Page 30 of Savage Proposal

I nearly swallowed my tongue. “What are you doing?”

Isabella grabbed my hands and placed them on her thighs, just under her dress. I skimmed them upward, unable to help myself. She shivered when my hands settled on her hips, and I realized that they were bare.

“You didn’t put on panties.”

“I took them off in the coffee shop.”

My cock was already starting to chub up, and I squeezed her hips in my hands, drawing a soft sound from her throat. “That’s slut behavior,dolcezza.”

She shivered; I could feel goose bumps on her skin. “You’ve made me like this,” she complained. “I was perfectly fine hating you, and then you go and do this, and—” She wiggled against me, needy now. “I hate how badly I still want you.”

I slipped a hand between us, sliding my finger through her wet folds. Isabella groaned, and I pulled my finger away and broughtit to my mouth. I sucked it clean of her juices and watched her eyes dilate as she stared at me. “You taste so fucking good.”

She went for the zipper on my jeans, and with deft hands, she pulled out my cock. Leaning up on her knees in the cramped space, she maneuvered me until my crown was pressed against her, and then she sank down. We both made a sound as her tight walls gave way to me. “Why does that feel so good?” she whined, hips twitching.

I put my hands back on her hips, guiding her to rock against me. She caught the rhythm, breath catching in her throat as her inner muscles spasmed around me. “Just make yourself come,dolcezza,” I told her, groaning when she ground down against me. “That’s all that matters right now.”

CHAPTER 19

Lorenzo

Isabella shook through an orgasm. Her fingers were gripping my shirt so tightly I thought she might rip it. Not that I minded. She could tear as many of my shirts as she wanted, so long as she did it while coming on my cock.

She leaned forward, panting, and pressed her face against my neck. “You didn’t finish,” she said into my collar.

I chuckled, and it came out a deep rumble. “You think I’m done with you,dolcezza?” I pressed my lips to the crown of her head. “We haven’t even begun.” I took hold of her hips again. “Bounce on it,” I told her. “Get yourself off again.”

Isabella shook her head, even as she worked herself up and down, taking my cock even more deeply into her pussy. I could feel her dripping. I imagined her leaving a stain on my jeans, and I swear I got even harder inside of her.

“Lorenzo,” she mewled, head tossed back. Her tits bounced as she rode me, and I wanted to see her do this naked.

“Need help to get there again?” I asked, taunting her gently. “Can’t be a good girl and come just like this?”

She shook her head. “Help,” she murmured, eyebrows scrunched together as she tried to bounce harder.

I tightened the grip I had on her, slowing her movements. “No, please,” she moaned pitifully. “I need?—”

“I know what you need,dolcezza.” I planted my feet as best I could and thrusted upward, harder and faster than she was able to do on her own. Isabella nearly screamed as her muscles contracted around me, wringing the orgasm out of me with a groan against her hair.

She shivered, eyes closed. “I can feel it.”

“What’s that?”

Her eyes slit open. “You coming in me.”

“You didn’t seem to be complaining when you climbed on top of me.”

“I wasn’t,” she said. “I’m not.” Isabella flushed. “I like being full of you.”

I couldnotget hard again that fast. I pulled her in so she could lean against my chest, making sure not to pull out. When she wiggled, I gripped her. “Just sit here like this,” I said. “Keep me warm for a minute.”

Isabella shivered, but she settled all the same. It was an interesting feeling, being inside someone when I wasn’t fully hard, and it was far too intimate, but I held her so she wasn’t looking at my face. That’s where things went wrong the last time; I spent too much time staring at her and comparing her to Sienna. Instead, I ran my hand up and down her thigh, and then slid upward so that my palm ran into the scars on her side.

She flinched. “Don’t.”

I ran my hand over it anyway, as gently as I could manage. “How did this happen?” When she refused to say anything, I took her hand and led it under my shirt, moving her fingers to touch over my multitude of scars. “All of these happened during fights,” I told her. I led her to touch the circular wound on my right pec. “I got shot when I was sixteen and nearly died.” I trailed her hand down to the ropey scar that cut across my abdominals. “A baseball bat ruptured my spleen, and I had emergency surgery done by a doctor at the casino. He owed my father money and kept me alive, but he wasn’t exactly careful when he stitched me back up.”

I let go of her hands, and they stilled against my chest, but she didn’t pull them away. “I was eighteen,” she said, nearly whispering. Her eyes were incredibly interested in my collarbone. “Some men broke into my apartment while I was asleep.” She took a breath, and it shuddered back out. I didn’t have to see her eyes to know they’d be wet with tears. “They dragged me out of bed to my bathroom and held me down on the floor. I don’t remember much after that except so much pain that I threw up, and then I thought I heard a man praying, but I can’t be sure that was real.” She pressed herself so firmly against me I thought she might be trying to embed herself in my skin. For once, that thought didn’t make my stomach cramp. Instead, I ran a hand over her hip and down her thigh and back. Not a sexual touch, just a comforting one.

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