Page 4 of Savage Heart

“You ready for this, darlin’?” Erik asked as he dropped his jeans to the floor after retrieving a condom from his wallet. It took him no time to sheathe his long, thick, angry-looking cock. It was going to split her in half, and she was going to die sweaty and satiated.

With his strong arms, he lifted her, anchoring her my wrapping her thick thighs around his waist. She locked her ankles together over his tight, hard ass, his naked cock sliding over her slick, swollen slit, and rubbing against her pulsing clit.

She groaned, her body turning to molten need in human form.

Her breathing ragged, she growled, “If you don’t fuck me, I’m going to kill you!”

Erik chuckled darkly, wickedly. “As you command, baby.” With that, he thrust home, driving all nine inches into her body. He moaned, the sound like an animal grunting as it took down it’s kill.

She cried out at the shock—pain colliding with pleasure to force all thoughts from her mind.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so fucking good wrapped around my fat cock. So hot and tight,” Erik growled, his hips moving like a piston as he fucked her against the wall. “Come baby, come on my cock.Uhn! That’s it, baby, squeeze that cock, milk my cum.” He punctuated each sentence with a slam of his hips, driving into her over and over. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh, his grunts, her whimpers was a profane soundtrack playing between them.

“So good, baby—so fucking good…never had so good.” He groaned deep and hard as he drove in deep and hard. “This pussy was made for me—this pussy is mine!”

His words stole that last bit of her will—and she crashed over the cliff, falling…falling….

She screamed, throwing her head back as the most intense pleasure in her life cascaded over her. Her fingernails clawing at his shoulders and chest, digging grooves into his taut flesh.

“Yeah—that’s it…fuck!” Erik shouted as his cock thickened, then released jets of cum into the condom. He continued to move, his hips pushing and pulling, slower and slower as the need to mate abated. Their heated breaths met as he bent down to take her mouth. The kiss was wet, deep, demanding.

Finally, he let her go, and she dropped her wobbly legs to the floor as he pulled out, but he didn’t let her go far. He cupped her face and kissed her brow softly.

Against her forehead, he murmured, “I think I’ll keep you, baby.”

She grinned, meeting his gaze as he smiled down at her.

“You’re definitely trouble,” she teased, her heart thudding wildly at the way his grin turned into a lascivious smirk.

He voice deep, his drawl raspy, he purred, “You don’t say, darlin’….”

Thirteen Months Later….

Liz looked at her reflection in the mirror and glared. When had her life gone from difficult but manageable to raging dumpster fire?

An image ofhimflashed in her mind.

Oh, that’s right, she mentally snarked.

Her life took a sharp turn the night she met Captain Erik Skaarsen, sexy as hell Army vet, newly minted biker badass, and all-around dude-one-does-not-fuck-with. Tall, tattoos everywhere the eye could see—and in a few places it couldn’t,cocky smirk, cool yet scorching hot, emerald green eyes, muscles for days, ass cheeks that were that perfect globe shape—perfectly round and tight—close-cropped golden blond hair and well-maintained beard. The man was a walking, talking Viking marauder sent to plunder her panties. And that good ‘ol boy Texan accent? God, she’d practically handed the man her vagina that first night after he’d simply said, “Hey there, darlin’.”

The night they met, she’d walked into the dive bar just on the outskirts of Vegas to meet up with her community college study group to celebrate the end of the school year, and collided with a wall of sex and danger. He’d taken one look at her, cocked that fucking smirk, and she’d gone down like a Viking longship pierced by flaming arrows.

He’d winked, broke into a grin that showed off—not one buttwo—dimples, and she’d been a goner.

That was thirteen months ago.

And she wasstillreeling. How the hell did a short, overweight nobody end up with a man who made Chris Hemsworth look like Steve Buscemi? She had no fucking idea, but she wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially since they tended to bite.

She knew that night as she knew now that she was way in over her head, but there was nowhere else she wanted to be. Erik wasn’t like the other men she’d known—he was a badass, yeah, but he was also gentle when she needed gentle. Every month, right on time, he’d bring her chocolate, Midol, and plug in her heating pad. Where some men kept their distance when their woman was on her period, Erik was there with her. Laying behind her on the couch, his big hand rubbing the cramps from her belly.

“What type of man would I be, if I didn’t take care of my woman?”

Yeah, he wasthattype of badass, the kind that broke most all stereotypes. He was walking, talking sex on massive, muscular legs, but he was also all heart.

It had been the rough, soul-shattering sex that had drawn her in, but it had been his heart that had convinced her to stay. That he was the kind of man she wanted to keep.

Not that she had much experience with men.

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