Page 40 of Savage Guardian

She groaned, and he swallowed it.

He owned her.

Turning her, he pushed her back until she lay flush with the mattress, pinning her in place with his larger body. Much larger, harder body. It wasn’t a gentle movement, either. But he wasn’t a gentle man. He was a force of nature, manipulating her with his larger size and greater strength, and it was making her wetter. He was literally manhandling her—and she freaking loved it.

Breaking the kiss with a groan, Hawk removed his kutte and stood up from the bed to lay the leather over the chair in the corner. Once that was done, he turned back to her, his stunning gray gaze burning into her. She held her breath, watching him scorch every part of her with his eyes. Like he was taking inventory, so when he was done with her, he’d know which parts he’d shattered.

When his gaze landed on her breasts, he licked his lips. She barely held in a moan at the thought of him doing that with her aching nipples.

Something fierce and ancient came over his expression, as though he’d been possessed by a demon. Striding toward her, he planted his knees on the bed, straddling her, then gripped the bottom of her shirt, his intentions obvious.

“No, wait!” she cried, gripping the hem of her shirt to hold it in place.

He stopped, his chest heaving, and looked at her expectantly. “What is it?”

How could she tell him she didn’t want him to see her, that her body was nothing like Amelia’s or Carrie’s or any of the other beautiful, skinny women he’d been with before? She was chunky, her thighs touched, her boobs sagged, and her belly jiggled.

“Can-can we leave m-my shirt on?” God, she sounded like a freaking loser, but what else did she expect? She was in bed with the sexiest man she’d ever seen, and he was actively engaging in stripping her naked.

Hawk hissed out a breath, shaking his head. There was a hardness in his eyes that nearly equaled the level of heat.

“Fuck no, woman. I want to see all of you. Every curvy, soft, creamy, flawless inch of you. And I don’t want to hear shit from you about how you aren’t perfect or thin. I can see you thinking that bullshit. If I wanted perfect or thin, they would be in my bed right now instead of you. So, you will let me strip you naked, lick every inch of your body, and then fuck you until you can’t remember your own name.”

Trembling, her body thrumming with how much she needed him to do what he said, she nodded.

“Okay.”

She loosened her hold on her shirt and he pulled it up and over her head and off her arms in a practiced movement. She refused to think about how many other women he’d done that to, if he was so good at it. She was in bed with him, it was her he was stripping, it was her he’d been kissing.

With nimble fingers, he unclasped her bra, a plain white utility number that was all about support and not looks. She hadn’t expected to have sex that night. Or any night, especially with Hawk. But she couldn’t be ashamed, because the hunger in his eyes as he peered down at her naked breasts made every nerve in her body misfire.

“Fuck, Fae,” he ground out. He leaned over her, cupped one breast in his large hand, and squeezed. She gasped. “Your tits are fucking gorgeous. Big, overflowing, and your nipples….” He bent his head and took one rock hard top into his mouth, sucking hard. She groaned, her body lighting up with pleasure.

“Hawk,” she whimpered when he sucked harder, his talented tongue flicking her tip. Lifting his head, he gave the same attention to her other breast, his free hand slipping down her belly and into the waistband of her jeans. God, she needed him to touch her there, so damn badly.

Undoing the button and sliding the zipper down, Hawk made room for his hand in pants. Sliding into her panties, his long fingers brushed against her clit through the sopping wet gusset. She lifted her hips in silent encouragement, but he didn’t take the hint.

His mouth busy worshipping her breasts, his hand in her panties teased, taunted, driving her deeper and deeper into her own pleasure. She needed relief. For him to release the pressure he was creating.

“Hawk,” she choked out. “Please.”

He hmmm-ed, his mouth over her breast making her nipple vibrate.

“Shit!” she cried out.

He chuckled, releasing her to grin at her wickedly. “Do you need something,mo mhuirnin?” He pushed her panties aside and flicked his thumb over her sensitive clit. She gasped. “You are so wet, baby. You like this?” He flicked her clit again.

She nodded, unable to speak.

“Or would you prefer my tongue?”

She quickly found her voice. “Tongue! Please, Hawk,” she begged shamelessly.

With her pants already undone, and her legs made of jelly, it was nothing to pull her jeans down her hips, her thick thighs, and then right off the bed. They dropped to the floor beside the bed with a plop, but she could only focus on the man smirking down at her. Reaching behind his head, he tugged his shirt up and off, like a thirst trap right before her eyes.

Damn.

With clothes on, the man was edgy, rugged, and beautiful. Shirtless, he was unspeakably sexy. His broad chest was smattered with dark blond hairs. His left nipple was pierced with a silver barbell that made her want to bite it. There was a tattoo of a Celtic cross inside a Celtic knot over his heart, the symbolism obvious. On the opposite shoulder, a Hawk in flight, its wings spread, its talon spread, ready to snatch its prey. It was gorgeous. He was gorgeous. His six-pack abs were lickable, hard, the muscles rippling with each breath.

---