Page 52 of Savage Vicious Heir: Part Two

By some miracle, I must eventually drift off because I startle when Abi attempts to slip from my hold.

“No,” I grunt, my grip tightening.

“I need the bathroom,” she whispers, her fingers dancing over my arm before peeling my hand from her.

I groan in frustration, irritated at myself. Our time is over, and I fell asleep and missed some of it.

Knowing I can’t keep her here forever, I finally relent and allow her out of bed. With the sun streaming through the window, I watch her pad through my room wearing only my Saints rugby shirt, my dick aching painfully beneath the sheets.

My body burns up and I throw the covers off as the sounds of the Chapel waking up around us fill the air.

The start of a new day should bring the promise of hope, of new beginnings, and all that.But all I feel is dread.

Dread and desire.

Reaching out, I squeeze my dick through my boxers, praying it’ll be enough to squash the ache but already knowing it’s not.

But it’s hopeless.

I smother a moan as it jerks hopefully, desperately.

I’m so lost in my own head that I don’t hear the bathroom door open, or her step out. I damn sure feel the second she turns her gaze on me though.

The fire that was burning through me turns into an uncontrolled inferno the second our eyes lock.

“Red,” I breathe, pushing myself up so I’m resting against the headboard, not bothering to cover up how my body reacts to her.

I want her to see. I want her to understand how badly I need her.

Her eyes drop down my body. They get darker with every inch she takes in until her breath catches.

Precum spills from my tip as I let my mind run away with me, imagining her crawling on the bed between my feet, curling her fingers around my boxers and dragging them down my legs and?—

“You were the best head of my life,” I blurt like an imbecile.

Her cheeks blaze as red as her hair. I fucking love it.

“Elliot, y-you can’t say?—”

“It’s true,” I assure her, cutting off her argument.

“Well…” She fidgets on the spot, clearly not knowing what to do.

She still wants me, I felt it in her touch, in her kiss, in the way her body responded to me.

It’s her head that’s the problem.

I get it. I really fucking do. But I want her more.

Throwing my legs over the edge of the bed, I stalk towards her.She takes a step back, but quickly discovers that an escape is futile because all she achieves is bumping into the wall behind her.

Abi gasps, but I don’t make the most of the opportunity like I should, instead, I slide my hand to her throat, holding gently as her pulse flutters against my fingertips.

“W-what are you doing?” she asks, her wide eyes bouncing between mine.

“I’m not going to kiss you again,” I confess, hating every single syllable in that sentence.

Kissing her is all I want to do. But this isn’t about me. It’s about her.

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