down in the water. “Here. I’m going to fill the bucket.”
She took a big bite from the still-warm biscuit as her eyes focused on watching him maneuver the bright red handle on the pump. The clear water quickly filled the metal bucket. The way his biceps bulged with each pump made her pussy clench. “Mmm,” she murmured as she took another bite of the sweet-laden biscuit. The morsel wasn’t the only thing making her mouth water this morning.
The thickly veined muscles on his forearms rippled as he pumped the handle again. The white T-shirt he wore did little to hide the valleys and ridges of muscles beneath. As he carried the water-filled pail back her way, she admired his strong hands. How wonderful it would feel to have them sliding over her yearning skin. He must know how desperate she’d become over these past few days.
“Was it good?” he asked as he poured half of the bucket of water over her head.
She shivered and cried out as the icy water flooded her hair and face. “Y-yes!”
He went to work lathering the bar of soap in his hands. Every nerve on her head tingled as he massaged the suds into her tangled hair. She closed her eyes, shutting the sunlight out, so all she could feel was him digging his fingertips into her scalp. Light, soft soapsuds floated down her face, over her neck, to rest in small piles on her shoulders.