Page 142 of Marrying the Savage

My legs wrap around his hips automatically. His cock presses against me through his trousers, big and hard and perfectly positioned between my thighs.

I choke on a breath.

“Already?” he murmurs.

“Don’t sound pleased.”

“I am pleased.”

“I hate you.”

“You say that when you’re wet.”

My face burns. He shifts his hips, grinding the thick ridge of his cock against me, and I make a sound I would deny under oath.

His mouth returns to my breast, and he sucks one nipple deep while rubbing himself against me through layers of fabric. The friction is not enough. It’s too much. It’s both at once, and I tighten my legs around him, trying to get closer.

He notices immediately. “So impatient,” he says.

“I’m not.”

His hand slides under my skirt, up my thigh, and finds the damp heat between my legs. His fingers press against me through my underwear. I stop breathing.

Damir lifts his head, eyes locked on mine. “No?”

My answer is a pant.

The smug bastard smiles. Then he pulls my underwear aside and touches my clit. Directly. I jerk in his arms.

“Oh.” The sound leaves me soft and shocked, and his eyes darken like I have given him something.

He rubs my clit slowly, maddening circles that make sparks burst under my skin. My legs tighten around his waist. I’m pinned between him and the wall, completely held up by his body, his fingers between my thighs, his mouth close enough to swallow every sound I make.

“You are soaked,” he says.

I close my eyes. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Say things like that.”

His finger slides lower, through the wetness of me, then back to my clit. “Why?”

“Because you sound too satisfied.”

“I am.”

I should say something clever. I can’t.

His finger circles faster, and my hips move on their own, chasing the pressure. His mouth finds my breast again, and he sucks my nipple while rubbing my clit until my whole body goes loose and desperate in his arms.

“Damir,” I gasp.

“I know what you need, baby.”

He slides two fingers inside me. The words vanish. My head falls back against the wall, and a low moan spills out of me as he fills me with his fingers, curling them exactly where he knows I need it. My body clenches around him immediately, still sensitive from last night, still sore, still hungry.

He kisses me hard. When he brings his thumb back to my clit, it nearly makes me come then and there. His fingers move inside me, deep and slow, while his thumb keeps circling. I’m panting now, shamelessly, my breasts exposed, dress torn open, legs wrapped around him. Every thrust of his fingers pushes me higher. Every stroke against my clit makes my thighs tremble around his hips.