Uncivilized by Sawyer Bennett

  Watching him for a moment, I was stunned at his lack of interest in what I was doing. I remember thinking that I was pretty certain any red-blooded, American man would never turn his face away from a woman intimately touching herself.

  Strangely, I found his indifference to me completely unsatisfying.

  Completely wrong.

  Part of me wanted to remove my hand from between my legs and just go to sleep in frustrated silence. But as my clit throbbed against my finger, I decided that the sweet release I would give myself would be more greatly appreciated by my body.

  So my hand started moving again, and I rubbed in slow circles, skirting the outside edges of my most-sensitive flesh. I watched Zach as I touched myself, noticing that he started to move his own hand faster, twisting at the base and then rubbing his thumb over the swollen head on his upward strokes.

  Pressing in closer to my clit, I skimmed over the top, occasionally sinking a finger deep into myself. I finally decided to give myself two fingers, and when I pushed them into my slickness, I couldn't stop the deep groan that slithered its way out of my throat.

  Zach's head snapped to the side in response to the noise I emitted, and his eyes were wide and curious as he stared at me. I found his attention now to be overwhelmingly sinful. Completely ignoring the consequences of what this could all mean for our working relationship going forward, I started to rub myself furiously, completely giving way to the sensations. My hips bucked against my hand and I moaned repetitively with every stroke I gave myself, never taking my eyes off Zach.

  Once again, we stared at each other across the fire, our gazes filled with lust and challenge.

  Zach's eyes narrowed as he watched me, his hand moving more roughly against his flesh as he tugged and pulled on himself. And I felt vindication when he finally lost a little bit of that steely control, and a loud huff of breath pushed out of his mouth. He immediately sucked back in more air to replace it, his chest heaving as he started to become lost to his own pleasure. It was the first time he made a sound in the two times I had watched him engaged in sexual activity, and I felt womanly pride that it occurred in response to my own sexual pleasure.

  "Mmmm," I moaned out into the thick, night air to see how much further out of control I could make him. "Feels so good."

  Zach rewarded me by groaning loudly in response, and his back arched slightly from the ground.

  I was amazed. Titillated. So very turned on.

  My sensuality was ramping up Zach's pleasure... making him lose himself. This was a complete change from his measured discipline as he had sex with that woman the other night. And watching Zach start to come undone solely because he was watching me and hearing me come undone, fueled me on.

  My breaths came out in harsh pants, my hips gyrated against my hand, and I didn't hold back a single sound as I raced faster and faster to what I knew was going to be a shattering explosion.

  More fluid leaked from the tip of Zach's cock and, after an especially hard pull on his shaft, he actually started grunting with every stroke.

  It was music to my ears and obliterated the last barrier to my release. My entire body stiffened as my orgasm tore through me. I cried out hoarsely into the night, my back bowing up awkwardly in the hammock, while Zach's glittering gaze drank up every bit of my reaction. I watched as his heavy balls pulled inward and tightened, and while tiny aftershocks pulsed through my body, Zach threw his head back, lifted his butt off the ground, and shouted out his release to the stars as he came.

  Semen jetted out of the tip of his cock, flowing over his hand, splashing on his stomach, while he still worked his shaft. He gave another loud groan and squeezed his eyes tight, before finally releasing the hold he had on himself.

  I watched in complete astonishment as his body immediately settled down. In the firelight, I was able to see his chest was rising and falling quickly, as well as the pulse in his neck hammering his life's blood through his arteries. But otherwise, he remained absolutely still and quiet.

  I gently removed my hand from between my legs, refastening my zipper and button. My gaze didn't leave Zach, but he never looked back at me again. Keeping the one hand behind his head and the other one still soaking wet with his release across his stomach, he merely closed his eyes and went to sleep.

  I pull my head away from its resting perch on the cab window and blink to clear those sinful memories out of my head. Shame courses through me as I think about what I did.

  What more I still want to do with Zach.

