Page 16 of Savage Hero

Chapter Eight

Savage

I’ve had internal battles before. Cartel life isn’t exactly filled with easy, moral choices. But I like to think that I’ve been around hardship and bullshit for so much of my life, that I can soothe my conscience with a snap of my fingers.

That used to be true, but Nyx is testing the last vestiges of my already very limited patience.

Nothing works on her. Threats of violence, the threat of rape—nothing.

Because, again, I’m just threatening. And she keeps calling my bluff and laughing at me with her intoxicating blue eyes as she gathers up all my chips and scrapes them over the table into her lap.

Enough.

She thinks I’m all balls and no cock? Then I guess it’s time she opened her pretty little mouth and ate some motherfucking humble pie. Penis. Humble penis.

Fuck it, that doesn’t work.

Big, round eyes gaze up at me. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips trembling. But it’s all anger, not a trace of fear. Without this gun, she’d probably have gotten in a few good punches again.

But this space is too small. The baby is lying on the floor just a foot away, squirming.

“Open.”

She licks her lips but then seals them shut. I pinch my fingers harder into her cheeks, and her jaws reluctantly part.

“You know I’m just going to bite it in half, right?” She shrugs. “If I can find it.”

My chest grows tight as heat slowly floods my body. “Then your brains will be splattered all over the wall.” I slowly click off the safety and push the muzzle even harder into her temple. “Now open your fucking mouth.”

She giggles.

She fuckinggiggles.

And then she does open her mouth, but I know it’s not so I can shove my cock in it. So before she can get a word out, I turn the gun onto the baby in the corner.

Nyx stiffens. Her eyes dart to the baby, then back to me. “You wouldn’t…”

“You’ve heard them call me Savage.” It’s not a question, but she dips her head a little anyway. “Trust me, you don’t want to find out why.”

Nyx grabs my dick through my pants. Squeezes me. “Wow,” she says, deadpan. “You’re such a big man. Pointing a gun at Princess. I’m shocked your jeans can even contain this massive dick.”

I growl at her, grab her around the throat, and push her into the wall. Her legs give out, and she scrambles to try to retain her balance, but all that’s keeping her up is my grip.

The thrum of her vein under my thumb is intoxicating. I can feel her pulse speeding up. Can feel her muscles constricting as she swallows.

Suddenly all I can think about is her sweet, juicy little mouth wrapping over my dick. Her tongue sliding against my shaft as I sink deeper and deeper down her throat. But with one hand around her neck, and the other on the gun, my dick remains trapped in my pants.

Until her quivering hand darts out again and unzips me. She fumbles, her deft fingers contorting so she can grab my rock-hard cock, but she can’t seem to get it out of my pants.

Glaring at her, I put the safety back on the gun and use that same hand to unbutton my jeans. And the moment my button pops open, I knew it was a mistake.

She launches herself like a viper. With a sharp jab to my arm, she tears out of my grip and plants a knee in my groin. Pain explodes through my body, but I shove it back, tether it, dismiss it. I don’t think she expected me to recover—she probably didn’t even expect me to still be standing—but I am, and I take full advantage of it.

This isn’t the place to show her who’s in control. Not in an elevator, not with a baby, not holding a gun.

So I punch her in the stomach and shove my Beretta in the waistband of my jeans as she folds over and retches. Nothing comes up yet, but it sounds like her insides are seconds away from spewing all over my shoes.

There’s a chime. The elevator starts rumbling as it ascends. I stab the button for the second floor, and honestly don’t think I’ve made it in time until the elevator slows to a halt a few seconds later.

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