Page 49 of Savage Don

Every time a warm breeze drifts up my thigh, I want to reach down and fan it.

Fucking hell. The way Ray touched me was sublime. Intoxicating. Evil.

He presented me with the temptations of hell, then he just left. But I guess he didn’t leave me empty-handed.

That was the first time anyone’s ever made me come at all, let alone so hard. Fuck. I don’t think I’ve ever made myself come so hard.

Will my own fingers ever be enough again?

I can still feel him controlling my clit; his powerful forearm pressing against my tits, holding me in place; his hot breath burning through the steam to invade my ear, to tell me what to do.

Holy hell. And that was just the beginning.

He didn’t even finger fuck me. What we did was just second base, right? A double. How the hell am I going to handle a home run?

The thought makes me nervous as I scuttle back towards the bedroom. I need another distraction.

After I ate, there was nothing left to keep me from going over all of the twisted possibilities that my future might hold—as well as all of the uncertainty that comes along with that.

Every time I try to concentrate on something else, Ray’s thick fingers come sliding back between my legs, and I only want to give in and touch myself to the memory of what happened only a few hours ago.

But now I’m more focused, and with a full belly, I decide that it will only drive me crazy to wait around for him to return. What happens next is up to me; now, it’s time to figure out what that is.

Step one in that endeavor is figuring out how I’m going to get my schoolwork done for the next few days.

Stumbling into the bedroom, I begin to search for any signs of my backpack. I can’t quite remember what I did with it at the frat house, but a flutter of panic rises in me as I search for it here.

God, that bag had my laptop in it. The textbooks can be replaced, but what’s on that hard drive cannot be replicated. All of those notes…

Shit. I’m sure Ray would sooner have me erase them all than have me worry about a single word. He’s already made it clear I’m not to take any notes. I’m to live in the moment.

And hell, did he give me a lesson in that. The only problem is, now I can’t forget it. I can’t relax either.

The warmth he left me with has long since evaporated, replaced by the cold harsh reality of my situation.

There are other, more pressing matters at hand.

At the forefront of them all is school. I’ve risked too much to abandon it now. Which, coincidentally, is why I’m here, in an older man’s bedroom, frantically searching for any sign of my backpack.

It’s hard to tell how long I’m looking, but by the time I hear something stir out in the hall, I’m no closer to finding my bag than I am at forgetting how Ray’s fingers made me squirm.

He’s branded me.

And what I hear next doesn’t help.

“Franny, I’m home!” Ray’s taunting voice echoes through the vast hallways outside.

“Don’t call me Franny!” I immediately hear myself shout back. What a disgusting and childish name. Hell, I’d rather be called slave girl.

“Of course, kitten. How silly of me to forget.”

My heart flutters involuntarily as Ray steps through the doorway, slipping into the bedroom with a big mischievous smile lifting up his sharp cheekbones.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask, unable to contain my suspicion. His dark eyes are studying me like I’m a gift he just can’t wait to unwrap.

“Just making sure you’re decent,” he teases.

“And am I?”