Page 48 of Savage Hero

I glare at him until he ducks his head and pulls my nipple into his mouth. Compared with the icy water sluicing down on us, the heat is delicious. I bite my lip so I don’t moan out loud, but there’s nothing I can do for the tight throb that starts up between my legs.

Savage loses himself in my tits, teasing the tight little buds my nipples crinkle into with his teeth as his tongue swirls against my skin. He’s so distracted, he doesn’t react when I tug my wrists out of the twist of fabric above my head. Egotistical fuck he is, he probably thinks I’m going to make out with him.

I take full advantage of his distraction by grabbing his balls through his wet boxers andsqueezing.

The hiss he makes is much too satisfying, so I hold on even when I see the fury in his eyes. “I was doing just fine before you walked through that fucking door,” I tell him. My eyelids flutter when he tightens his hand in my hair, but I just twist his balls a teeny-tiny bit and he stops.

“Let go,” I whisper.

He reluctantly slips his fingers out of my hair, and my scalp throbs as if it misses his touch. Which is ridiculous, of course, because it was stinging just a second before.

“Now, I’m getting out of this shower, and I’m leaving.”

He opens his mouth but freezes when I twist a little more. I can’t help but notice how hard he is. How thick the base of his cock is.

I would have loved to have him inside me even once so I can writeI fucked the Devilon my tombstone.

“You won’t follow me,” I tell him. “In fact, you’ll forget Ieverexisted. Do we understand each other?”

He snarls at me, sexy as fuck with his black hair slicked against his skin, and face still bruised where I broke his nose.

I have to marvel at the artwork I created on his perfectly sculpted body. The half-moon bite marks in one bulging bicep, the fork-wound in his meaty thigh.They accentuate the jumble of tattoos scrawled over his muscles. I kinda wish I could have had more time to admire those. I’ve never had money to get tattoos, but I’ve always appreciated a good tattoo artist’s work. And my fucking God, whoever did Savage’s tattoos knew what they were doing.

Just as I’m about to start maneuvering around him, balls in hand, he brushes against my clit with a knuckle. I’m still wearing my panties, but that just seems to heighten the sensation. Trying to ignore it, I turn and start backing out of the shower. But before I can get my ass out of the door, he rakes his nails over that wet fabric.

“Stop touching me.”

“Let go of my dick.”

“It’s your tiny balls I’m holding, Papi.”

“I’ll stop when you let go.”

We face off in that crowded shower cubicle, water slamming into the sides of our faces. Then everything’s a blur.

Savage jerks back his hips, and I lose hold of his balls. But I’m already yanking out of the fabric twisted around my wrists and turning to the side so I can get out of the shower.

My wet feet slip on the tiles, but I manage to keep my balance just long enough to crash into the side of the door leading out.

Then I catch sight of his gun.

Savage roars, lunging at me as I reach for his piece. There’s a mad scramble as we both try to get our hands on the grip, but then he knocks the gun out of my hand, sending it skittering over the floor, through the door, and right across the room beyond.

Where it promptly disappears under the bed.

Fuck!

I could try to get to the front door, but what are the chances I’d reach it before he got the gun out?

I dive onto my stomach and crawl under the bed, my heart trying to hammer its way through my fucking ribcage. The gun is near the headboard, lying beside a pair of shoeboxes and some dust bunnies.

My fingers brush the cool muzzle.

A hand wraps around my ankle and tugs.

I claw against the floor, but there’s no purchase on the slick tiles, nothing to stop Savage from dragging me out.

As soon as my head clears the bottom of the bed, I flip around and kick him in the shin. He laughs at me and bends down to grab the front of my throat.

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