Page 54 of Savage Saint

Who might have eyes on my Pocket Doc now?

“Fuck, man. At the moment, I can’t deny it.”

Silence fills the line. Then, “That’s a problem.”

“It is.”

“You think she was seen? The nurse?” I’m not surprised he’d ask about her. Genesis saved him, not Doc, and all De La Cruz men are overprotective once you’re brought into the fold. Thing is, I’m a possessive man, and she’s mine to protect, not his.

My debt. My Pocket Doc.

“We assume the worst until we know otherwise, brother. Now call the lockdown…I have somewhere to be.”

I end the call before he can ask me one more thing, and slip out of my boxer briefs. They go in the hamper along with the other filthy clothes before I step into the hot, steaming shower.

My mother and Klara are safe behind club gates, surrounded by men who’d bleed before letting anyone hurt them. Genesis isn’t.

She’s alone, outside my protection, and the thought settles wrong in my chest. I was already going to see her; now staying away isn’t an option.

The hot shower hits my back, and what would usually loosen my tense muscles does nothing for me. I’m still too wired. Too much tension sits beneath my skin. Too much anger with nowhere productive to go.

Grabbing the body wash, I pour a large amount and let out a groan the moment the scent hits me. She smelled like me that morning. Woodsy with notes of leather and rum, but underneath there was a subtle hint of honeyed mango.

I liked it then.

I want it now.

“Fuck,” I groan out, my hand dropping to my thick cock. I’m hard, throbbing with unleashed energy, and can’t get that beautiful face out of my head. My hips thrust forward as I remember the way my shirt clung to her chest, her nipples tight against the fabric. How she bit her bottom lip while she tapped her right foot, coquettish actions I don’t think Genesis was aware of doing.

“Why can’t I get her out of my head?” It’s an angry hiss—I don’t have time for distraction, but this tiny female has something I want.

A challenge. Someone who doesn’t bend over because I snap a finger.

The way she took over Doc’s treatment room was sexy.

Even the way she narrowed her eyes at me when I stepped in to move Trino made my cock jerk behind the zipper of my jeans.

Mouthy. Tiny. Cute in her annoyance.

My thumb strokes the swollen head, spreading the beads of pre-come down my shaft as I fuck my hand to thoughts of her. Of how good she felt in my arms, the way she curled into me as I carried her out of the clubhouse while she smelled of me.

I was on her skin.

She’d look gorgeous on her knees; lips stretched around my cock—choking—as I fist the back of her head. Use her mouth while she watched me. Smiled at me…

I pump faster, one palm flat on the black marble wall, my fist twisting on every downward stroke. My balls felt heavy—my skin fucking sensitive and stretched tight—and when my pinky flicks the barbell of my lorum piercing, it sends a pleasurable jolt down my shaft to the scrotum, and a low grunt escapes me as my orgasm hits me with the strength of a battering ram.

Rope after rope of come hits the black-marbled wall before sliding down. It’s a messy abstract masterpiece I want to paint on her skin, and I don’t stop stroking until the last drop drips from the swollen tip.

Watch it run down and disappear into the drain as I make a few decisions.

The first is putting my eyes on her.

The second is making sure she gets used to my presence. My touch.

I need to test just how deep she’ll bite.

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