Page 77 of Greed: The Savage
Malric’s slow crawl across the mattress toward her was unhurried, deliberate. He wore the same pleased, cocksure smile she’d found on his lips when she’d first awakened. And God help her—it made her want him all the more.
“You look scared, minx,” he said silkily, the words piercing through the fog of lust he’d wrapped around her.
“Of you?” she scoffed, somehow finding the strength to feign disdain. “As if I ever could. I fear no man.”
That had once been true. She wasn’t sure when it had stopped being so.
Lust burned in his eyes, so fierce she swore it scorched her skin. With a low growl, he caught her ankle.
“Come to me,” he ordered—dragging her toward him even as he commanded it. That relentless need, that possessive demand for her to affirm he was the only man she wanted in her bed and in her arms, set her ablaze. The fire began between her thighs and roared outward in a great, consuming conflagration.
The telltale flare of his nostrils betrayed that he was just as lost to lust as she.
Moaning, she let her legs fall wider apart. She beckoned and begged in the same breath and didn’t care. He was what she wanted, terrifyingly so. She would take him however she could, in whatever way he’d give himself.
“My God,” he breathed, starting a trail of kisses along the arch of her foot. “You are bloody magnificent.”
And as always, after receiving that rare, high praise from this man—so cold and unfeeling to others—it had the same shattering effect on her.
Moaning, Addien fell back, opening herself to welcome his worship.
Her eyes slid shut, centering on every inch of flesh where he bestowed his benediction. Malric’s tongue darted out, tracing a slow, wet path that his hard, masterful lips followed with soft, unexpectedly tender kisses.
That side of him as a lover—this ruthless, all-powerful warrior—was as surprising as it was intoxicating. A man capable of plowing her into the mattress could also touch her as though she were the most precious thing he’d ever held. Her body responded as if he’d gifted her something priceless. Her cunny wept for him.
A master in bed, Malric didn’t falter. His mouth moved languorously up her leg while one hand wrapped around her ankle, guiding it to rest across his shoulder so he could reach that sensitive spot he’d discovered last night behind her left knee. His other hand slid into her nest of curls, working those long, skilled fingers inside her exactly the way she craved.
Addien rocked shamelessly into his palm. Pride had long since ceased to matter where this man was concerned. She could no more deny herself his touch than a dying man could refuse a final drink.
When he found that sweet spot deep within her, she hissed between her teeth and bucked upward.
“Right here?” he asked, voice ragged.
“You know it is, Malric—” The rest of her impatient snarl broke into a gasp as he moved his fingers just so.
Without relenting, he lifted his mouth from the inside of her thigh, flashing a wolfish smile. “Yes, I do,” he said silkily. “Me. And only me.”
If words could preen, those would.
“Aye, you, bloody arrogant man.” Her voice purred, stripping any sting from the words.
“I need to have you.”
With impatience pulsating from him, Malric pulled his hand away and scrambled up her body, not even pausing to strip fully. Shoving his front falls down, his long, thick shaft sprang free.
“Yes!” she cried, bucking her hips, urging him faster to where she needed him.
And he obliged as he did, and only did, in sex.
“Don’t say you didn’t ask for it.” He taunted them both with their mutual want.
“As if I could,” she conceded him that admission and he rewarded her. Emitting a savage’s growl, he buried himself deep inside her.
Addien cried out.
Where last night had been laced with moments of tenderness, there was nothing slow or gentle about this taking.
Now, he unleashed his full lust on her.
