Page 45 of Savage Love

“Fuck, that feels good—” His head drops down, his forehead pressing against mine as he kisses me, hips still moving against my hand as I stroke him. I like feeling him like this, hard and needy, and I want it to last.

He groans my name as I arch upwards, guiding him between my legs, and I hear his hiss of pleasure as his swollen cockhead presses against my drenched entrance, sliding in. I clench around him instantly, tight and wanting, and I feel the shudder that goes through him as he tries not to thrust all the way immediately.

“Not too fast,” I whisper, letting go of him as I run my hands down his back, feeling his muscles flex under my touch. “I want–”

I don’t have time to say what it is that I want. His mouth covers mine again, his tongue sliding possessively into my mouth as he slides deeper into my body, filling me up inch by inch as he does exactly as I asked, giving me each inch slowly, letting me feel it. I tangle my legs around his, and it feels so fucking good.Hefeels so good.

“That’s perfect,” I whisper, arching up to take that last bit of him as he slips into me as deeply as he can go, and Levin groans.

“No, you are.” He murmurs the words against my hair, his hips starting to move. I feel a well of emotion tightening my chest, feelings that I push away as I grab his arms, bracing myself for the waves of pleasure that roll over me with each delicious thrust.

I dig my fingers into his shoulders, pulling him tighter against me, wanting to feel the hot slide of his skin against me, the sheen of sweat gathering between us, the way his chest catches and heaves with his breath as he thrusts into me harder. I wantthis, all of the time, the way he makes me feel, these moments when he’s entirely himself with me and nothing else. I hear him groan my name, his hips shuddering as he pushes all the way into me and holds himself there for a moment, and then suddenly, he’s sliding free, hands rolling me onto my side as I moan with frustration at the sudden emptiness.

“Not for long,malysh,” he murmurs into my ear, his hard, muscled body curling behind me as he pulls me tightly backward against him, one hand sliding under my thigh and lifting it as he guides his cock inside of me again. His other arm slides beneath my head, curled around my body with his fingers stroking my breast, and the position is intensely intimate.

I know he’s only doing this because he’s drunk, that if he were sober, he’d think twice about this, about the intimacy of it. I can feel his handseverywhere, his muscled bulk pressed to my back as he cradles me against him, cock moving in slow thrusts inside of me as the hand, not cupping my breast, slides between my thighs and begins to play with my clit. He rolls my sensitive, swollen flesh between his fingers, making me gasp and my back arch with the jolts of pleasure that it sends through me. I’m on the verge of coming again as he pushes himself inside of me as deeply as he can go, grinding against me as he holds me there.

“Oh god, I—” I gasp as he presses his fingers against me a little more roughly, jolting his hips upwards. My back arches, driving myself back into him as the climax starts to crash over me, consuming me as I feel his mouth press against my shoulder, teeth grazing my skin. I don’t want it to ever stop. I don’t wanthimto ever stop, and I hear myself moan it as he rolls me onto my stomach, hips moving faster as he thrusts into me from behind, his fingers still rolling over my clit as I come for him in what feels like an endless tidal wave of pleasure.

“Fuck,I don’t want to come yet–fuck–I can’t–” Levin groans from above me, leaning into me, his mouth against my neck as I feel him stiffen and shudder, one hand gripping the pillow next to my head and the other hard on my hip as he starts to come, and I can feel the hot rush of it filling me.

He stays like that for a long moment, pressing me down into the mattress, hips moving in sharp, quick movements, and I don’t want him to move. I want him to stay like that, his hot, hard body against mine, the quick sound of his breathing in my ear, the heat of him filling me up.

But it ends. It always ends. He rolls off of me, breathing hard, and as I roll to face him, I brace myself for the moment that he pulls away and shuts down.

“Fuck, Elena–” he breathes my name, and as I hesitantly move towards him, wanting to curl into the warmth of his body, I feel his arm go around my shoulders.

He holds me against his chest, and I breathe in the warm, piney scent of him, closing my eyes as a flood of emotion fills me. We’re in our bed, in our bedroom, in our house—and I let myself sink briefly into the moment, wanting to remember this, our first night here.

“Do you like the house?” I ask softly, hooking one of my legs over his, wanting to be as close to him as I can. “I didn’t know if you’d get home first.”

I feel him press his lips to the top of my head, his fingers trailing through my hair. “I do,” he says softly. “You made a good choice.”

“I think so too,” I whisper, my cheek pillowed against him, but I’m not talking about the house any longer, and I wonder if he knows that. If he knows how many things I want to say to him that I can’t.

It feels like a bittersweet moment, lying there in his arms. It’s everything I want and everything that I know I’ll only have for a little while.Isn’t that better than not having it at all?I ask myself as I feel his breathing even out beneath my cheek, and I know he’s fallen asleep.You can have a part of him, or nothing at all. Isn’t that better?

There would have been a time when I would have innocently thought that,of course, it’s better.But now I’m no longer sure.

He knows I love him now,I realize as I lie there.And I don’t think he was so drunk that he’ll forget it in the morning.I feel that flush of heat creep up my cheeks again, even though I feel certain that he won’t mention it.

But he knows. I can’t take it back, and I wish I could.

I hadn’t wanted to be the one to say it first.

Levin

The first weeks of Elena and I living in our new house were not what I expected.

Though I’m not sure what I expected, exactly. The last time I was married—the last time I lived with someone—I was a very different man.

Staying at Isabella and Niall’s was easier. After twelve long years of living alone, I’d developed a routine, an ease to being by myself. While staying with them, it didn’t feel so different. Elena and I had existed in a kind of limbo, going to bed together and waking up together, but without any of the rest of the responsibilities and routines that come from living together.

Now, that’s changed. I’ve had to learn how to live in someone else’s space again, to share it. And with that has come learning things about her that have drawn me closer to her without my meaning for it to happen—simply because it’s impossible to live with a person and not have that occur.

I already knew how she looked when she first woke up in the morning, sleepy-eyed with her hair tangled around her face, how she burrows down into the pillow and tries to pretend that it’s not time to get up yet. I’ve already become accustomed to waking up wanting her, my body hard and aching, and forcing that desire away, telling myself that the more often that we’re together, the more I give in to what I want, the harder it will be on us both.

I’m starting to wonder if that’s true—because it feels just as difficult, no matter what.

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