Page 52 of Savage Hate
“I like it when you boss me around,” he says roughly, his voice uneven and hoarse. I open my lips to respond, but he places a hand over my mouth. “It brings me back to the good old days.” He’s in so deep as he speaks that I gasp into his hand. “But now it’s my turn to bossyouaround.”
Fire explodes inside of me as he thrusts into me harder. Ten seconds in, and I can already tell that I’m going to be sore tomorrow.
He begins to pound into me with the tempo of a very hungry man—a very hungry man who is now feasting on his chosen prey.
I’m no longer the one in control, I’ve relinquished it to Silas fucking Huxley.
And he’s not going to be gentle with me.
This is ten years’ worth—a lifetime’s worth—of tension.
He’s fucking me and getting his revenge at the same time. Perhaps it won’t always be this way, but today? Today, he is showing me just how much he’s in control now.
His hand comes up to my nipples, now rock hard and peeking through my thin tank top. He rolls one between his thumb and forefinger, and as he does, I feel myself clench around his shaft.
“That’s it,” he says, baring his teeth and making a low sound in the back of his throat. “You’re going to come for me, Lennon Rose.”
I shake my head.
He squeezes my nipple harder, and I cry out as my back arches. He continues to hammer me, hitting my cervix and scraping my back with every upward movement. I can feel myself flutter against him, feel myself grip onto him as the first wave of my climax plows through me unexpectedly. I move my hips with his, the sound of our arousal loud in the narrow stairwell. My hair sticks to the back of my neck, and my thighs begin to burn as the rest of my orgasm slowly moves through me.
“Fuck, Lennon,” he hisses. “I can feel you milking my cock.”
I close my eyes and he slows, extending the pleasure coursing through me, drawing it out of every muscle, every nerve ending. I’m spasming as he stops completely, and if I weren’t seeing stars, I would look down. I know he’s going to come, too. All I can manage to focus on is his face—mouth open, eyes hooded. His tongue hits his cheek and his eyes narrow as I feel him empty into me, his cock pulsing and dancing inside of me, expanding ever so slightly and turning into a steel rod. A slow, deep sound rumbles through him, and he twitches against my body, sighing as his forehead rests against mine once he stops.
He lowers me immediately, and before I can say anything, he drops to his knees and licks me down there, cleaning me up and wiping his mouth as he stands. My lips fall open, and I sag against the wall as he zips himself up. My legs are still shaking, and Silas smirks as he holds a hand out.
“Shall we?”
I nod weakly, knowing I’ll never be able to have normal sex again.
thirty
Lennon
By the time Silas drops me back at my apartment, I have just enough energy to shower and brush my teeth before I sleep the rest of the afternoon off. When I wake up, I have fifteen minutes before I need to be at work, so I quickly straighten my hair and apply a bit of makeup. Pulling on a pair of ripped jeans and a baggy black t-shirt, I grab my black booties and purse before heading down the stairs.
No one is at Savage yet, which is probably a good thing. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the last twenty-four hours.
The trip to New York, the back seat with Damon, the apartment with Silas…
And they want me tomove inwith them? I hardly know them–not really, anyway. Our families raised us in this same suffocating town, but that doesn’t make us the same. They have rivalries, enemies, and they do some really bad things–like drugging people and tattooing them against their will. That’s the kind of stuff you can go to jail for.
No, I need my own place first.
A space to get my bearings.
I sit behind the desk and log into the scheduling program, my eyes roving over the schedule for the night. In the two weeks since I’ve been working here, I have yet to see a break in their nights. They arebusy, and their clientele are chomping at the bit to be tattooed by them. When I log into their Instagram account, I see nearly two-thousand more followers since earlier this week. I squint at the screen, going through their old photos, when Jude walks into the studio.
“Hi,” I say without looking up.
“Why are you looking at the phone like you’re about to throw it against the wall?”
I huff a laugh. “You guys gained nearly two thousand new followers recently. I’m just trying to figure out why…”
Jude walks around to my side of the desk, taking my phone from me as he scrolls through the account. He makes a tsking noise and hands it back, and my mouth drops open at what I see.
“Church of the Rapture?” I whisper, looking at the post. It’s a picture of the front of Savage Ink, and below it…
