Page 34 of Savage Rule

“I want you,” I admit. “But aren’t you afraid of what I’ll do once you’ve given me what I want? Your safety net might be nothing more than a spider’s web. And you’ve heard what spiders do to their mates when they’re done with them.”

Gunn licks my throat as he runs his palms up the inside of my thighs, beneath the towel, until he is millimeters from my sex. My heart is pounding in my chest and in my core. I’m wet with expectation of his touch there, however, he keeps his handfrom moving farther. It’s his job to torture the enemy, and that’s exactly what he’s doing now.

He stands, and I have to crane my neck to look up at him now. Damn, he is one fine man. I’m so attracted to him, it makes my head spin. But it’s not just a visual attraction, but a biological one as well. We must be made for each other because when I inhale and take in his scent, my body shoots off signals demanding that I mate with him.

Like an animal.

How appropriate the song that I danced for him was that night at Darling Tease, except I want him to be the one that fucksmelike an animal.

Gunn pushes himself between my legs, forcing me to spread them. I’m hyper aware of the way my pussy opens beneath the towel, and the closeness of his jean clad hips to my exposed clit.

I suck in a breath when he reaches for the spot where the towel is knotted over my breasts. In one easy twist, he undoes it, and the towel falls away.

As if he’s admiring a fine steak he’s about to consume, licking his lips, pupils dilating, he takes in every part of me—my breasts, hard nipples, tummy, and my cunt.

He places his large palm on my chest, dragging it downward, over my belly button. Then, he brings it to my pussy, caressing it with the back of his hand, letting his knuckles tease the tip of my clit.

I clutch the table harder. “Fuck, yes.”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he says, copying what I said to him, but by the lust in his eyes, I can tell he means it. He brushes his fingers over my entrance and pushes two inside. Then he brings them back to his mouth and tastes me. “So fucking sweet.”

“Shit.” I bite my lower lip and that seems to be some catalyst that makes his control break.

He slides his hand up and around my neck to hold me in place as he crushes his mouth to mine. Just like the other night, the kiss instantly turns into something more, something so consuming it feels like he’s fucking me already. He’s not just tasting me, but branding himself on my tongue.

It’s maddening, the kiss, his hands on my breasts, the bulge in his plants slamming against me, grazing my clit roughly.

“Keep that up and I’m going to come on your jeans again,” I warn him.

“Though I wouldn’t mind, I’d rather you come on my dick this time.” He tears his shirt off and drops his pants, a huge grin painting across his lips when my eyes widen as I take in his size. “You’ll be able to handle me.”

As turned on as I am, I wouldn’t back out now anyway.

Grabbing him by the shoulders, I pull him back to me. I kiss him wildly, sliding my tongue across his, inhaling him.

This time, when he presses himself between my legs, there’s nothing to buffer the feel of his hard shaft sliding against my pussy. Every time he shifts, the head of it brushes over my clit, each contact deliciously electric.

I’m wet. So wet I’m afraid if he doesn’t start fucking me soon, it’ll drip down my legs.

He breaks away only to trail soft bites down my jaw and throat. I cry out when he takes a nipple between his teeth.

“Harder,” I beg, desperate for a little more of that delicious sting.

I’m delirious, lost in a lust filled fog when suddenly I’m dragged out of it by his fingers inching their way towards my back.

Usually, when I fuck, I leave my shirt on. Guys don’t care as long as they can get to your breasts. Gunn caught me at a vulnerable time. Swept me up in this sexual frenzy so fast I didn’t have a chance to think about it.

He pauses, his fingertips skirting the bandage I placed over the last two marks I made. “What’s this?”

When he tries to look, I tug away. It scares me.

I don’t like being vulnerable, and there’s only one way I can think of to feel in control again.

From the bunched-up towel, I tug out the two-inch knife. Sliding it between my fisted middle and forefingers, I press it against Gunn’s rock hard abs.

He freezes and glances down at the sharp tool.

Lifting his dark gaze to me, he arches a brow. “Is that your way of asking me to stop?”

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