Page 62 of Savage Vows
“You’re taking me so well,” I murmur. “So tight, baby.”
Her fingers slide into my hair and tug. “Don’t stop.”
I don’t. I keep the angle, keep my thumb snug on her clit, and her breath starts to stutter. The heat in my spine climbs, thick and inevitable, but I hold the pace for her—counting her little gasps, chasing the exact rhythm that makes her eyes roll back.
“Come for me,” I tell her, voice rough. “Soak my cock.”
She shatters—clenching down in hot, pulsing waves, a broken cry against my mouth as her body grips me hard. I curl into it, stroking through her orgasm, slow and deep so she feels every second. The squeeze drags a curse out of me; I bury to the hilt and spill inside her with a low, guttural groan, kissing her like I’m trying to breathe through her.
We stay there, locked, catching breath in ragged pulls. I don’t drop my weight—just enough pressure to keep her cocooned while the aftershocks twitch around me. I kiss the corner of her mouth, her cheek, the soft spot by her ear.
“You okay?” I ask, thumb idling lazy circles on her hip.
She nods, a small, dazed sound humming in her throat. “It…stopped hurting,” she whispers. “Now it’s just—” She swallows, blush blooming. “Warm.”
“Good.” I brush my nose to hers. “That’s how it should be.”
I ease out slowly; she soft-gasps, then relaxes. I tug the torn red dress a little lower just to keep her warm and press my palm between her thighs, holding her there for a beat like I can keep the heat inside her. Then I kiss her again—soft, grateful, greedy at the edges.
I fetch a warm cloth and clean her gently, careful with every touch. She watches me the whole time, eyes unreadable, cheeks still flushed. I toss the cloth, pull the sheet up over her hips, and sit on the edge of the bed.
She studies my face. “Is this weird for you?”
I huff a soft laugh, rub the back of my neck. “I normally don’t do this, but then again I never had a wife.”
She doesn’t reply.
I meet her eyes. “But I guess it’s a series of firsts for both of us.”
Again no reply—just the bloom of red climbing her cheeks as she looks away.
That blush on her cheeks, the way she won’t quite meet my eyes—it gives me all the confirmation I need. She wants this. Maybe not planned, maybe not spoken, but real.
She bites her lip. “I never meant to do this.”
I give her a wry half smile. “Neither did I.”
Before I can say anything else, voices echo up from downstairs—the front door slamming. The others have returned from the party.
She stiffens, clutching the sheet to her chest. “How long have we been…” She trails off, the words tangled between embarrassment and curiosity.
I grin, can’t help it. “Fucking?”
Her eyes flash wide. She swats my arm, mortified and maybe a little delighted, and for a second all the awkwardness softens into something warm and new between us.
17
ADRIANA
I can’t stop thinkingabout what we did. Every time I close my eyes, it comes back in flashes—his mouth on mine, the rough scrape of his hands on my hips, the hot stretch of him pushing inside me. The mess we made of the bed, of my dress, of each other.
I went back to my own room after—slipped out quietly while he was taking a shower.
But I can still feel him, still feel the way my body melted and burned and shattered for him.
I stare at the ceiling, heart thumping, skin feverish. I twist in the sheets, but every movement just reminds me how sore I am, how wet I got for him, how desperate I was for more.
Finally, I give up. I shove my legs out of bed and pad out of my room to his.
