Page 112 of Savage

He shoots up from the couch, towering over me as he grabs my shoulder with his vice grip. “What do you mean you’re fuckin’ done? I haven’t wasted all this time trying to straighten your bitch arse out just to have you—”

“Tank!” I say, so frustrated I could punch him in the face. He’s so fucking bull-headed. “Will you shut up? Please?”

“Don’t you tell me to shut up, bitch. I put myself on the fuckin’ line for you with my Prez, and if you think I’m going to let—”

I don’t punch him in the face, but I do the next best thing. I swing my arm back and hurl the pills at him. “God, you’re such an arsehole. Don’t you think that if I wanted to take them, I would have in the bathroom just now?”

“Why the fuck didn’t you? Huh?”

“Because, you jackarse, I didn’t want to. I took the pills from your mother, and she was the first person besides you who’s ever been nice to me. I can’t take them. I don’t want to take them.” Tank arches a brow, and I clarify, “I want to take them. Right now I’m considering getting down on my hands and knees and tearing your lounge room apart until I find them, but I can’t take them because it means stealing from her and disappointing you. And for some unexplained reason, I don’t want that.”

“What are you saying?” Tank glares down at me. His eyes are hard and unyielding, and I can’t say I blame him after all the times I’ve put him through shit like this.

“I’m saying you don’t have to fight for me any longer, because I’m … I’m fighting for myself.”

“Well good. ’Bout fuckin’ time,” he says, and the momentary glimpse of happiness and pride I saw in his face disappears as quickly as it came. Tank looks away, and I press a hand to the centre of his solid chest. He glances down at me. Our eyes meet, and I feel his heart beneath my palm, steady and strong, so much like the man who owns it.

He’s everything I need, and nothing I want. He’s good for me, but I’m not good for him. I should cut my losses.

I should do a lot of things that I don’t.

I slide my hand up his chest, over the coarse hair of his beard, and I tilt his chin down to me as I stand on tippy-toes and lean in. Tank’s eyes search mine. His lips are so close, and I can taste the coffee on his breath. I inch forward until our lips are touching, but too quickly he pulls back.

“You sure you want this? ’Cause I gotta tell ya, babe, I wanna fuck you so bad my balls are blue. You got no idea how much I want to touch you, but I don’t want a pity fuck, and I don’t want you to fuck me out of obligation.”

I sigh and shove him hard in the chest. It completely catches him off-guard, and he loses his balance, falling back onto the couch with a grunt. I climb onto his lap and wrap my arms around his thick shoulders. “I’m lonely. I’m tired of making bad decisions, and this may be just another one, but it doesn’t feel like it. I don’t have anything to give you but me, Jonah, so if that’s not enough—”

“Did that coke kill your brain cells, babe?” he asks, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s enough; trust me, it’s fuckin’ more than enough. All I’ve ever wanted was you.”

I won’t make promises I can’t keep, and I won’t lie about going into this without reservations, so I don’t say anything more. Instead, I press my lips to his and I feel him open to me. His tongue pushes into my mouth, hungry and seeking, probing. I grasp the sides of his face and kiss him like I’m starving, like I want to devour him the way his hands and lips and heart are consuming me.

Tank grabs my hips and rocks me back and forth in his lap. His cock is long and hard against his leathers, and just the feel of it pushing up against me has my pussy begging for more as we move with one another.

I unfasten his zip and slide my hand inside his pants, stroking the velvet length. I want badly to feel that curved cock hitting all of the right spots inside me, his wide head stretching me open as I come. I want him to bruise, to hurt, and to punish. I want him to fuck me so hard that I feel that soreness and think of him every time I move for the next two days. And as though he can sense all this, as though he knows how badly I need it, he pulls away and says, “Get on the coffee table. On all fours.”

I clamber to my feet and unfasten my jeans, sliding them down my hips and stepping out of them in a hurry. “Shirt too. I wanna see those fuckin’ awesome tits.”

I remove my shirt and bra, tossing them behind me. I stand completely naked before him while he’s still partially clothed, his dick jutting out proudly as he strokes it. He tilts his chin at me. “The table, babe.”

I eagerly scramble onto it, silently begging him to shove inside me, but he lowers himself to the floor, and I feel his warm breath on my pussy.

“Fuck me, Tank,” I plead. Just moments ago his eyes had promised me everything I wanted, but this was not it.Where is the hard pounding? The pain? The release?

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, and his tongue darts out to taste me. I flinch and move my hips away from him.

I can do pressure on my clit; I can handle anything any man has ever tried to give me, but the one thing I can’t do, the one thing that destroys me is pleasure without pain. I know it’s fucked up. I know I sound like I belong in some skeezy BDSM novel, but it is what it is. I’ve never let any man touch me without begging them to make it hurt.I need it to hurt.

Tank knows that. He’s always known that. I’ve never been able to separate pure pleasure from that part of me that needs to be hurt. So the fact that Tank is trying again to break me of that, well, it not only pisses me off, but it feels like a knife to the gut.

“Tank,” I beg. He wraps an arm around my hips and holds me like a vice. I can’t move. I squirm against him, but he won’t let me go. Without warning, he drives two thick fingers inside me. It hurts, and I breathe easier, especially once he starts thrusting them in and out of me in a brutal punishing rhythm. I close my eyes and lose myself in the sound and feel of his slick fingers working against my body.

When I’m close, he stops pumping all together. He slides them out of me and the arm pinning me in place loosens a little as his fingers gently stroke my clit. I buck against him, away from him, and though I can feel my orgasm building, I don’t want it like this.I can’t have it like this. My body disagrees completely, and as he buries his head in my pussy, eating me out as though he’s famished, licking me from back to front, and stroking my clit with attentive fingers, I come undone. Pleasure, heady and intense, smacks into me. I lose myself completely.

Tank keeps up his gentle pressure, licking and sucking until a second orgasm sluices through me, and it’s too much. I can’t deal with the sensations in my body, and the idea that they’re caused not by pain but from pleasure alone.

Hot tears trail down my cheeks and I close my eyes. I twist and grab his head from behind, holding him in position as I ride out the agonising high.

Tank gets to his feet, and I think finally he’s going to fuck me, that he’ll drive into me and fuck me senseless right here on the table, and that we can forget whatever the hell that was, but he doesn’t fuck me. Of course, he doesn’t. He takes hold of my waist and lifts me from the table, setting me on my feet. Slowly, I turn and face him. His beard is covered with my juices, and while a part of me wants to lick it off, I lower my head and lean into his body. I can’t look at him. If I do, I’m afraid he’ll see something in me, something that tells him he can continue to treat me with tenderness, and that isn’t at all what I want. It isn’t—

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