Page 19 of His Savage Sweet

Anna’s thick auburn hair was flowing down her back in a cascade of curls, with some kind of tiny white flower woven throughout. She was holding a bouquet of ivy and white roses…and she was wearing the dress. The dark green silk which matched her eyes; the one I’d picked out. The one she’d worn last night; the one which showed off her stunning tits to perfection.

Was she wearing anything under it? I sure as shite hoped not.

I didn’t know why had she chosen it, instead of something more traditional. Perhaps she didn’t have any other gowns?

I didn’t care about the reasoning; she was fooking intoxicating, fooking delicious, and I swore I could taste her cinnamon sugar on my lips.

The wedding was…well, how the hell should I know? I wasn’t paying attention to any of it. All I could concentrate on was the feeling of Anna’s arm in mine, her body pressed against my side. The knowledge that in a few short hours, I’d have her in my bed.

We didn’t even make it that far. Matushka had arranged a party—a feast, likely, knowing her—but I lost all interest in it after the priest said I could kiss Anna.

I grabbed her face in my rough palms, pressed my lips to hers…and completely lost track of time, place, and company. When one of my brothers clapped me on the shoulder and pulled me out of that kiss, Anna’s flowers were on the altar, her hands were up under my jacket, and I was this close to tugging down her neckline so her tits would fall out in front of everyone.

To hell with that.

I grabbed her hand, nodded to my parents, and dragged her back up the aisle, thanking God there was no one else in the chapel besides my family. A big affair like Rickard’s wedding would’ve made it hard to escape, but I was determined.

Judging by Anna’s flushed cheeks and panting breaths—sweet holy fook, her tits did nice things when she breathed like that—she agreed.

I took her to my suite.

I’d lived here my entire life, and had never taken a woman here. I’d fooked plenty, but always elsewhere. Now Anna was my wife, we could make love anywhere we damn well pleased…but we were going to start here.

I pulled her through the thick oak doorway and slammed it closed behind her. The next moment, her arms were around me, and her tongue was doing all sorts of things to mine.

We stumbled slightly, falling back against the door, and her head would’ve smacked the wood if my hand hadn’t been behind it, protecting her. As it was, the impact drove her tits against my chest and I groaned from the pleasure of it.

Me jerking my own cock last night apparently hadn’t helped matters; I was about to cum all over the inside of this blasted suit.

“Anna,” I gasped out around her lips. “Anna, I need to get ye naked, or I’m going to fook ye up against this door.”

As genteel warnings went, it left a lot to be desired. She grinned and reached up to tug at the neckline of that gorgeous gown. Just like last night, she wore nothing beneath it, thank Christ. Just like last night, her tits came tumbling out in the most wonderful, gravity-defying bounce.

Then she reached for me, and I was stunned—and turned on even more—when I heard a rip, and realized she was holding my necktie. She was as strong as I was and met me head-on.

She wasn’t one to stand there submissively and let me fook her, and that’s why I loved her.

That, and the way she smiled wickedly when she said, “Ye first.”

Chapter 9

Anna

Making love up against the door sounded fine to me! Wulf—my husband, I kept reminding myself incredulously—was just as desperate as I was, and I was fairly desperate.

But first things first: he’d seen me topless and bottomless, and I’d never seen anything more than his impressive cock and gorgeous forearms.

I needed him naked. Now.

Dropping his ripped bowtie—sorry no’ sorry—I grabbed his jacket and pushed it over his shoulders. He smiled wickedly and helped pull the thing off. Before it had even hit the floor I’d gone to work on the stupid little buttons on his shirt, but I couldn’t seem to make my fingers work.

With a chuckle, he pushed my hands out of the way, grabbed both sides of the shirt, and ripped the whole thing down the middle. I laughed too—not purely in joy, but at the sight of his bare chest.

Oh my God, but it was gorgeous.

He was gorgeous.

And he was all mine.

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