Page 3 of Chains and Vows

She gives me this look. Part smile, part invitation. Then she takes my hand, warm fingers sliding between mine, and leads me toward the stairs.

I follow Savannah up the stairs, watchin' her hips move under that dress. She leads me into her bedroom. The space still feels too perfect. Too clean for someone like me. But tonight I don't give a fuck about deserving. Tonight I'm takin' what's mine.

I drop my backpack on the floor, and it lands with a thud that feels final somehow. Like I'm plantin' a flag.

Savannah turns around, her back to me, lookin' over her shoulder with those blue eyes. "Unbutton me?"

I step closer, and my hands find the first little pearl button at her neckline. I take my time with each one, workin' my way down her spine. One by one, slow and deliberate. Her skin appears in the openin' gap, pale and perfect in the low light. Each revealed inch feels like somethin' sacred I don't deserve to touch, but I'm touchin' anyway.

"You're takin' forever," she whispers, and I can hear the smile in her voice.

"Good things come to those who wait." I press my lips to the curve where her neck meets her shoulder. She shivers and I keep goin' with those tiny fuckin' buttons. Finally get to the last one just above the curve of her ass.

I slide the dress down her shoulders, and it falls to the floor in a pool of fabric. She turns around wearin' nothin' but a pale pink lace bra and matchin' panties that make my mouth go dry. High-waisted, vintage-lookin' things that show off her ass and hug her hips right where I want my hands to be.

She smiles at me, knowin' exactly what she's doin'. Then her fingers find the collar of my cut, and she slides it down my arms. The leather hits the floor next to her dress, and somethin' about seein' them there together—the prairie dress and the club cut—feels right in a way I can't explain.

I grab the back of my shirt and pull it over my head in one motion, tossin' it onto the pile. Her eyes move over my chest, and her fingers follow, tracin' the outlines of my demons. The fallen angels. The serpents. All the darkness I've carved into my skin to remind me what I am.

Her touch is so light it almost tickles, but I stand there and take it because I need her hands on me more than I need air.

She looks up, catchin' my eyes with that blue stare that goes right through me. "They won't win, you know."

"What?" I ask, even though I know exactly what she means.

"The demons." Her hand is warm against the center of my chest. "They won't win."

"How can you be so fuckin' sure?" My voice comes out rougher than I meant it to.

She doesn't answer with words. Just pops the button on my jeans and drags the zipper down slow, her knuckles brushin' against my cock through the denim. Then her hand is slidin' inside, wrappin' around me, and I hiss through my teeth at the heat of her touch.

"It's already written," she says, strokin' me slow. "We win."

Savannah drops to her knees right in front of me like she's prayin'. She tugs my jeans down over my hips just enough, not botherin' with the rest. Just far enough to get what she's after.

My cock pulses in her hand as she wraps those perfect fingers around it. She stares at it while she pumps, slow and deliberate, like she's studyin' something worth her full attention.

Her lips part slightly, and I swear I stop breathin' for a second when her tongue slides across them, leavin' them wet and shinin' in the dim light. Then she catches that bottom lip between her teeth, looks up at me with those blue eyes, and brings the tip of my cock to her mouth.

Fuck.

I thread my fingers into her hair, not grabbin', just holdin', feelin' the silk of it against my rough hands. I lean my hips forward, pushin' deeper into the wet heat of her mouth.

Her lips close around me, and she never breaks eye contact. Not once. Just looks right up at me like she can see every demon inked into my skin and every one hidin' deeper, and she's suckin' them all out through my cock.

I take a moment to count my blessings. Savannah Ashby is a blessing all on her own. All these years, ever since I was fourteen standin' outside that silo listenin' to her sing, I've felt… less than.

Not good enough.

But tonight, standin' here with her on her knees takin' me into her mouth, I feel worthy.

I let myself have this. I let myself be the man she sees when she looks at me like that.

She hollows her cheeks, pulls back slow until just the tip is restin' on her tongue, then takes me deep again. Over and over, her pace steady, like she's got all night to do this one thing.

Savannah knows exactly how to take me apart. How to find the edges of my control and just... push. My fingers stay light in her hair. Feelin' the silk of it slidin' through. Lettin' her set the rhythm.

She pulls off with a wet sound that makes my cock twitch, a string of spit connectin' her lips to the head. "You don't have to be so gentle with me," she whispers, voice already rough.