Page 15 of Savage Obsession
I slowly stand, chest heaving, water running down my face. When I drag my tongue over her parted lips for a kiss, both of us moan at the taste of her on my mouth.
“Venom,” she says shakily and knowing I’ve made her so weak she can barely say my name shoots pride through me.
She pants with pleasure while it is pure, untamed raw lust forcing my chest in and out. She’s still panting, cheeks glowing, but she grabs my cock like she knows what she wants and finally feels confident enough to go for it.
“My turn,” she whispers, sinking to her knees, looking up at me with that wild, hopeful smile. Her mouth is hot, wet and myfucking heaven. Her tongue slides along my length and when her lips wrap around the head, sucking, teasing…
“Fuck, Willow. You make me see stars,” I hiss, bracing a hand on the wall, the other tangled in her hair. She moans, taking me deeper, her hands stroking what her mouth can’t reach. I can’t last—not with her li. N this, not with her making me forget every single rule I ever lived by.
She makes me lose control, and that is a totally new experience for me.I pull her up, kissing her hard, lifting her so her legs wrap around my waist. She laughs, breathless and sweet, all trust and need.
“You ready?” I rasp, lining up the crown of my cock to her entrance, every muscle in my body strains until she gives me the words I want to hear.
“For you? Always.”
I slide into her in one slow, deep thrust, pinning her to the shower wall, water cascading over us, mixing with her moans, her hands clutching my shoulders, nails biting deep into the flesh of my shoulders.
We move together, desperate, filthy, perfect. Her sunshine and warmth melts every jagged piece of me, my darkness swallowing her whole. I pound into her, hips snapping, her cries turn louder and higher, until she shatters again, taking me with her.
With my cock harder than it’s ever been in my fucking life, I groan, spilling inside her. Every muscle is shaking. She clings to me, soft and breathless, nuzzling my jaw.
“I never thought life could ever be perfect. Yet here we are,” she whispers, sleepily.
Perfect. With me? I hold her words close to my heart as I dry her off and slip her between the sheets of my bed. I return to the living room and throw more logs on the fire before I come back to find a sleeping Willow curled under my sheets waiting for me.
I’ll never let her go.
5
VENOM
The cabin breathes like a beast at an uneasy rest. Fire ticks and pops in the grate, wood gross under the weight of freshly fallen snow. The old timbers creak as the storm shifts and new weight lands on old branches.
I mentally reach for Willow who sleeps beside me. She is warm and calm in the darkness. The world outside is bleak white noise. But here with my snow angel, I feel a calmness as fragile as it may be.
It’s the silence that changes first.
Not the storm. That animal has been damn near a constant for hours on end now. No. It’s the space inside the wind—how it thins out and then pauses as it whips through the trees. It’s like the world is holding its breath with me.
My eyes snap open. Every nerve ending pricks awake.
Something’s wrong. I don’t have much in the way of comfort amenities like end tables and alarm clocks. I don’t see the need in them when I’m hardly here, so I don't know what time it is.
My best guess is that sunrise isn’t too far off.
I slide from the bed without jostling the blankets. Cold kisses my skin where her heat leaves me. She turns once in her sleep, a little sound caught in her throat, and I’m a bastard for leaving that sound behind, but this is why I’m breathing. To keep her doing the same.
I dress fast. Jeans, a shirt and a flannel, knife at my back, and a Glock in my hand. I kill the interior lamp and leave only the low orange of the fire as I pad to the window. The glass is fogged with heat on cold, but I can still see the smear of white and the black bones of the trees. Headlights would paint shadows. Footsteps would carve them.
I scan the fresh powder from the edge of the glass.
There.
Movement along the tree line catches my eye. It’s low. Careful. Too careful for it to be some stray animal.
The Vultures are here to take what they can’t have. I wondered how long it would be.
I crack the door and winter floods in, a knife of air along my ribs. The night smells like pine, iron, and the old ghosts that love a good killing.
