Page 24 of Wicked Savage

I blink away the sudden mist in my eyes, trying to push the thoughts aside.

“It’s just that my friends are here,” I tell him. “And we all came in my limo, so I should probably get them home.”

His knuckles graze my cheek, and I feel the weight of his gaze, heavy and unhurried. “That’s too bad.”

The heat of his hand leaves a warm trail on my skin, spreading through me, making everything feel hazy and…dangerous.

“The more you touch me, the harder it is to leave.” My words are barely above a whisper, filled with something I can’t name. “But I really should get up.”

I prop my chin on my palm, looking down at him. He’s sprawled out, so impossibly relaxed, and I don’t wanna leave.

This is just sex. Don’t get any ideas.

“Thanks for the…well, you know.”

“The fucking?” He grins, his smirk devilish and confident, and my stomach flips.

He’s infuriatingly charming, and the way he watches me, like he’s already unraveled every part of me, knocks the breath from my lungs. Add in that rugged, rough-edged sex appeal, and it’s ridiculous how easily he checks every one of my boxes.

But it doesn’t matter. This was great, but that’s all it was.

My heart betrays me, thudding against my ribs at the thought of never seeing him again.

You knew this would end before it even began, so stop pretending there’s a happily ever after in here somewhere.

I start to move, but his arm tightens around my back, pulling me closer again. “I’m not done with you yet.”

The warmth of his body is too much, and the world outside suddenly feels a little colder.

As he flips me beneath him, his mouth lowers to mine, so close I can almost feel his lips. A growl escapes from deep in his chest when I grind my hips into his.

“What do you plan to do to me now?” I nip his bottom lip, and he grunts, making me want to stay right here for the rest of my life.

“So many things…” His fingers slither between us until they land over my core, still throbbing with an ache from how roughly he took me.

“Oh God, I can’t… It’s too much.”

“You can take it.” He thrusts harder while his thumb plays with my clit, lips skimming over mine. “Just one more. Come on my hand one more time. Let me feel this tight cunt squeeze my fingers again before I let you go.”

He doesn’t give me a choice, plunging deep with a wild intensity, his gaze locked on me until I shatter beneath him.

“Cillian!” The strongest orgasm rolls over me, and I don’t know what’s happening.

“Shit, look at you squirting for me, love.” His piercing gaze burns with radiating heat before his mouth crashes over my lips, consuming my cries of pleasure. Consuming everything I give.

He kisses me like it’s the last time. Like he’ll never have the chance to touch me, taste me, feel me again. And as the rush fades, a wave of sadness crashes over me, settling deep in my chest.

What the hell is happening? Why should I care if I ever see him again? He’s just a random guy.

Who gave you the best orgasms you’ll probably have in your life.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, grabbing the back of my head and pinning his forehead to mine. “I can’t get you out of my system. If I was a bastard, I’d fuck you again, but I’ll save that for next time.”

Next time? He thinks there will be a next time? Then what? We ride off into the sunset together? The thought is laughable.

His semi-hard cock rubs against my center, and my need for him builds, like a fire crackling with that first spark.

No, this is ridiculous. There's no reason for me to get attached to some random guy I met at a club. He may even know Konstantin.

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