Page 88 of Savage Guardian

When they finally came up for air, Hawk drew Fae into his arms and held her tight.

She sighed, more than content.

“So, Aoibheal?” Hawk prompted.

Over the last week, if Fae wasn’t thinking about Hawk, she was obsessing over her career and the death of all that she’d been working for. Now that she had the chance to take back what was hers, she would not waste it.

“I think Aoibheal still has a few albums in her,” she replied, grinning.

“Fuck yeah, you do.” His enthusiasm made her blush.

“Does my man like that?” she gloated playfully.

“Oh no, I’m not just your man, baby,” Hawk proclaimed.

“Oh? What are you, then?”

He kissed her, infusing every sweep of his lips, every play of his tongue over hers, every touch with his love. His devotion. Breaking the kiss, Hawk drew back far enough to look her in the eye, his gaze so full of intense adoration she couldn’t breathe.

With a smile that made her heart pound, he admitted sheepishly, “I’m your biggest fan.”

Javier “Fang” Lopez slammed the door behind him with such force the windows on each side of the door frame rattled in their panes.

Gritting his teeth, he tossed his keys into the ceramic bowl on the foyer table and took a deep breath, willing away the surge of anger turning his world violent red. Leaning against the table, he peered down at the bowl, his gaze flickering over the iridescent swirls of color in the useless decorative piece Anise had bought last year. It was one of a hundred other pieces of prissy décor he’d paid for over the last several years, and his wallet reflected that. Then again, he made enough money in a year to outfit a hundred houses just like this with the same feminine garbage.

If his brothers could see his house, they’d laugh him out of the fucking club, and he’d have earned it. But he was man enough to admit that he allowed such softness in his home because it kept the women happy.

Women?

Yeah. Five of them.

All living under one roof. All successful, beautiful, sexually deviant women. All there to please him at his whim. If he wanted one or all of them in his bed, they would come to him, arms and legs open, begging for his touch, his tongue, his cock.

His Beehive. His harem. In woke terms, they were all in a polyamorous relationship. While his club brothers hopped from club bitch to any other strange pussy that came along, he had his women to keep him satisfied. They were dedicated to him, faithful to him, and him alone. They lived and breathed for him and his pleasure. They knew exactly what he wanted, how he wanted it, and he never had to waste time chatting up some slut at the clubhouse or the club bar, Up to No Good, just to get his dick wet. If he wanted pussy, ass, or mouth, he just went home, crooked a finger at whichever of his Bees he was in the mood for, and they came.

And they fuckingcamehard. Every goddamn time. He wasn’t a selfish lover; he was a giver. And his Bees lapped up his cum and his attention, like the good little bees they were.

He was thirty-seven, was in his physical prime, and living the life of a fucking sultan—with the money, the mansion, and the women.

So why the fuck was he so hung up on one woman who wouldn’t even give him the time of day?

Tessa Grimes.

Best friend to his prez’s new old lady, Skathi.

Both Skathi and Tessa were badasses who literally kicked ass in the MMA ring. Both women were fucking Amazons with above average height, muscle packed bodies, and fucking curves for days. But there was something aboutTessathat had snatched his attention the moment he set eyes on her. Something he couldn’t name but refused to ignore. No matter how much she peered at him with cold blue eyes, or smirked at him in disdain.

Fuck, if she knew about his other women, how they lived, she’d probably rip his balls off and feed them to a pack of rabid coyotes. But…then again…maybe she’d like it. What woman wouldn’t enjoy living in the lap of luxury, without a single want or need denied…including him? He’d be all the man she needed, he’d set her up in one of his master suites, ornament her in topaz and rubies, and when she was dripping for his cock, he’d crook his finger, and she’d fall into his bed.

Just like the rest of ‘em.

His cock throbbed at the thought of spreading her out on his double king mattress and devouring her.

Fuuuuuck. His mouth watered, imagining what his Tessa would taste like, how juicy and swollen her cunt would be under his lapping tongue.

Grabbing his dick through his jeans, he picked up his cell and hit the number for his lawyer.

“Hey, baby,” Libby answered, her familiar husky rasp making his cock all the harder. “Do you need me home?”

---