Page 44 of Savage Love

He keeps repeating it, over and over, his hand tightening around my wrist, like a litany, like a prayer, until the words stumble over each other, and I can’t take it any longer.

I love him, and I want to take away what hurts him and I can’t.

So I lean forward and kiss him instead, swallowing up the apology spilling from his lips, because it’s all I can do.

I feel him tense, a ripple of need going through him, and then as my lips press against his, he spills me backward onto the couch, his hands suddenlyeverywhere.

“Elena–”

His forehead presses against mine, and I can taste vodka on his mouth,feelthe way he’s beyond being able to tell himself what he should and shouldn’t have. His hand pins mine above my head, his broad palm and long fingers wrapping around my wrists and holding them together, his muscled body pushing me down into the couch cushions. He’s hard against my thigh, pressing hotly through the layers of fabric between us, and a rush of desire fills me with an intensity that makes me feel dizzy.

“Tell me no,” he whispers, his lips moving against mine. “Tell me you don’t want me, Elena. Tell me that I’m not what you need.”

Tears blur behind my eyes. “Why would you want that?” I whisper, my nails biting into my palms as I clench my hands, held in place by his grasp on my wrists. “Why would you want me to tell you no?”

Levin sucks in a deep, shuddering breath, his hips moving against me, and I can feel the weight of his desire, how heavily all of it weighs on him, how much he wants this. As much as I do—and I think at that moment, as I feel him tremble atop me, that he feels what I do, too.

He just can’t admit it, and it’s tearing us both apart.

“Then I wouldn’t have to fight it,” he murmurs. “If you didn’t want me, I’d leave you alone. There’d be no question about it. But you fuckingdo, and every day, I have to—”

I cut him off with another kiss, arching up into him, my hands grasping at nothing as I slant my mouth over his. “I can’t tell you that,” I whisper against his mouth, kissing him again. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He groans, hips grinding into me again. “I can’t stop,” he murmurs into the kiss. “Fuck, Elena, I’m fuckingachingfor you–”

“I don’t want you to stop.” I graze my teeth over his lower lip, following the same spot with my tongue. “But I do want you to take me upstairs, so we can do this in our own bed.”

He’s so fucking hard that I can feel him throbbing against my inner thigh, his hips jerking again at that. “I have a better idea, first,” he murmurs, and then his hands let go of my wrists as he slides down my body, his fingers catching in the waist of my leggings.

I know what he’s going to do before his lips brush between my thighs, but I still let out a sharp, startled cry of pleasure when his tongue drags over my clit. I’m surprised every time by how good it feels, how the heat of his tongue soothes and builds the ache in me all at once. His hand is on my inner thigh, holding my legs apart as the stubble on his chin scrapes against my soft flesh, making me moan as he traces circles around my clit with the tip of his tongue.

He’s not as careful or as practiced as he usually is. I’ve been with him once before like this, drunk and less certain, and I forgot how good it was to have him like this, the edges of his control softened and his desire bleeding out around them, making him forget to focus only on me. Whathewants is to devour me, lashing his tongue over my clit and sucking my sensitive flesh into his mouth, his fingers tracing the outside of my entrance as he holds me open for his lips and tongue to explore, and I fuckingloveit. I want him to do what he wants with me, and that’s exactly what it feels like.

He drags my leggings the rest of the way off, pushing my shirt up with the flat of his hand on my belly, fingers twisting in the material as his tongue slides over me again and again, making me shiver and tremble from the pleasure electrifying every inch of my skin. It feels so good, the raw desire that I can feel in the way he presses his mouth against me, as if I’m all he wants to taste, to feel, to makehis, and I can forget for just a moment that this is temporary. That this side of Levin, the side that wants me without reservation, will disappear again.

“Come for me,” he murmurs against my heated flesh, the words vibrating against my skin. “I fucking want it. I want to fuckingtasteit—”

His tongue drags over me again, wet and hot and insistent, his fingers pressing into my thigh, and he slides his tongue lower, pushing it into me as he thrusts, curling it as if he wants to taste as much of me as he can.

“Levin!” I gasp his name, hips writhing, my suddenly neglected clit throbbing with the need for pressure, friction,pleasure, and he thrusts his tongue inside of me again before he slides it free and gives me what I so desperately need.

It’s enough and not enough all at once. I feel the orgasm unfurling inside of me, the tremors starting in my legs and crashing over the rest of my body as my muscles tense and I flood his tongue with my arousal, but I clench hard, wanting to be filled, wantingmoreas I come for him, bucking against his tongue.

“God, yes–” Levin moans, and then he sucks my clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue against it, and it sends my orgasm into a fresh cascade of pleasure, the friction against the oversensitive flesh making it so that I feel as if I can’t speak, can’t breathe, can’t think of anything but how fucking good it feels. My toes curl so hard that my feet nearly cramp, my hips bucking against his mouth, and he holds me down, his tongue still sliding over me until I’m lying, limp and gasping and twitching under his hands.

He stands up, a little unsteadily, and I can see the outline of his cock against the soft material of his joggers, jutting out hard and thick and ready for me. I reach for him, wanting the feeling of him in my hand, my mouth,anywhereI can have him, but Levin moves out of reach, his hands sliding around my waist as he lifts me up off of the couch.

“You said you wanted to go to the bed,” he murmurs. “So that’s what we’ll do.”

I’m ludicrously half-naked and as tipsy as he is, I’m not sure he should be carrying me up the stairs, but I can’t seem to make either of those thoughts stick. My head feels fuzzy with pleasure and lingering desire, and as Levin scoops me up and heads for the stairs, all I can think about is our bed, and all the things I want to do to him in it.

I haven’t even seen it in person yet. I don’t have time to take it all in when he pushes open the door to the bedroom, not to notice what our bedding looks like or how the furniture has been arranged, because he carries me directly to the bed, spilling me onto it and following me, his still-clothed body leaning over mine as he drags my shirt up over my head.

“You’re wearing…too many clothes…” I gasp as I hook my fingers in the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it upwards. I want it off of him, to see all that smooth, muscled, tattooed flesh, and Levin gladly complies. For once, there’s no arguing, no pausing for him to ask if I’m sure, to struggle with himself over what comes next. He sheds the t-shirt without a thought, throwing it aside, his own hands shoving his joggers down his hips, and I gasp as his cock springs free.

“You act like it’s a surprise,” he says with a half-grin on his face, leaning over me as I reach for him. “It’s not like you haven’t seen it before–ah–”

His words break off as I stroke my hand down the length of him, feeling him throb hot and hard against my palm, pre-cum streaking damply against my skin as his hips jerk forward, thrusting into my grasp. Everything about him has a slightly desperate edge right now, all those days of self-control melting away with the blurring of the alcohol, and one of his hands grips the pillow next to my head, his breaths coming short and quick.

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