  Dr. Moira Reed, respected anthropologist and associate professor at Northwestern University. Given an extremely generous grant from Randall Cannon, philanthropist, multi-billionaire and godfather to Zacharias Easton, in order to collect him from the Amazon and help him acclimate to life here.

  The only thing I've taught him so far is what it's like to watch a woman masturbate. While technically, our culture's sexual differences are something that Zach would eventually learn about, I'm sure Randall envisioned that coming from a textbook and not from a bird's eye view of watching me perform.

  If Randall ever found out about that little interlude, he would be furious I'm sure. It would not only mean the loss of the grant he is giving me so I can publish my work with Zach, but it would probably mean the loss of my career if he wanted to really punish me for corrupting his godson.

  God, I'm such an idiot. I vow to myself that I have to maintain an absolute professional distance with Zach going forward. My career is too important to risk on something that is so far outside the bounds of decency.

  Chapter 3

  Zach

  "Zach... dinner is ready," I hear Moira's voice call out through the closed door to my bedroom.

  I don't answer right away, instead continuing to stare at the ceiling above me. Part of me doesn't want to join her because that will mean more painful attempts at conversation with this woman that I'm attracted to, yet despise.

  "Zach? Did you hear me?" she asks.

  "I'll be there in a minute," I tell her curtly, and then I hear her footsteps moving away from my door.

  We had arrived at her home here in Evanston. It's a small, white house with black shutters and cheerful flowers dotted in pots all over the front porch. It sort of reminds me of my parents' little house back in Georgia, and distinct memories of my mom working in her garden in the backyard assaulted me when the taxicab pulled up.

  After Moira paid the driver, I followed her in carrying my backpack, a purchase she had made for me to carry my meager belongings out of the Amazon. In addition to my parents' stuff, I had nothing but the new clothes Moira had purchased for me and a small, beaded necklace that Oehla, one of the small Caraican girls, had given me before I left. My bow and quiver, as well as my machete, were all left behind, Moira telling me that they were not allowed on the plane back to the States. I was so angry at that I cursed at her in Portuguese for what felt like forever, and she just placidly watched me until I ran out of steam. She apologized softly and said that she would make sure they were kept safe until I could return.

  Sly woman... talking about my return, when I know she has no desire to see me do that. But I'll play along with her little game... for now.

  I roll off the bed, the damp towel I wrapped around my waist after a shower still hanging on me loosely. It was the first thing I did after Moira had showed me around, telling me to make myself at home and treat this house as my own.

  I just grunted at her and decided to take a shower, using the opportunity to release my tension by stroking myself to a satisfying conclusion, all while imagining what I'd like to do to Moira's body if I had a chance. I found it disconcerting that I didn't think of Tukaba once, instead imagining that flame hair pouring down Moira's back while I took her from behind. My release was hard, but I was silent as my seed erupted against the tile wall of the shower.

  Looking back at the clothing I pulled out of the backpack, an idea suddenly strikes me. Moira said to treat this house as if it were my own. Whil
e she has made it very clear that while in public, I have to be fully dressed at all times, I know without a doubt that if I were back home in the Caraican village, I would be completely naked.

  With a smile, I untuck the towel from around my waist and let it drop to the floor before I walk out of my bedroom.

  Moira is in the kitchen, her back turned to me while she cooks something on the stove. I can remember my mother standing at the stove in our house, pulling a cookie sheet out of the oven, and I can almost smell the scent of chocolate and vanilla, items that I had long forgotten about. My mouth actually waters and, for a brief, insane moment, I consider asking Moira if she can make cookies for me.

  But then I tamp that urge down, because I don't want to ask her for anything.

  I walk over to the kitchen table and when I slide one of the chairs out, Moira startles slightly and then turns her head over her shoulder with a smile on her face.

  "I hope you're hungry. I made--"

  Moira's words seem to dry within her mouth, and her eyes flare wide with surprise as she sees me standing there naked. Her mouth hangs slightly open, and her eyes drag slowly down my body. When her gaze reaches my shaft, it gives a little jump under her perusal and starts to thicken, which surprises me since I had tamed that beast not but half an hour ago.

