Page 19 of Savage Reign

“Obviously,” I choke out. What’s with all the talking?

“Then say it,” he demands.

This is so far outside my comfort zone, and even after the shot, I’m far from drunk. Barely tipsy. But damn it, I’ve never felt this drawn to someone. Never felt tempted to do something this wild, and I’m not backing down.

His gaze searches mine, unflinching as wetness pools with each slow stroke of his knuckles between my legs.

“Yes, I want you to fuck me… please.”

He groans. “Hold that thought. There’s something I need to do first.”

Before I have a chance to question what the hell he means, he releases my legs. I expect him to reach for a condom, but instead, he takes off his glasses and sinks to his knees, looking up at me with hooded eyes.

Without breaking eye contact, he reaches for my panties, peeling them down in one fluid motion before tossing them aside and hooking my leg over his shoulder. His tongue drags along my slit, and pleasure slams into me, stealing my breath.

Oh. My. God.

I shudder as his tongue sweeps through my folds again, then settles on my clit, swirling it in hot, deliberate circles. The part of his face I can see is consumed with desire, his stare locked onto mine with a need that sets my skin ablaze.

He slides a finger inside me, then a second, curling them perfectly in time with the flick of his tongue on my clit. The orgasm builds fast, tightening low in my belly. My mouth falls open, my breaths ragged as my head falls back, legs trembling under the onslaught.

Only one man, the rigger I dated, ever went down on me, and it was nothing like this. This is pure heat and electric need.

“Soak me,” he growls. “Come all over my face like a good girl. I want every drop.”

That’s all it takes for me to come undone. A cry slips from my lips as my entire body shakes with release. He doesn’t stop, coaxing each tremor out of me until I’m completely spent, my fingers still tangled in his hair.

He barely gives me time to float back to earth before he rises, unbuckles his jeans, and pushes them, along with his briefs, to the floor. Then he tears open a condom and rolls it over his impressive length.

Oh, Jesus. How the hell is that going to fit? But he doesn’t give me a second to dwell on that question before his hand grips my thigh, and he positions his dick at my soaked entrance.

With one firm thrust, he pushes all the way in, filling me completely.

This should be way more uncomfortable, considering how rarely I have sex, but it’s not. It feels perfect—especially after that earth-shattering orgasm minutes ago.

He holds still, his breaths coming in quick, shallow pants, watching my expressions to see when I’ve adjusted to his size. I’m so wet and relaxed, the stretch is more pleasure than pain.

“I can take you,” I whisper, breathless.

That’s all the encouragement he needs. He buries his face in my neck and rocks into me with a hard, steady rhythm.

I tilt my hips to meet each of his thrusts. He lets out a low growl, pushing deeper, his mouth capturing mine. He teases me, his tongue mimicking the movements of his cock. When his hand dips down, finding my clit and stroking it with expert precision, my eyes fall shut, and I give in to the sensation.

The club noise falls away, my focus narrowing on how good this feels. Each stroke is deeper than the last, and his fingers continue to work my clit in circles.

“That’s right. Are you going to give me what I want?”

All I can do is nod. My legs tremble as the tension builds, pushing me to the edge. I gasp and throw my head back, my arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

“Come for me—I want to feel you milk me dry.” His voice is rough. He pinches my clit, his cock driving deep, again and again, until I shatter. He doesn’t stop until I feel like I’m going to melt.

Then he grabs my hips and drives inside, holding himself deep—so deep I feel like I might split apart. His groans fill the space, the tremors of his release coursing through me.

I’ve never felt anything that intense before, and it leaves me shaken, like I’ve crossed into a whole new world. But slowly, reality settles back in.

He lowers my shaking legs, his fingers brushing up my thighs, leaving a warm trail before he pulls away. His large hand lifts to cup my face, and he studies me as if he’s committing every detail to memory. This close, I spot a faint scar near his temple I hadn’t noticed before and a dimple in his chin.

With a quiet sigh, he pulls out, ties up the condom, and tosses it away before fastening his pants. I pick up my discarded panties and slide them back on, smoothing out my dress. I run my fingers through my hair in the mirror, noticing the light sheen of sweat that makes my skin glow.

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