Page 20 of Savage Devotion
The Savage Reign crew come in hot. The second I see the flash of a gun barrel, I hit the pavement and hug my knees. I dare to turn my head just in time to see a few Vultures burn rubber in the opposite direction.
Ire boils in my veins and replaces the sickening feeling of disgust sitting in my belly.
You know what, I’m done playing the weakling.
I gather my fear, shove it down and force myself to my feet. I shove my hair from my face and steel my spine with the same level of grit that helped me drive my skinny teenage knee into the nut sack of a thirty-year-old years ago.
I was never anyone’s toy then and I am not starting today.
I shove my hand in my purse, raise the black canister tucked in a side pocket, and fuck picking which of the assholes to aim for or hoping the Savage Reign crew is here to save me.
Arm raised outward, I press the little red button and soak the nearest biker in nasty pepper spray.
Thank God there isn’t too much wind today or I would be rolling on the ground right alongside the dude with the acid green mohawk. Metal crashes to the cement and I cringe.
Oops. That’s gonna cost thousands to repair. And I don’t feel an ounce of remorse.
“You cry like a good baby,” I hurl before hiking my long skirt to my knees and lunging over the squirming biker grabbing at his face.
I haul ass and don’t look back when I hear fists meeting flesh. Grunts and manly cries chase me across the street, but I don’t care who is beating who right now. All I need is my safe space.
“Arabelle.” A deep, tightly coiled voice strikes my ears.
The sound of my name onhislips almost has me stopping.
Keys in hand, the thumping tread of heavy motorcycle boots chases me into the back room of my bookstore. I barely manage to get behind the closed door before the sound of wood crashing against the back wall fills the room. I turn to see a set of familiar black-as-coal eyes.
“Reaper.” The blood in my veins hit molten lava heat levels in a flash. I’m suddenly so hot I can’t think and forget trying to breathe.
He’s across the room in three long strides. Hands are in my hair and hard, unforgiving lips crash over mine.
7
ARABELLE
Ibarely get his name out before my air supply cuts off.
I can’t do anything but kiss him back.
His grip on me is firm, yet far from punishing. The bite of pain at him controlling my movements is as infuriating as it is a turn-on.
My fingers dig into the black material of his shirt. Fierce hunger drives me to suck his tongue deeper inside my mouth.Dios, this man. His body. He’s not my addiction. He’s my sin.
I’ve craved the feel of him under my hands for a long time.
His body looms over me, large, hot, and dominant. All that muscle I had pressed against me and the memory of how he felt thrusting into my body pours from my mind until my heart feels like it’s going to explode.
I moan, clinging to his muscled arms as he pulls me so tightly that I can feel every single groove and dip of his hard abs. And then lower. We touch from top to bottom and the hard length of his arousal is all too evident pressing against my abdomen.
The scent of his cologne erases the stench of Grudge’s sweat and replaces it with the crisp aroma of soap, fresh fall air, and a hint of motor oil.
Those fingers in my hair move beneath my skirt to grip my ass and I’m already opening my legs to wrap around his middle. Just like that night. No control. No care in the world beyond right this minute.
I groan when the ridge of his massive cock slips against my heated core. I grind and ride him dry but not for long. I can already feel the silkiness of my juices spilling to wet the confines of my panties.
What am I doing? I flick the tiny voice in my head away.
The rough skin of his palms slips around to the front and I realize too late his sinful intent.
