Page 47 of Killer (Savages 2)


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And there was no denying it; I wanted him. I wanted him from the moment I laid eyes on him. I wanted him every time he called me 'angel' or 'baby' or 'darlin''. I wanted him every time his smile slanted in my direction. I wanted him. So what if it was temporary? Everything is temporary given enough time. What good would it do to deny myself this? He was already in; I already had the Johnnie -shaped cutout inside my chest somewhere. It was going to hurt no matter what when he left. So why not give this to myself?

"I don't want to stop," I said, my voice barely loud enough to even be considered a whisper, but his body jerked in surprise and I knew he heard me. "I..." I swallowed hard against the awkwardness of admitting the truth and forced the words out, "I want you."

His chest inflated as his eyes closed for a second. The air left him slowly and a hand moved up to cup my jaw. "We stop anytime you say the word. Okay?"

I felt myself nod before my arms finally went up and around his shoulders, holding him close. His hardness pressed against me, his swishy shorts material doing nothing to contain him. His arms wrapped me up and squeezed me as his body turned me and lowered me onto the mattress, his following me down, covering me, one of his knees pressing between my thighs, both his arms balancing his weight as his lips pressed down to mine, deep and long and wet. His mouth trailed down my jaw, then toward my neck, my head moving to the side to beg for more.

I'd felt him between my thighs just the night before; I felt his tongue lavishing over me and, at the time, I never thought anything could feel more intimate, but the way he was gently worshiping over every exposed inch of my skin, slowly, like he was committing it to memory, this was intimacy. His head shifted downward and took one of my nipples into his mouth, sucking lightly before running his tongue over it, his tongue ring making an occasional pass, sending off an electric shot of desire at every stroke. My hand moved out, trailing across the back of his neck, the other gliding down his back. His head tilted and moved over my chest to tease my other nipple as he moved to balance his weight on one arm. His free hand trailed back down my body, slipping a finger easily back inside me and driving me back upward, faster. He slipped another finger inside, doing the thrusting, twirling thing again and I realized as his mouth left my breast and started moving down my stomach, that he was stretching me. He was preparing me. His head reached the triangle above my sex and soon all thoughts disappeared as his lips closed around my clit.

My feet planted on the mattress, my hips rising up with each thrust of his fingers, trying to drive myself closer. But then he was lifting his head up, moving over my body again, his lips teasing mine for a minute as his fingers kept up their slow torment. "You sure?" he asked, his voice a gruff whisper as he pushed up to look down at me.

Looking up into his eyes, I had never been more sure of anything before. "Yes," I said, moving a hand up to cup his jaw like he did to me and he turned his head and kissed my palm gently before pulling his fingers from me and moving off the bed. He opened a drawer in his bedside table, pulling out a silver condom wrapper and slipping his shorts down his hips. I got my first glimpse of his hard length as he stroked it once, bent slightly forward as he slid the condom down himself then turned back toward me, kneeling at the edge of the bed for a second before slowly moving over me again.

"Nervous?" he asked as he settled between my spread legs and I felt his erection lay against my sex. There was that, in the coiled sensation in my stomach, in the erratic pulse in my throat, wrists, temples. But, more than that, there was want, there was curiosity. I felt my head nod a little and he leaned down and kissed the tip of my nose. "I'm gonna take good care of you, baby," he murmured and his hips rocked, making his hardness stroke over my cleft, hitting my clit in a delicious new sensation. I felt another rush of wetness as my hands slapped down on his shoulders, curling in slightly as his hand slid between us, grabbing himself and positioning at the entrance to my body, holding there, just a firm pressure before the pressure became slightly more, a pinching, a burning sensation that had my body jerking upward. "I know," he murmured, leaning down and kissing my lips gently. "Breathe, honey," he instructed as the pinching, burning sensation intensified and I felt him sliding inside me. I exhaled a breath that shook as my fingers stopped gripping his back and moved to press against his shoulders, not sure if I wanted to push him away or hold on.

His hand released himself and I felt his finger move up to circle my clit again. He pressed forward slightly, bringing another wave of pain that he quickly distracted me from with a swipe of his finger. He paused halfway in, leaning down and taking my lips. "You okay?" he murmured against them, rocking his hips in a way that they never quite pulled away or thrust forward, just created a friction inside that dulled the ache.

My eyes opened slowly to see his face, a slight tension around his eyes, a heat in the green depths. And I realized I was. It hurt. It was a foreign, uncomfortable sensation that was half-pain and half-unfamiliarity, but it wasn't like I had been expecting. It wasn't the blinding, shattering pain my college roommate described experiencing when she was sixteen, losing her virginity in the backseat of a car to a boy who didn't know or didn't care about her discomfort. This was the twinge of newness, of my body stretching to accommodate someone who was taking the time to allow it to do so.

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