Page 23 of Savage Devotion
We’re wild, reckless, and I’m loving it.
I raise my gaze to his. His eyes are not closed, as I expect. They are open and on me.
I take fistfuls of my skirt and yank the material higher so we can both see how he’s stretching me wide over his shaft.
“So beautiful and wet. And all for me. You’re gonna get my seed, baby. Every last drop of it.”
“Fill me, Reaper. Let me feel you,” I beg.
The words are barely out before he’s buried to the hilt. He’s so deep it’s all I can do to remember to breathe and not get lost in the sensations of the pulses gripping my senses.
“Pet that pretty clit, baby. Work yourself for me. Just like that.”
Fingers dig into the flesh of my ass as he pulls out and thrusts back in. I do as he instructs and the jolt of my release is an instant fire in my veins. The last of the cups and coffee canisters crash to the floor around us.
And he keeps pumping until I think we’ll fuck a hole into the wall.
His cock jolts deep in me and, hand to God, I feel every drop of Reaper’s release spill into my tight cum-virgin pussy just as he promised.
I cry out and ride my orgasm. He roars in a deep rumble of masculine pleasure as ecstasy grips us both. Hot cum jets into me, pulse after pulse.
His lips crash to mine and when he tears away, I see the blood from my slap smeared over his bottom lip.
A side of his lip pulls up in an arrogant grin.
“Are you gonna slap me again, baby? Or should we test that flimsy thing of a sofa next?”
8
REAPER
After I helped Arabelle clean up our mess, she told me she had to head to work. Twenty minutes later, I found myself at Savage’s Pour House. I watch Belle laughing with Lily, the sweet club-candy who’s been working here since she moved into the Savage compound a couple of years back.
Lily is a good girl, but a biker bitch through and through. The crew swears she gives good head, but I’ll leave it at that. I’m not into tasting used goods. That probably makes me sound like a real son-of-a-bitch but I know what I want. And what I don’t.
Shit. I haven’t been with anyone since that night with Arabelle. My dick has been in knots over her for over four long-ass, dry months now.
My eyes are glued to Arabelle as she scoops up a tray and helps deliver it to a rowdy load of fuckers just getting off work. Every dip of her hip drags pre-cum from my dick and I swear I’m so hard already I could pound railroad nails into solid cement.
“You nail them with any meaner look, and you’ll pick a bar fight. I mean, I’m down with a little rough-housing, Prez, but can I at least finish my beer first? What’s the new girl to you, anyway?”
Ash’s scowl isn’t any better than mine. He leans back in his chair, props an arm over the back, and takes a deep swallow of his cold brew. I hear him and he has a point but I can’t seem to pull the scowl on my face back now that it’s front and center.
The only thing that will help me is getting Arabelle the fuck outta here. The messed-up part is I own the joint. This is Savage’s territory.
“She was the girl I told you about back at the Voodoo Lounge a few months back.”
Ash lets out a low whistle.
“Got it.”
Savage’s Pour House is located right over the parish boundary of Harlon and an easy ride from the compound when I want something new to look at.
On this side of the line, local law has limited access to the place. It’s no more than a converted warehouse, which sometimes serves as storage for what the club needs to keep away from the compound—gambling and illegal poker games. The club has to make money somehow.
The back is where that goes down and is what makes it a valuable asset for the club among the many we have between here and in New Orleans.
Back in the day, it used to be closer to a strip club we own. During a territory grab back in my dad’s day, it was damn near destroyed. After the ashes were cleaned away, my dad relocatedit out here, threw down some gravel to serve as a parking lot, brought the old slab of wood to serve as the bar top, and called it good to go.
