Savage (The Kingwood Duet #1)

“Growly’s is a bar.”

“Yes, I know.” He laughs then settles on a smirk that could make him dangerous to be around after a few drinks.

“I can’t tonight. Thanks, but maybe another time.”

“I’ll ask again.”

Nodding, I smile to myself and turn around, having a feeling he keeps his promises.

There’s another car parked at the motel. There’s rarely another car parked at the motel. This isn’t a town where people stop, much less stay in, unless they’re looking to disappear for a while, like me. I find my steps slowing, my heartbeat picking up.

I look inside the car as I pass. It’s empty, and I find myself scanning the area and across the street to the diner. I don’t see any signs of the owner. Pulling my key from my purse, I unlock the door and go inside quickly. I toss my purse on the dresser and set the bottle down before closing the curtains.

My paranoia is going haywire. No one can find me, I remind myself. I’m not even using my real name. There’s no record of me here or anywhere for that matter. I destroyed my bank cards the day I arrived. I threw my phone off a bridge into a river one hundred feet below. I’m untraceable.

I peek out the curtains. No one in the vicinity. I go for the wine, the good feelings Eric filled me with disappeared the second a threat was poised to expose me. I get a glass from the towel in the bathroom where I left them drying last night. Standing at the dresser, I peel the foil away from the top of the wine bottle and stare at it. Angling my head to the side, disappointment rolls through me when I realize I need a corkscrew.

This would have been my first legal drink and I can’t drink it. Damn it.

I look around the room for anything I can use to wedge the cork in or out of that bottle. Pen. Lip gloss. Spoon. Knife.

Knife.

I grab the knife from the bathroom counter and return to the bottle. Stabbing it a few times only pulls apart the cork, dropping pieces onto the dresser. “Fuck.” I throw the knife down. As it skids across the cheap laminate surface, I drop down on the bed and cry, letting my bottled-up emotions pour out. It’s been a few days since I was overcome and this is my penance . . .

I’ve never seen Alexander shy like he is now—strong, capable, arrogant—but never shy. He stands in the middle of his bedroom, his head lowered, eyes peeking up at me. “Bedroom?” I ask. “This is bigger than the whole upstairs of my house.”

“They call them quarters.”

“They?”

“The staff.”

Nodding, I repeat, “The staff. Right. And what do you call this place?”

“My quarters.”

I burst out laughing in response, which makes him smile. “I never felt poor until I was standing in the middle of your quarters.”

“You’re not.”

“I know.” I grab the hem of my plaid, pleated Catholic school uniform skirt. “I go to private school, but man, Alexander, this place is huge.” I move to the doors that lead to the balcony and open them. Stepping out, the fresh air settles my nerves until I look beyond the balcony. “That’s the backyard?”

“Thirty acres.”

“I live in a neighborhood with the creepy boy, whose bedroom window looks into mine, less than a dozen feet away.” Turning around, I lean against the balcony and look at Alexander who remains where I left him. “Nobody can hear you scream here.”

“Do you plan on screaming?”

“Just noting.”

“I shouldn’t have brought you here. I knew it was a mistake.” He moves to the end of the bed. “That’s why I never brought you here before.”

“Why didn’t you? You’ve never given me a good reason.”

“I never wanted you to look at me like you’re looking at me now.”

I go inside and stand in front of him, nudging his feet with mine. He parts them and I slide between his parted knees. When he looks up at me, I ask, “How am I looking at you?”

“Like you don’t know me at all.”

“I know you, Alexander. I know who you are deep down. I see the soul of the man. I see you. I know where your heart lies, your goodness lives, and where your thoughts wander. I know because I’m just like you.”

“You’re not like me. You’re better.”

“No, I’m not better. I’m just better at hiding it.” I lean down and kiss him. His lips taste of the cinnamon gum he was chewing, the gum he tossed when he saw me after school.

His hands cover my hips, rocking them just enough to tempt me for more. Reaching down, I touch his erection over his jeans, and whisper, “Make love to me.”

I’m flung onto my back on the bed and he’s over me, kissing my neck. One of his hands slides under my skirt. “You’re sin wrapped in a good-girl package.” Goosebumps cover the skin of my inner thigh. When the tips of his fingers reach under my panties, he says, “I want you.”

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” I say on a wanton breath.

“I love you, Sara Jane.”

“I love—ah, God.” One finger enters, another teasing my clit.

“What do you love, baby?”

“You. I love you,” I reply, my moans louder than my words. The other finger is added and my hips respond. “Please, Alexander. Please.”

“As much as I love watching you squirm, I fucking love hearing you beg for my cock.” My cheeks heat from his dirty words. “You want my cock in your wet, silky pussy?”

“Alexander,” I say, not used to that kind of talk.

“Baby, say it for me.” He watches my face while fucking me with his fingers. “Tell me what you want and I’ll give you anything.”

Struggling to keep my eyes open, much less focused on him, I squirm. “Why do you want me to say those words?”

His hand stops and disappears from my body. I want to scream no, but he adjusts so I can feel his steel against me, making me ache even more. “If you want me to take your virginity, I’m going to devour every last fucking ounce of it.” He slips his fingers into his mouth and drags them slowly out, savoring me like the most delectable dish he’s ever tasted.

He starts to sit up, but I grab at him to keep him here. “I want you.”

“You want me to what, Firefly. Tell me.”

“I want you to make love to me.” When he starts to turn, I add, “I want you to fuck me, Alexander. I want to feel your cock deep inside my pussy, so much that you’re still a part of me long after we’re done.”

A smirk slides into place. Leaning down and kissing me on the cheek and then my lips, he whispers, “Don’t you know, baby, we’ll never be done. You’re it for me.”

“You’re it for me. I love you.”

Slowly, he undresses me, my schoolgirl uniform replaced by raw, bare skin that radiates to life. Just like when I met him, he brought my soul to life. I’ve never been touched like this. He treats me like I’m the most beautiful treasure. He treats me like I’m his. And though I’ve said it before, now I know what it feels like to be his.

Our connection runs more than skin deep. He fucks my body and makes love to my soul. We lie in the aftermath of our love, my purity destroyed in a blissful annihilation.

“Promise me, Firefly, you’ll never leave me.”

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