“We need these.” She hands me one and I drink half of it in one gulp, while she does the same.
That had to be uncomfortable for her, no matter how much she’s trying to be supportive. “I’m sorry…”
“No,” she says, sitting forward toward me, “you don’t apologize for those assholes. Let’s just forget they exist and get back to enjoying all the lovely pussy art.”
Grinning, I lean forward until we are a breath from each other. “You’re pretty incredible, you know that?”
She bats her eyelashes coquettishly. “I do.”
“Good.” I kiss her, intending it to be sweet and gentle, but she slides her arms around my neck and crushes her mouth against me, twining her tongue with mine.
When she pulls away, she smiles at me and stands, draining her champagne before walking over to the painting. “So, what do you think of this one?”
The sexual tension in the elevator on the ride back up to Savage’s place is palpable. We didn’t see Becca and Andrew the rest of the evening. I imagine after our encounter with them, they fled the gallery as quickly as possible. Somehow, we managed to forget the awkwardness and tension of the confrontation and still have a wonderful evening together.
Maggie definitely loves vagina. I don’t know if she’s a lesbian or not, but she definitely has love for the female anatomy. There’s simply no other explanation for the walls upon walls of paintings depicting female genitalia. The snickers and looks from the other patrons at the event make me confident we were not the only ones to notice a theme. That being said, the woman has talent. A lot of talent. If I were a gynecologist, I would have bought one of the pieces for my waiting room. It would certainly be a conversation piece.
Staring at vagina and flirting with Savage all night, not to mention the four or five glasses of champagne we both drank, left me wet, hot, and needy by the time we climbed into the car. Savage must have sensed my distress, because almost as soon as we got on the road, his hand was sliding up my thigh and between my legs.
The moment his fingers found my wet core and clit, I almost cried out in relief. Somehow, I managed to bite my lip and control myself so the poor driver didn’t have to sit and listen to us fooling around in the backseat like horny teenagers.
Two fucking times. He made me come twice during that short ten-minute ride. God, that man’s hands…
Now, this elevator ride is never-ending. The need coiled inside me is driving me to the brink of madness. It has been months, and I still haven’t felt Savage inside me. The man is hung like a horse—I’ve seen, felt, licked, and sucked the evidence.
His desire for me is clear.
But still…no sex.
I’m trying not to read too much into it, but something has to give. After he flat out rejected me after I threw myself at him in the sexiest lingerie I could find, I almost lost it.
Frustration isn’t strong enough of a word to describe how it felt, how it feels. I gave him the silent treatment for a couple days, but ultimately couldn’t bring myself to cut things off. Not when he sent me his now-signature white roses.
The ding of the elevator breaks my train of thought, and I follow Savage down the hall to his door. I open it for him and Princess jumps up into his lap as soon as we walk in.
“Do you need to take her out?”
“No,” he says, picking her up and letting her lick his face, “Gabe sent me a text about fifteen minutes ago telling me he already took her when he got home.”
“Wow, Gabe beat us home? That’s gotta be a first.” I laugh and run my hand back through his hair. “Let’s go to bed.” He tilts his head into my touch and looks up at me with clear understanding burning in his eyes.
Thank God he needs this as much as I do.
“Excellent plan,” he replies, pulling my hand from his hair and kissing it. He orders Princess to go to bed and she scampers off across the living room to her bed in the corner. He follows me down the hall to the bedroom.
He disappears into the closet to get out of his tux while I slip my off my dress and head to the bathroom.
My heart races in anticipation of tonight. I’ve never been nervous for sex—ever. But tonight, with Savage, it’s different. It actually means something, and that is fucking terrifying. I don’t know how I know it will be tonight, maybe it was the run-in with Becca, but deep in my gut, I know he knows it’s time.
Several deep, steadying breaths later, I emerge to find him already in bed waiting for me, a storm of desire in his gaze. I move toward the bed slowly, watching him watch me. The way his eyes roam my naked body sends a shiver of anticipation down my spine and causes my already needy body cry out for his touch.