  "What are you doing?" she asks, her voice hoarse as her gaze returns to mine.

  "I'm ready to eat dinner, just as you asked," I tell her without giving anything away on my face.

  "But... you can't... you need to go put some clothes on, Zach," she says, her eyes darting quickly down one more time to look at me.

  "I refuse," is all I say as I take a seat on the kitchen chair. I stretch my legs out in front of me and rest my hands across my stomach.

  Moira swallows hard. "But... it's not proper to be naked."

  Shrugging my shoulders, I give her a mocking stare. "You told me to treat this home as my own. In my own home, I would be naked. Thus I am naked here in this place you tell me to call my home."

  She opens her mouth to say something, but then snaps it shut. Moira closes her eyes briefly and takes a deep breath. When she opens them back up, she has that same pleasant smile that I've seen several times over the last few days when I refuse to do something she has asked.

  "Okay... that's fine for now. We can talk about it later."

  Turning away to stir whatever is in the pot on the stove... which I admit smells very good... she then mutters, "Just don't answer the door if someone knocks on it."

  I snicker to myself because I've made her uncomfortable. This is no less than she deserves because from the moment I first laid eyes on this woman, she's stolen every bit of comfort from me. If I can repay the favor, I'll take every opportunity I can.

  Moira busies herself at the stove, stirring whatever is in the pot. Then she takes two plates out of the cabinet and starts to ladle food on each one. Picking the plates up, she turns to me and says, "It's not much, just Hamburger Helper, but I don't have anything stocked up. We'll have to go to the grocery store tomorrow."

  She sets the plate down in front of me. I inhale deeply as I look at the pile of unrecognizable food. Moira grabs two forks out of a drawer and sets one down beside my plate, which I ignore.

  I don't wait for her to sit at the table to eat, but immediately stick my fingers into the pile of steaming sustenance and try to pick up the squirmy mess. It slips out of my grasp and falls back to the plate.

  When I look up at Moira, she primly takes her fork and scoops up some food, then puts it delicately in her mouth. After she chews and swallows, she says, "It's a lot easier with the fork."

  I grunt at her in reply, merely picking up the plate and bringing it to my mouth. With my fingers, I start pushing the stuff into my open mouth, relishing in her look of stunned disbelief.

  Putting the plate back down, I chew the mouthful, which is absolutely delicious, and give her a superior smile before I swallow.

  "What is in this Hamburger Helper?" I ask.

  "Some pasta noodles and sauce... ground beef. Did you ever have this as a kid?"

  Shaking my head, I pick the plate up and push some more into my mouth. "Not that I remember," I say with a full mouth. She actually grimaces at me, and that makes me happy.

  We eat in silence, and I make quick work of my meal. When my plate is empty, I realize I'm still hungry. "I'll have some more."

  She raises an eyebrow at me, and I see a spark of something I haven't seen yet. Smiling at me, she says, "There's plenty more on the stove. Help yourself."

  My eyes cut to the stove, and then back to Moira. Serve myself? Is she serious?

  "Zach... I didn't mind serving you the first portion because I was already up and getting my own plate, but you need to learn to serve yourself."

  I stare at her a moment, wondering how I can argue against her. My upbringing demands the woman serve me, but this I know is the way of things in my village because the men provide the food. Here... Moira not only provided the food, but she prepared it as well.

  With a curt nod, I stand from the table, but not before licking my fingers clean, which rewards me with another grimace from her. I take my plate to the stove and scoop up some more of the cheese-and-beef concoction.

  "Would you like some more?" I offer, and I am immediately shocked I would do such a thing. Thankfully, she says a quiet "no" so I help myself to the remainder.

  More silence as I finish eating and Moira watches me. After I have scooped the last bit in my mouth and swallowed it, I actually get up from the table and wash my hands in the sink. While I am enjoying being a heathen at her table by refusing to use utensils and a napkin, I always washed my hands with water after a meal, so it seems natural for me to do so now.

