Page 146 of Savage Hearts
It goes all the way through me.
I feel him pulse and throb and listen to his beautiful husky groans of pleasure, and something unlocks inside the center of my chest.
The moment feels powerfully significant. I have to fight the sudden urge to cry.
We stay like that, locked together, panting and shaking, untilMal rubs his beard gently against my neck. He exhales, squeezing me tight.
He murmurs something in Russian. It’s achingly soft. I don’t ask what it is.
I’m overwhelmed enough already.
When the car pulls into the parking garage at Mal’s building, I’m snuggled in his lap with the jacket of his suit over my shoulders and his arms wrapped around me. I feel boneless, like Jell-O, and high.
My torn dress covered by his jacket, he carries me to the elevator as I rest my head against his chest. Even with my eyes closed, I know the men in suits are bowing as we pass.
He doesn’t speak on the ride up. He stays silent as he carries me into the bedroom. When he lays me down on the bed and undresses me, he still doesn’t utter a word.
He kneels next to the bed, throws my legs over his shoulders, and puts his face between my thighs. Running his hands up and down my naked body, he lavishes my clit with his tongue. I arch and moan, shivering in pleasure.
I get the feeling I’m being rewarded.
When my cries are loud and I’m nearing climax, he turns his head and bites my thigh.
He whispers, “You said ‘relationship.’”
Delirious, panting, I say, “What?”
He glances up at me. In the shadows, his eyes glitter with intensity. “You said kidnapping wasn’t a good way to start a relationship, but it would make a great story.”
Holding my gaze, he lowers his head and sucks gently on my clit.
My uterus contracts. My nipples tingle. The room feels like it’s on fire.
“Oh, god—Mal—oh—”
He whispers, “Is that what you think we have? A relationship? Because it feels more like an obsession to me. A compulsion. A knot too tangled to be unwound.”
He goes back to sucking, adding a finger and pumping it slowly in and out.
When I moan loudly, he drags me to the edge of the bed so my ass is hanging off. He supports my bottom with both hands as he eats me, going back and forth between licking my clit and thrusting his tongue inside me the way he likes to do, fucking me with it.
I dig both hands into his hair and rock my hips against his face, not caring about the sounds I’m making or the way my heart feels like it’s cracking in two.
I can honestly say I don’t care about anything anymore. Except him.
Us.
This dark and powerful thing we have together that feels as final as death.
When I climax, it’s with his name on my lips.
He hums his approval into my flesh as I buck and thrash against the bed. I scratch his scalp and pull his hair, totally out of control from the pleasure he’s giving.
When I come back to myself and am lying there quivering and spent, he’s chuckling.
He rises and unbuttons his shirt. Gazing down at me with a lazy smile, he says in a husky voice, “Good girl.”
Whimpering, I roll to my side and bury my face in the duvet.
