Page 98 of The Savage

‘You,’ she whispers.

And that single word is enough to make me lose every last shred of restraint I’m pretending to have.

14

RENZO

The air in the bedroom is thick with the kind of tension that makes my skin prickle, my pulse thrumming in my ears like a warning. Her dark eyes flash, and her chest rises and falls with sharp, uneven breaths. She’s still wound tight, ready to snap – and fuck if that doesn’t make my cock twitch in my pants.

I head for the bed and take dirty, immense pleasure in tossing her onto it, watching her bounce on the thick bedding.

My arm throbs – a fucking reminder of my own stupidity. The pain is a dull pulse now, manageable, but the way she keeps glancing at it – like she’s afraid I’ll shatter if she breathes too hard – grates on my nerves. I’m not fragile. And I sure as hell am not about to let her treat me like I am.

‘You going to simmer down now?’ I ask, my voice low, rough with the kind of command that usually makes her bristle or obey.

She freezes mid-bounce, her back stiffening like I’ve just thrown a match into gasoline. Slowly, she turns, lips parted, cheeks flushed with the kind of anger that always burns hottest right before it turns into something else. Something hungrier.

‘Are you going to make more threats?’ she snaps, her voice sharp enough to cut.

I smirk, letting my gaze drag over her – the way her thin shirt clings to her breasts, the way her nipples are already tight beneath the fabric, betraying her.

‘Threats? No, baby, those were diamond-hard promises. Like your nipples are right now.’

The words hang between us, heavy and filthy, and her breath hitches.

‘There’s still time to do the right thing. Your choice, amore.’

For a second she just stares at me, chest heaving, fingers curling into fists at her sides. Then – like a storm breaking – she lunges. Her palms slam against my chest, shoving me back a step, and I let her – just for a second – before my good arm snaps around her waist, hauling her against me.

She gasps as her thighs straddle my hips, her heat pressing right against the bulge straining against my pants.

‘Stop, Renzo,’ she hisses, but her fingers are already tangling in my hair, yanking hard enough to make my scalp sting. ‘Your arm⁠—’

‘Is fine,’ I growl, cutting her off. My hand slides up her back to grip the nape of her neck, forcing her closer. ‘And you don’t get to tell me to take care of myself when you won’t take care of yourself.’

Her lips crash onto mine before I even finish speaking, her kiss all teeth and tongue, desperate and furious. She groans into my mouth as her hips grind down against me, and I can feel how wet she already is, even through the layers of fabric. My free hand slides down, palming her ass, squeezing hard enough to make her whimper.

‘You drive me mad,’ she murmurs against my lips, her voice rough, her breath hot.

‘Good,’ I rasp back, my cock throbbing, my control fraying. ‘It’s only fair. You’ve been driving me crazy since we met.’

She pulls back just enough to glare at me, her lips swollen, her eyes dark with need. ‘Tell me how we met.’

I chuckle, low and dark, my thumb brushing over her bottom lip. ‘Later.’ My voice drops to a growl. ‘I need to fuck you now.’

Her answer is a sharp, needy sound, her nails digging into my shoulders as I straighten, lifting her with me like she weighs nothing. She wraps her legs around my waist, her skirt riding up, her panties – fuck, are those even there? – already damp against my stomach. I don’t bother checking. I don’t need to. I can smell her, sweet and musky, and it makes my mouth water.

She’s trembling, her fingers fumbling with my belt, her movements frantic.

‘Easy,’ I murmur, but she’s not listening. She yanks my zipper down, her small hand wraps around my cock, and I hiss at the contact, my hips jerking forward involuntarily. She strokes me once, twice, swipes her thumb over the slick head, and I groan, my grip on her ass tightening.

‘Enough,’ I growl, and then I’m dragging her to the edge of the bed, spreading her legs wide to step between them. I don’t give her time to react. I’m on my knees in front of her before she can even catch her next breath, my hands sliding up her thighs, pushing her dress’s hem up to her hips. Her panties are gone – did I tear them off or just lose them in the frenzy? – and her pussy is right there, glistening, swollen, begging for my mouth.

I don’t tease or take my time. I’m a little anxious and a lot ravenous for another taste of her tight cunt, so I bury my face between her thighs, my tongue dragging through her folds, and she cries out, her back arching off the bed, her fingers spearing into my hair.

She tastes like defiance, heat, and fucking life itself, and I lap at her greedily, my lips sealing around her clit, sucking hard. Her thighs clamp around my head and her hips buck hard as her moans fill the room, high and broken and exquisite.

‘Renzo—’