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Cosmos collide.
Heavens open.
Finally, my body explodes with an orgasm, so intense I feel my soul leave my body before it slams back into me. A scream, deep and guttural, is coming out of my mouth when I come back to my senses.
Savage pumps hard a few more times before he leans down and shockingly kisses me. He pulls his hand out my folds and squeezes my hip as he comes hard in my ass.
The slick cum soothes the burn and before he can even slide out of me I'm already a limp mass of exhaustion.
He says something, but I can't make out the words. He simply shakes his head and pulls his shirt off his body to put it on mine. He fixes himself in his sweats and lifts me off the ground.
I'm asleep before he even starts walking.
Chapter Eleven
At some point in the middle of the night, I wake up wrapped up with Savage. Both of us were sleeping like the dead and our limbs entwined. The ache in my body is deep and wonderful, but I can feel the grime on my skin. I still have the shirt he’d given me on, but I notice that he's clean and naked. Now that I have some sort of energy I need to get this dirt off. I softly move my legs from between his and try to shimmy out from under him.
“Where you going?” he grumbles out and grips my waist.
“Shower, I'm dirty.” Wondering slightly if he's going to demand that I stay like this.
He grunts and turns over, setting me free.
I stretch and put my feet on the floor as I pad over to the bathroom. There's one in the room with him, but I don't want to wake him. I'll go to the other one down the hall.
I walk into the large bathroom and turn the shower on until it's almost scalding. I get into the spray and wash the night off my skin, not like I'd be able to wash it from my memory. Savage had made sure my insides would remember tonight for a long time to come. Every part of me feels used—it's wonderful.
I stand under the spray for a long while and let my mind drift. Besides the new sexual kinks I just figured out I have, I'm still focused on the fact that I'm meant to be leaving in a few days. I'm expected to go back to my life with my judgmental parents and the friends who want to be near me, but don't really see me. I'm supposed to go back to a world that expects me to conform to what they think a pretty girl should be. I don't want to. I need to talk to Savage about starting something more permanent, but how can I do that? I don't know much about the man and he's never said anything about wanting to have any sort of a relationship with me.
My mind replays the interactions that we've had.
“I've been waiting for you for so long ... You're so perfect ... All mine.”
He might not have told me specifically, but he’d basically told me that I am perfect for him. We could grow on that. I'm sure of it. He can continue my training and we can be exactly what the other needs. The thought of going back to a normal relationship where I have to pretend I like what the man is doing to me is about as thrilling as going to the dentist. No, I want Savage.
I step out of the shower and wrap a large bath towel around my body before I pad back towards Savage's room. My subconscious gently reminds me about the whole office full of information on Savage. It's right there. I could find out more about him. Sure, he had caught me in there the first time, but he didn't seem upset. I was in the room and it had turned into a rather fun game. Painful, intense and mind-altering, but not angry.
I push open the door and I see the same scene as before. This time, instead of looking at the paintings or books I head straight for the desk. I pick up a photo of what appears to be a younger Savage with people who look like his mother and father. I turn it around and see the words, mom and dad. They look like a happy little family. I flip to the next picture and this one is a group shot of Savage as an adult, but before the scars and with two other men. One for sure is the man that was here earlier. I turn the photo around and see the description, 'the savage brothers,' these are his brothers. I wonder where the other one is. I push to the next photo and check the description on the back first and it says, ‘my platoon.’ When I flip it over I see Savage and eight other men all in army fatigues. I immediately recognize at least four of them, including the blond man with the wandering hands. I flip through the rest of the photos and I almost cry at how happy the man looks. What happened to my beast to make him so angry? Under the photos are a bunch of papers and I see a pile of various newspaper clippings. Some of them are older, and some are fresh. I look at the articles and instantly I know they're about Savage and his family.
The first one I turn over is an article about the anniversary of the Savage serial killers' death from a newspaper I've never heard about. I see mugshots of both his parents and read that they were responsible for a combined thirteen deaths. They were both executed in the prison system leaving three children, Damon Savage, Keenan Savage, and Winston Savage.
I flip through the articles faster and find a copy of some sort of medical document and in the corner is a small photo of my beast, his face littered with fresh scars. My eyes water at the information that I read on the photocopied sheet. Damon Savage—that's his name. My beast’s name is Damon.
He, along with the rest of his platoon, were prisoners of war for more than two years. Tortured both mentally and physically until he and the living members of his platoon were rescued. The document describes Damon's fears of becoming a murderer like his parents, because of his deeply violent fantasies. He's scared to interact with the rest of the world in fear that he might hurt someone. He sends millions of dollars each year from the trust fund his grandparents had set up for him and the rest of his family to charities for veterans and POW survivors. Despite all his acts of good service, he feels it's his job to continue to atone for the sins of his parents. He feels unlovable.
My beast is nothing more than a lonely man hiding from the world. He doesn't need to. There's nothing wrong with him.
I put his papers back the way I had found them and sneak out of the room. I don't need any more information to figure out what kind of person he is. I know all I need to know.
* * *
I go through the next day completing my chores as expected. I do them perfectly, so much so that Savage has no complaints. Just as lunch comes around and I prepare his meal to feed him I can't stand the anxiety of not knowing what the future holds any longer. I need to talk to him.
I wait for him to finish his meal and just as he's going to dismiss me I sit down in the chair next to him.
“Savage, can I speak with you about something? It's important.”
He squints his eyes, but leans back in his chair and waves his hand indicating that I should proceed.
