Page 59 of Savage Games

He cupped my jaw, moving the pad of his thumb over my lower lip.

His voice was a low growl. “Would you like that?” He pushed his thumb between my lips. “Would you like me to force you to open these pretty lips and swallow my cock deep down your throat, here and now on this altar? My little sacrificial bird.”

My hand reached up to clasp his wrist. My small fingers barely wrapping around it as he pushed his thumb in deeper. I could taste blood as my lip ground against the sharp edge of my teeth.

My only response was a soft whimper.

Rubbing his wet thumb over my lips, he ran his mouth along my jawline before rasping in my ear, “If I were to put my hand between your legs, would my naughty girl be wet for me?”

“Oh, God!” I moaned.

“That’s right, baby. I’m your god now. You are my creation. My corrupted innocent and I won’t let you go… ever.”

His mouth claimed mine. Driving his tongue between my lips, he devoured me. Stealing everything right down to the very breath from my body as his hands wrapped around my middle to pull me close. I could feel the heat and power of his body as it pressed along every inch of mine.

His hands crept under my Chanel dress to grasp my ass, pushing my hips forward to rub against his cock. To my own ears, it sounded as if my groan echoed around the hallowed halls of the cathedral.

Pulling back, Richard placed his arm beneath my knees and swept me into his arms. As he carried me down the aisle, he said, “The moment we get home, I will sink my cock deep into your tight little ass till you scream for mercy.”

Oh, God.

Passing a startled and red-faced Mr. Simmons, Richard nodded.

Mr. Simmons bowed his head and called out to our retreating backs, “Thank you, Your Grace. See you tomorrow.”

Furrowing my brow, I looked up at Richard as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

“What’s tomorrow?”

The corner of Richard’s mouth quirked up as his gaze gleamed. “Our wedding day.”

CHAPTER 20

LIZZIE

Our wedding day.

This wasn’t happening.

Nothing had seemed real.

Everything around me was chaos.

Last night, after Richard had used my body in more ways than I could count and we both lay sated and spent in bed, I had asked him if he was kidding about it being our wedding tomorrow.

He wasn’t.

After the incident at the dressmakers and based on some additional intelligence he received about the woman making the threats, who he still refused to discuss with me, he had decided it was safer for me if we married as soon as possible.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about any of this. On one hand, I had a gorgeous, amazingly intense man who loved me with a passion and was so eager to make me his bride he moved mountains to make it happen as soon as possible. On the other hand, I had a man who technically never asked me to marry him. Thinking back, I was more told we were getting married and instead of involving me in any of the decisions, he had made them all… even to the point of not telling me our wedding date till the night before!

What really irked me was that all of his decisions were, of course, perfect, from the flowers, to the music, to my gown. I wouldn’t change anything. Begrudgingly, I had to admit the man knew me inside and out.

Damn him.

He had also rightfully pointed out I would have probably found the entire process stressful and overwhelming with all the royal protocols that had to be followed. That was the problem with Richard. Whenever I had an issue with him, he always had an excellent reason, usually with my welfare in mind, as to why he acted or did something heavy-handed and domineering.

So here I was, staring at my reflection in an ancient oval mirror in some tucked away antechamber in Westminster Abbey, wondering how the hell I had gotten to this point.

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