Page 31 of Savage King

Her eyes grow wide. "Really? Do you really think so?"

I let out a dry laugh. "Trust me, Scarlet, this is my world, and I know a thing or two about it. Carlos had a hit out on you, and there was nothing short of living in a bunker surrounded by an army you could have done to avoid it."

I’m not prepared for the relief in her eyes, but it’s there, clear as day. She moves forward and throws her arms around me, saying, "Thank you."

Fuck, her breasts are pressed against me, her hair is tickling my nose, and her warmth hits me, as does her sweet scent. This is a different embrace from the one before. Before, I was focused on soothing her; now, I'm justawareof her. My dick is already rock hard, again. I could live with it if it were just that, but there's more. I want her, but not only in a sexual way. I want more from her. So much more.

She kisses my cheek. My fucking cheek. I'm not her fucking brother. I growl, "Scarlet."

Her eyelids flutter, and that's all the invitation I need. A second growl rumbles inside my chest when I slide my hand up her back to tangle my fingers in her beautiful hair. I tilt her head the last few inches forward, claiming her like I was always meant to. The moment our lips meet, control becomes a razor-thin edge. The urge to own her, to devour her, is a fire roaring in my veins. But Scarlet isn’t like the women I’ve toyed with before—she isn’t a game to be played and discarded. So instead of taking, instead of shoving my tongue deep and staking my claim, I tease. I brushmy lips over hers, my tongue barely tracing the seam, coaxing, demanding without force.

She whimpers—a soft, breathless sound that wrecks me. Her lips part in an unspoken plea, and her fingers fist my shirt, dragging me closer, as if she already knows I belong here. As if she’s already mine. And fuck me, she is.

The realization slams into me like a bullet to the chest. I was finished the second I saw her on that damn video. I thought I had taken her hostage, but the truth is, she’s the one who owns me.

She is mine. Mine to protect. Mine to keep. And God have mercy on anyone who tries to take her from me, because I won't.

So many emotionsswirl in my head, making me dizzy. Holding on to Antonio is the only thing grounding me right now, but at the same time, he's making me fly. A volcano of heat erupts in my core, spreads through me, and devours me just like his tongue is doing.

I wasn't prepared for a kiss, wasn't prepared for him, and yet it seems as if it was inevitable. His kisses push all thoughts of guilt and vengeance away. Strange sounds leave my throat, sounds I've never heard myself make before.

One of his hands is buried in my hair, pulling, massaging, pressing me closer to him. The other moves from my back to my hips, up my ribcage, and a deep, deep moan escapes me when his thumb brushes against the outline of my breast.

Inexperienced need grows as the furnace inside me keeps heating my blood. I want Antonio to cup my breast. I want him to…

His hands move lower and raise my shirt. Reluctantly, I let go of the death grip I have on his shirt and lift my arms so he can pull mine over my head; the next instant, my panties are gone, as well.

My heart hammers wildly in my chest as I'm laid bare in front of him. Dark, burning eyes peruse my torso leisurely. His tongue darts out, and he licks his lips as his gaze lands on my nipples, making them pucker and sending shivers of excitement through me. I want him to touch me.

"So fucking beautiful," he rasps. "You are like a fine piece of art." His hands move up, cup my breasts, and I lean forward to give him more access, throwing my head back to absorb the touch of his calloused hand on my skin. It feels so damn good.

Every knead of his hands on my flesh is torture and bliss at the same time. I want more, and yet I want him to continue exactly what he’s doing. His palms nudge my nipples, and the sensitive buds send out electrical currents running up and down my body, culminating in my clit and making it throb.

He leans forward, his mouth latches on to one nipple, and I about become undone as he sucks on it, teases it with his tongue, and nips lightly with his teeth. A sharp breath escapes me when he bites a little bit harder, my eyes fly open as sensations of pleasure play havoc with my already overstimulated nerves.

He laughs hoarsely, "You like that?"

His pointer finger and thumb replace his lips, and he pinches slightly. Fuck me, "Ahh," I moan.

"So fucking perfect," he grunts, claiming my mouth once again. He pushes me down on the bed, and my legs automatically open in invitation below him. Another deep chuckle escapes him, "So greedy. Are you wet for me?"

His hand moves between my legs, brushes up the inside of my thigh, leaving my flesh trembling in its wake. He cups my pussy.

"Fuck, you're drenched, my little passerotta. Tell me, are you this soaking wet for me?"

A mewl escapes me, my throat feels too tight to form a word.

"I need you to answer me, passerotta," he insists.

"Yes," I manage as his fingers move through my folds, parts them. I've never been this wet or ready for a man before. When the pad of his thumb brushes my clit, I'm ready to explode.

"Ah fuck, oh God." I belie my earlier thoughts that I'm incapable of uttering words.

"Hmm, tell me what to do with you, passerotta. Do you want to come on my mouth or my dick?"

Ah, hell, choices. Why the hell does he have to give me choices like that? I can't choose. I can't even think.

"Let me help you decide," he mumbles, his hot breath caressing my pussy. This need for him is beyond anything I've ever felt before. My legs part wider, and shudders of undiluted bliss rush through me when he blows against my clit. Then he pulls the little bud into his mouth, and memories of what he did to my nipple have me shuddering in anticipation.

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