When my eyes raise back up to meet his, he surprises me by giving me a short nod of his head and scooting backward off the bed.

“Thank you, Moira. I learned a lot.”

My jaw drops as I watch him turn away and walk out of my bedroom, closing my door softly behind him.

Raising my hands up, I rub them over my face and groan in despair.

What in the hell did I just do?

Chapter 7

Zach

Even though I showered and spanked my monkey twice because I was so worked up over what I had done to Moira, I refused to brush my teeth before we left for dinner tonight because I wanted to keep her taste on my tongue.

She tasted better than anything I could have imagined, and I ached with violent need to f**k her after she came down from her orgasm.

But I promised her I wouldn’t, and besides that… when I take her, and I know for certain that I will, it’s going to be my way for the first time. With her bent over before me and my hand to her neck, pinning away any struggle that she might think to make.

Yes, I’ll only take her when I have her absolute submission and not before.

Moira looks like a scared rabbit when I emerge from my bedroom as we prepare to leave for dinner. She won’t look me directly in the eye, and my chest puffs up with pride. She is already on her way to submission, and she doesn’t even know it.

I casually take in what she’s wearing. After dinner, she said we are going to a nightclub where there will be dancing, and I’m assuming she is dressing the part.

She has on a teal blue dress that is tight across her entire body, plumping up her br**sts that I now know for a fact have the most beautiful, strawberry-tinged ni**les I ever could have imagined. My tongue aches to touch her there too, and I will in due time.

Her hair is in a fiery mass hanging loose down her back, and she has something on her lips that makes them look shiny. As shiny as her pu**y was when I descended on her this afternoon.

I’m finding I like my new vocabulary. Cock, pu**y, and f**k. My three new favorite English words.

I want to shove my c**k in her pu**y and f**k her hard.

Yes, I’m mastering this American slang well.

“You look beautiful,” I tell her, and her eyes rise to me in surprise. I’ve never said those words to another woman in my life. Never wanted to until this moment.

“Thank you,” she says quietly as she picks up her purse and searches inside for her keys. “Are you ready?”

“I am,” I tell her, following her out the door to her car.

Moira takes me to a small Italian restaurant not far from her house. She asks me if I had spaghetti as a child, and a distinct memory assaults me. I remember slurping noodles and the garlicky, tomato sauce.

After we give our choices from the menu to the waiter, Moira is uncharacteristically silent, and I’m guessing she’s suffering from regret over what she let me do to her. I don’t want her to drift away from the connection I’ve established though, because I have more stuff planned for her, so I try to get her back on track by giving in to her need to teach me about the modern culture.

“I don’t remember much about what my parents did outside of their missionary work, but I seem to remember my mom was home with me all the time, while my dad worked. I’m thinking she didn’t work outside the home.”

Moira takes a sip of her water and nods. “Randall told me your mom was a stay-at-home mother. Her job was to take care of you.”

“Much like the women of Caraica,” I muse. “Their job is to take care of the children, our homes, and the men.”

“Yes, but the difference is, here in America, your mom could have easily worked if she wanted to. She had opportunity to do whatever she wanted.”

“You are a good example of a modern woman,” I tell her thoughtfully. “You hold a position of prestige and you teach others. You earn money for your work, and that enables you to bring home food for your table. But that is akin to a Caraican woman going out on the hunt with the men, and that’s still a hard concept for me to understand.”

Finally, Moira seemed to ease into the conversation with a light laugh. “I could spend weeks teaching you all about the struggles of women in our society to strive for the same equal rights as men. We still don’t have them… not completely. It’s always still a fight.”

I nod thoughtfully. “Maybe my tribe’s way has some merit. There’s simplicity in it, don’t you think? Everyone has a role, and no one seeks more. There are no expectations to fail, no aspirations to crush. Everyone works cohesively for the common good of the tribe.”

“It’s a very good way to live,” Moria agrees with a smile. “Now tell me, after having been away for a few weeks, tell me what you miss most about your home.”

Closing my eyes, I think back to the Amazon. “I miss many things. The vibrancy of color, the perfume of flowers that bloom year round, the excitement of the hunt, and the heavy moisture in the air that soothed my lungs.” I pause briefly, giving her a sinful smile. “I miss Tukaba’s body and being able to pound away within her whenever I wanted.”

Moira’s lips turn downward at that, but no sense in lying. I haven’t had sex in over two weeks, and I most definitely miss Tukaba’s complete willingness to submit to me whenever I wanted.

I continue. “But most of all, I miss Paraila. I’d give up every bit of those things I just told you I missed, if I could be back at his side again. He was my father… my teacher… my protector for so long, because the tribe didn’t accept me at first. He saved my life on more than one occasion, and he made me the man I am today. Yes, I miss Paraila the most.”