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She was like liquid silk in my arms, flowing into me, conforming around me like she was meant to be there.
And maybe she was.
Because Savannah was prickly. She wasn’t born to conform. She wasn’t made to be silk.
Except with me.
I let her stake her own claim, let her thrust her tongue against mine, panting as she tried to get closer, to burrow into me as her arms slid around my neck and she ground her pussy against me some more.
When she was rocking faster, faster, I added pressure to the move, shoving my leg higher and pressing her down harder.
She winced a second, released a shaky breath, then wiggled, and I figured I’d pushed down on that shallow cut to her upper thigh. Letting her find her own comfort levels, letting her find her pleasure, I watched as she got back into the groove.
The nearer her approach to orgasm, the less insistent her kiss was, so I took it over, well aware that, though the doors were closed so no one could see us, the maître d’ might be able to hear us.
But I didn’t stop.
She’d come to learn that I’d always take care of her.
Even if she didn’t want me to.
So I took over the kiss, fucking her mouth like I couldn’t fuck her pussy just yet, and then, as she started to orgasm, I kept her tongue busy to reduce the noise she made.
No one would hear her this way.
Ever.
As she came down, I held her tight as she slumped into me, then I drew kisses along her cheekbone, moving until I reached her ear.
"That ass is going to be mine. Every fucking part of you is going to be mine.
"I’m going to fill every hole you’ve got with my cum, until your body is stamped with my scent, stamped with me." I nipped her earlobe. "And I know you’re going to be okay with that, because you want that as much as I do."
She released a shaky breath, and her mahogany hair tickled my cheek as she nodded. The scent of vanilla and chocolate filled my senses. Rich and deep, evocative and musky. Her. Just Savannah. Better than cookies or any kind of dessert. Even my ma’s.
With a final nip to her earlobe, I started to straighten up, then I asked, "Are you okay to stand?"
When she peered up at me with big eyes, I knew I’d found the way to de-prick the most prickly woman in the universe—just pet her until she purred.
Satisfied with her, so fucking thrilled with her responsiveness right at that moment, I couldn’t stop myself from pressing a kiss to her lips, then helping her straighten up.
On those ice picks for shoes, I knew she might be a bit wobbly, so I clamped her to my side and said, "Come on, little one, let’s save Jen from herself."
