Page 14 of Vicious Savage

“I’ve been called many things,” I tell her. “Asshole is right up there at the top of the list, so yes, I’m well aware that I am one.”

Her eyes blaze, anger simmering beneath the surface. I’m not doing myself any favors here.

“You think you did your good deed for the day and rescued me from those men and now you want to throw me to the wolves?”

She heard us. Must’ve heard every word. Put the water on in the shower and pretended to be in there but instead listened to our conversation until her brain caught up to my plans for her. An unfortunate turn of events, but she should ditch the eavesdropping.

“You heard us, huh?”

“Yes, I did, asshole. What sort of a manareyou?!?”

“The sort of man that makes decisions based on logic and method. You do not fit into that equation.”

I’m honest with her. I don’t see her fitting into our plans or how we need to execute them. She will just drag us down and hold us back.

“You bastard!”

She screams then rears her hand back and brings her palm down to my cheek. She even hits with the force of a man; my face goes flying to the side. There is so much anger and hurt and betrayal in that one connection between her palm and my cheek.

My skin scorches with the sting, but it misses her heat already. No woman has ever slapped me before. I turn my face back to her slowly, my eyes hard as I watch her standing there, shocked at what she’s just done while contemplating my next move.

She answers her own question by flinging herself at me. Without warning, her body is pressed up against mine and her lips are sealed to mine. She digs between my lips, as though searching for treasure, forcing her tongue into my mouth until I’m reciprocating, my hand going to her back and pushing her into me.

She tastes of mint and strawberries and sugar. She’s soft and gentle and languid. Her tongue probes against mine, until we’re engaged in a happy dance together, our bodies moving against each other feverishly.

I don’t know what’s happening, but I’m not in a position to stop it. I’m logical and methodical, and everything happens for a reason. Just so. But there’s no reason for this to be happening. It’s not part of my plan. There’s no method, no rhyme or reason. No control. But it’s happening. And I don’t want it to stop.

14

LUNA

Iundo the sash of my robe until it falls open.

I don’t know what I’m doing, but all I know is I want this man, here in this moment, right now. I want him and I need him. And I can’t stop.

But something in him is holding back. He’s with me, but there’s a little devil on his shoulder telling him he has to stop. I can feel it in the way he tries to pull away before I press myself further into him. I grab his hand and guide it under the robe until it’s resting on my chest. There’s no way he’s going to be able to draw away once he has a taste of what I’ve got hiding here. He moves his hand up and down my chest, down the side until he reaches my hip, where he grabs me and pushes me into him until I can feel the ridge of his cock pressing into my body. He’s hard and he’s ready and he’s one step away from consuming me.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he growls, pulling away and looking into my face.

His eyes are like fire and ice, mesmerizing in their blue tranquility, and I feel as though I’m swimming in the sea as I look into them. I stretch a hand to his cheek, trace the curve of his stubble as it winds down his cheek. I have never wanted any man more than I want him in this moment. And it could be that I’m using him. It could very well be — I have something I can give him in the form of my body. And he has something he can give me — protection. I desperately need protection from my father and the evil that follows him. I don’t know if he can even offer me that, but I’m out of options. So I take the only one open to me and I hit the floor running.

“I know what I want.” I nip at his lip, eliciting another growl, until he lifts me off the floor and carries me back until I’m laying on the edge of the bed, my feet still touching the ground. The robe falls open, its sash discarded. He lines himself up between my legs, pushing them open, staring down at my body which is now on full display. He undoes his leather belt, slides it out of the loops, unbuttons his pants, then leans over to splay a huge hand on my stomach. It’s not a sensual move, but the move is filled with promise, a warning. Preparing me for what’s to come. Once this happens, there’s no turning back, no second chances.

He removes his clothes, and it’s when he removes his t-shirt that I slowly start to combust. Ropes of muscle snake down his chest to end in a v at his torso. His arms are thick with veins that tell me this man does some serious training. I reach my arms out, and he hovers over me, his eyes hooded, until I’m touching his chest, rock hard beneath my fingers.

I’ve all but ignored the rest of him, but now I look up into his face as he leans into me without actually touching me, searching his eyes. They’re heavy with lust, much in the same way I imagine my own to be, as he watches my exploration of his body.

“Last chance,” he says, swaying back and forth as though pushing and pulling. He wants to do this but he doesn’t. Does he have morals? Ethics? I don’t even know what sort of a man he is. In answer, I reach out and pull his mouth to mine, until he’s falling into me, his naked body pressed against mine.

Attila reaches for his jeans, pulls out his wallet and produces a condom, holds it up for me to see then grins. “It’s my only one so don’t waste it,” he says, making me chuckle. He rolls it down his thick manhood, then settles himself between my legs until he’s at my opening. He pauses, his eyes a daring challenge for me to stop him now, but I just lift myself off the bed to meet him, nudging his cock in invite. He hisses at the contact, then leans in to kiss me again, pushing himself slowly into me. He takes his time, pushing in and out slowly, gently, making my eyes roll in the back of my head with the effort it takes to remain patient. And then finally, one massive thrust until he’s seated all the way inside me, his body covering mine like a blanket as he rocks back and forth steadily.

My body hums against his, tension coiled deep in my depths as I wind my legs against his back and push him in further. It’s not possible; he’s in the deepest he can possibly go, but I want him deeper. I want him in me, on me, with me. I want him to fill every inch of space in and around me. We fit together in perfect symmetry, gliding against one another until the air is filled with our moans and our bodies coated in sweat. And it’s only moments of building, thrust after thrust, before I find myself tumbling off the mountain with him.

When he pulls away, he remains sheathed inside me as he holds himself on his arms and looks at me, searching my eyes for something. I don’t know what either of us expects; if we even expect anything, but there’s a question I can’t quite decipher lingering between us. A slap led to this. My hand connecting with his face resulted in us sharing a bed. It’s not how I would usually do things, but the moment called for this. It ached for it.

Attila moves in and nips at my mouth, then pushes my lips open, curling his tongue against mine. Like he could go again. He wants to go again. And I know deep within me that if we do, he could easily become my addiction.

15

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