Page 31 of Filthy Savage

My tongue slides across my bottom lip, and I sink my teeth into the inside of my cheek as I watch him, waiting for his answer.

“The blood of a man who thought he could betray the club and betray your brother.”

My breath hitches at his words. “The blood of the man who put my brother in jail?” I ask on a whisper.

“Yeah, beautiful.”

He reaches out, gripping my waist before he backs me up toward the bed. The backs of my knees hit the side of the bed. They bend, and my ass lands on the mattress with a bounce. Tilting my head back, I look up into his eyes.

Brew cups my cheek, his thumb sliding across my bottom lip as he looks directly into my eyes. He’s so beautiful. I don’t understand how this man can look at me the way he does. Like I’m something special. Like I’m anything at all.

Lifting my hands, I grip his belt buckle and begin to unfasten it. “Spencer,” Brew growls as I slowly slide the zipper down, the sound of the teeth unzipping filling the room.

“Brew,” I exhale.

“No,” he grinds out. “Evan.”

Blinking, I look up at him and suck in a breath. Evan Hughes. Why does that name sound so damn hot? Like scorching. I imagine whimpering that name as he makes me come, and I have to squeeze my thighs together because I want that—now.

Shoving his pants down his hips, I free him. Then I lean forward slightly, part my lips, and touch them to the head of his dick. Evan moans. I do, too, mainly because I thought of his name again. Like a silly schoolgirl because, apparently, being around him makes me feel seventeen again.

He groans and grips the back of my neck, his fingers clenching my hair. “Take me,” he demands.

It’s sexy as shit.

I want to do just that. In fact, I would do just about anything right now. This man, covered in drying blood or not, is the sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my entire life. There has been nobody who could ever compare to him.

His long, thick length is hard and ready, waiting for me. I open my mouth wider, my eyes focused on his. I lean forward and take him as far down my throat as I can. He gently thrusts his hips, his cock moving deeper down my throat.

Relaxing, I grip his hips as he begins to move. His fingers continue to clutch the strands of my hair at the back of my head. Then he holds my hair tighter, keeping me still as he begins to move in and out of me.

“Fuck,” Evan hisses. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Spencer.”

His words come out on a whispered breath as he climbs closer and closer toward his release.

Whimpering, I can’t keep my eyes off his.

They’re connected and focused.

I want him to kiss every inch of my body. I want him to slide inside of me. It would be easy. I am so wet I can’t even think—I know my panties are soaked, and my pants are likely, too.

He pulls himself out of my mouth, releasing his grasp on my hair, and takes a step backward. I whimper again, but this time because I inwardly mourn the loss of him. He smiles down at me, his eyes searching mine.

“Are you wet?” he asks.

Hot.

So damn hot.

“Soaking,” I whisper.

His lips twitch into a smirk. I watch as he kicks off his boots and jeans. He slides his cut off and tosses it onto the top of the dresser behind him. Then he reaches behind his shoulders and tugs off his shirt.

Evan is naked in front of me, and my mouth goes dry at the sight of him. If I thought he was sexy a decade ago, that has absolutely nothing on him now. His muscles have at least doubled. They are stacked and then stacked a little more. There is no way he’s the age he is, no way in hell that he’s over forty. He looks better than most guys in their twenties.

“Take everything off. Show me all of you.”

I want to do that. I want to show him every square inch of me. I want to spread every part of my body that can be spread just so I can show him how good I can be for him—giving him everything he desires.

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