  I start to walk out of the kitchen when I'm done, but Moira's voice stops me. "We need to talk, Zach."

  Ignoring her, I continue toward my bedroom, but her voice halts me. "Please... just five minutes."

  There's something about her tone... it's tired sounding... laced with frustration. While there is a part of me that relishes it, a small part doesn't feel all that great because deep down, I know it was not her idea to bring me here. Her involvement is merely to help me, and I get that on some basic level. I decide to give her a tiny bit of something, so I turn around to look at her.

  She stares me in the eye, not between my legs, so I know she's serious. "We need to talk about the time you'll be spending here. We need to set some ground rules."

  Sighing, I walk back to the chair I just vacated and sit down, spreading my legs wide, laughing on the inside as she struggles to maintain eye contact with me. I know if I were to reach down and stroke myself, she'd never be able to keep her gaze on my face, but I don't do that. I'd rather just get this over with so I stare at her, waiting to see what bit of grief she'll give me now.

  "Zach... I know you don't want to be here," she says softly.

  "At last... we agree on something."

  "But you are here. You promised Paraila and, while I fully expect that you will return to your home one day, the truth of the matter is we will be spending a lot of time together. You should take advantage of this unique opportunity before you."

  "An opportunity I did not want, nor do I want," I affirm.

  "Yes, I know. But I also have a job to do, and that is to help you get readjusted to life here in America. Maybe if you told me what you'd like to learn, we can start there. I'll teach you anything you want to know."

  Her voice is filled with eagerness to get me on board, and I realize I have an opportunity of sorts facing me right now. She takes my lack of an immediate denial as permission to push forward.

  "Anything you want. We'll make it fun for you, and we can go slowly, or dive right in. Just let me know what you want to do, and I promise... we'll do it. You'll see... this can be an amazing experience if you just give it a chance."

  Poor, naive, deluded Moira. She has no clue what she is offering me.

  "Anything?"
I ask with skepticism.

  "Yes... there's so much for us to see and do, but we'll start with whatever appeals to you the most. We can go out to eat in restaurants, visit the museums in Chicago, or go to the zoo. How about the library? Books galore and you can read until you're sick of it. But I just want you to give this a chance."

  I smile at her... a slow, lazy, almost evil smile. "Okay. I'll give this a chance, and I know what I want to learn about first."

  She leans forward in her chair with excitement. "Excellent. Lay it on me."

  "I want to learn about sex. The way you do it here in the modern world."

  Moira blinks at me stupidly, giving a slight shake to her head like she didn't understand what I just said. "Excuse me? You want to learn about sex?"

  "Yes."

  "But... but... you already know how to have sex," she says with confusion.

  I push up and lean forward in my chair, so my face is just inches from her. My voice is low and humming with a slightly raw edge. "Yes, I do. You've seen me at my finest. But I want to learn about how you modern people have sex. It's quite different, right?"

  She swallows hard, and I see a glint of fear in her eyes. "Yes, it's different. But I don't think--"

  "You asked what I wanted and I just told you. If you teach me about how civilized people have sex, I'll play along with your little game of immersing myself in this new culture. In fact, I'll even try to behave according to your general customs if it makes you happy."

  Moira eyes me for a moment, and I can see the wheels spinning in her head. Finally, she gives me a slow nod and says, "Okay... I accept your--"

  I push out of the chair quickly, the second I hear her capitulation. Reaching my hand behind her neck, I pull her up into a standing position. She doesn't hesitate; her eyes just flare wide with surprise.

  "Let's get started then," I tell her just as I lean my nose in to her neck and inhale her sweet perfume. I pull away, noting the glazed look for a brief moment, and then I put pressure on her neck, pushing her down to the ground. "Get on your knees."

  Her body starts to slide downward to do my bidding, and I immediately start to get hard at the image of her kneeling before me. I didn't think she'd give in this easy, and my inner dominant starts sparking hard.