Page 72 of Savage

She arches into me, and I slide my hands underneath her back, all the way up to the nape of her neck. I trail kisses over her tits, up her neck and finally across her cheek to her mouth. She opens for me, allowing my tongue entrance. She kisses me back tentatively at first, then much faster, much harder. I grind my hips into the hollow created by her legs and pull away, unbuttoning her jeans and sliding the tight denim off thighs that are much fuller than they were when we first did this. She’s still slim, only now she’s got an arse I can dig my hands into and thighs that can squeeze my hips when I’m rocking back and forth inside her.

I remove my jeans and hurry out of them, climbing back on the bed. I position myself between her legs, lifting her hips with my hands beneath them, and then I lower my head to her cunt and lap at her clit. She slams her legs together—or at least, she tries to. Her effort is kind of hindered by my head between her thighs. Her hands wedge themselves between me and her pussy, and I glare up at her.

“You starve a man for six fuckin’ months, show him the all-you-can-eat buffet and then yank the rug out from under him, and close up shop before he even gets a taste?”

“Not that.” She shakes her head.

“Why not that?” I challenge.

“Because I don’t want you to see … I don’t—”

“I’ve already seen it, babe. Believe it or not but a man usually looks at a cunt before he sticks his dick inside it, especially one as perfect as yours.”

She closes her eyes and lets out a shaky breath. Then she sits up. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

“Lie the fuck down,” I order. “This is the best fuckin’ idea you’ve ever had. I don’t care what shit is goin’ on up in that pretty little head of yours, ignore it.”

“Ignore it?” she says, riling up again. “You want me to ignore what they di—”

I reach up and clamp my hand over her mouth to get her to shut the fuck up. “That shit has no place being mentioned in my bed.”

Her eyes grow wide and then narrow in fury.

“Woman, I haven’t been inside a pussy in over six months. I’m tellin’ ya to ignore whatever self-conscious bullshit is goin’ on in your head because your pussy is perfect, and right now I want a taste, and then I want inside of it. So stop fuckin’ talking, spitfire, let the fuck go, lay back and enjoy my mouth on you, ’cause I promise you’re gonna fuckin’ love it.”

She stares at me for a beat, this incredulous fucking expression on her face. “Lie. The. Fuck. Down,” I command.

Indie glares at me for another second before flopping back on the bed with an irritated huff. She can be as damn angry as she wants—don’t matter. I’m gonna eat out this fucking gorgeous pussy, and I’m gonna push into her, and take all night bringing her to the edge, and holding her back from falling if I want to, and there’s not a damn thing she can do about it. Maybe it won’t be today, or in another five years’ time, but I’m gonna make her forget that anyone but me ever laid a finger on her, and she’s gonna love every second of it.

Because I might be a fuck-up. And I might be a criminal, and I might be a worthless piece of shit, just like my dad always told me I was, but that never stopped me going after what I want. And like I told her at that café, she’s all I want.

Just her.

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