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Savannah nods quickly, biting her lips in anticipation, and pulls my hand back to the front of her panties. Her eagerness sends a shiver down my spine, making it abundantly clear that our attraction extends far beyond the physical realm.
Honestly? I find her brain as sexy as the rest of her.
"Please." It comes out as a whimper. Her voice is barely audible. "Cole, please. I need this."
I press a soft kiss right over her clit, feeling the heat of her arousal through the delicate fabric. Her back arches off the couch, her heels digging into my muscular back as she moans softly. Her fingers tangle in my hair, urging me closer, demanding more.
"God, Savannah," I murmur against her, my voice ragged with need. "You're so fucking sexy."
"Then don't hold back," she implores. Her words fuel my desire even further. "Take me, Cole. Make me yours."
Her plea sends a shiver down my spine, awakening a primal hunger within me that I've never experienced before.
I chuckle softly and oblige, my tongue darting out to lick the lace, savoring the taste of her desire. My fingers deftly tug at the sides of her panties, pulling them tight against her pussy. She surprises me by stifling a groan and tearing the delicate fabric. I take that as my cue to strip the garment off over her head, leaving her completely bare before me.
"Damn, Savannah." I murmur appreciatively into her skin, my eyes drinking in the sight of her glistening folds. "You're something else."
"Shut up and kiss me." Her voice is thick with need. I grin and dive back in, pressing searing kisses to her inner thighs, inching closer and closer to her core.
"Make me feel alive, Cole," she whispers. Her fingers twine in my hair, guiding me to where she needs me most. Her hips buck. The air hums with her desire and need.
I bury my face against her exposed pussy, feeling the heat and wetness radiating from her. As I start to lick her clit, she pushes my head closer with a hand on the back of my neck. Her hips begin to move instinctively. Her pussy grinds against my mouth. The taste of her arousal is intoxicating and it makes it nearly impossible to think straight.
"Fuck, Cole." She gasps. Her voice is strained as she struggles to stay quiet. She reaches for a pillow on the couch and presses it against her mouth to muffle her moans. The fear of being caught only heightens the excitement and danger of the moment.
Her body tenses beneath me as I focus on her clit. I apply just the right amount of pressure and feel her begin to quake.
Her entire body seizes up. I know she's close. I suck harder on her clit as her pussy begins twitching uncontrollably. She rides the intense wave of pleasure. Her moans are cried against the pillow pressed tightly against her lips.
She’s so vulnerable and uninhibited that it feels voyeuristic to watch her come apart. God. Damn.
As her orgasm subsides, she releases the pillow from her mouth, panting heavily. I can't help but feel a sense of pride at the pleasure I've given her. I allow myself to revel in the moment. It's thrilling to see her lose control like that. And even more exciting knowing that I'm the one who made it happen.
"Thank you, Cole," she breathes. Her eyes shine with a mixture of gratitude and unsated desire. "That was amazing."
"I adore you. So thought I would worship you the way that you ought to be idolized." I’m unable to tear my gaze away from her flushed cheeks and the way her eyes shine like precious gems in the dim light. Carefully, I reach down and tug her skirt back into place, hiding the evidence of our passionate encounter.
“You’re going to ruin me, Cole.” Her eyes are somber. “How will anyone ever be able to make me feel the way that you can?”
"Come here," I say softly scooting back onto the couch and holding out my arms for her.
Savannah doesn't hesitate for a moment. She practically collapses into my embrace as she cuddles against my side. I can feel the warmth of her skin pressed against mine, even through the thin layers of clothing separating us, and it sends a shiver of delight down my spine.
This woman is unquestionably all fucking mine. For now, at least. Tomorrow, I will have to give her up. But not now. Not yet…
33
Savannah
I stand rigid, my knees and elbows locked, and stare at Birdie and Grandad’s backs. I’m a couple steps behind them as they lay roses on my mother’s grave.
It feels like I’m viewing my family mourning my mother from the bottom of a pool. I blink to try to clear my vision. My chest tightens with the need to breathe. But I am still separated from them by a thick wall of water.
Birdie sniffles, and folds her hands in front of her body. Grandad reaches out and rubs her shoulder in a gesture of comfort. I wish that I could cry and wail and make enough of a racket that Grandad would notice me. That he would come hug me. But I can’t even begin to express my anguish over my mother’s death.
Taking a chink out of the dam that holds in my grief would surely allow the trickle of sadness. But that feeling would swell and unleash a torrent of heartache. It would wash me away in a raging river of misery, drown me in a tidal wave of pain. I can’t begin to cry, because it might be the beginning of the end of me.
Every time that I glance at my mom’s gravestone, a wave of seething anger engulfs me. I can’t figure out why or what’s going on.
