Devil's Savior

CHAPTER 15

The moment the words leave my mouth, the air around us feels charged. The tension mounts with every breath we take and even though I’m surrounded by steam in the shower and warm water is caressing parts of my body, goosebumps pop up all over my body.

I can’t look away from him. And I don’t want to.

His fingers trail over my body, caressing me gently while barely touching me. It’s a tease that has me on edge almost immediately.

“Please,” I mewl, and a wicked grin grows slowly on Crosby’s face.

“You never have to beg me, Sioux,” he rumbles, “but I won’t lie and say that it doesn’t make me hard as a rock.”

I glance down and see that he’s telling the truth. His cock looks painfully hard, and I make a keening sound that comes from the back of my throat.

I remember how fucking good it felt to be filled by him. It’s been something that’s haunted me since the night we spent together.

I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t going to be more than the one time, but that was a lie. I knew it was a lie the whole time, even as I fought against the truth.

“You ruined me that night you know,” my confession falls from my lips and my man stills as he touches me.

“You ruined me too,” he fires back at me, a challenge in his eyes and acceptance in his touch.

I want to scoff and rebel against his words, but I can’t when he’s staring at me with truth shining in his eyes. Crosby gently moves us until he’s standing completely under the spray of the water, rinsing away any of the suds still left behind.

As rivulets of water meander down his body, I can’t look away. How can something so mundane be so damn sexy?

I barely notice when Crosby turns off the water and then sweeps me up into his arms. He strides straight out of the bathroom and toward the bed we’ve been sharing for the last few days, the bed I hope can become ours permanently.

It’s probably too early to bring it up now. Right?

When Crosby lays me down on the bed, not caring that I’m dripping wet, and starts to crawl over me like a predator, all thoughts other than him evaporate. He’s larger than life, his muscles bunching and pulling until he’s looming over me, and I have to clench my thighs together with the hope that it’ll relieve some of the pressure building inside of me.

It doesn’t.

“I promised myself that I wasn’t going to push you or take you until you were fully recovered,” doubt crosses his face with his words.

I can see the war he’s waging in his mind. He wants and needs me, but he also wants to put me first. My health. My safety. My wants and needs.

“Crosby,” I murmur while wrapping my limbs around his body, “I’m fine. I’m healed. You need me and the truth is,” I swallow hard and force myself to face the truth that has been burning inside of me since the moment I met this man, “I need you.”

He closes the distance between us slowly. If he’s giving me time to change my mind or tell him to stop, I don’t need it. I’m not going anywhere.

When he kisses me, I give myself over to him completely. I want him to feel my surrender, not just to him, but also to this connection between us. I don’t want to deny it anymore.

Our lips mold together, and it sends sparks of electricity through my body. When he nips at my bottom lip, I gasp, and he takes full advantage. The way he plunges his tongue into my mouth, full of hunger and desire has me grinding my hips against him seeking the friction my body is demanding.

As he braces himself over me, his other hand grips my hip and holds me firmly against the mattress. I make a sound of protest in the back of my throat which causes him to dig his fingers into my body harder. If he’s telling me that I’m at his mercy, then I’ll gladly accept it.

“Mine,” he growls against my lips as he pulls away.

I’m a panting mess as he trails open-mouthed kisses along my jaw and down my neck. He doesn’t worship my body with just his lips, it’s a full mouth assault with kissing, nipping, and licking.

“Oh fuck,” I moan as the stubble on his jaw rubs against my already sensitive skin. “Feels so good.”

Almost too good because I feel like I’m about to explode already and there is so much more fun to be had. But I keep those words inside. I don’t want him to stop; I never want him to stop.

As he shifts above me, he moves the arm he’s using to hold himself above me and his fingers dive into my hair. He holds me still and I realize I’ve been squirming underneath him. Being at his mercy sends a thrill through me.

He moves over my collarbone, nipping at my skin as he does, and continues until he sucks one of my nipples into his mouth. I arch my back as much as I can, but the way he’s holding me means that I have to just take the pleasure he’s giving me. I swear it seeps deeper into every cell, multiplying, and vibrating through me.

I moan his name, the sound coming from the depths of me, as he circles my nipple with the tip of his tongue before sucking it against the roof of his mouth. Every pull is like an electrical impulse that goes directly to my clit.

“Holy shit,” I groan, my mind spinning and my body shivering underneath him.

His mouth makes a popping sound as he releases my nipple and immediately gives the same attention to the other side. Because sharing is caring when it comes to nipple play.

“So fucking beautiful,” he mumbles around my hard nipple.

When he goes to slide farther down my body, my hands shoot out and my nails dig into his shoulders. I’m barely able to form coherent thoughts or words, but that doesn’t stop me from pleading with him, “Crosby. I need you inside of me, please. I can’t handle you tasting me. Not tonight, I need you too much.”

His dark eyes study my face, strands of my blonde hair sticking to my forehead and droplets of water glistening on my skin. Is it from the shower or the way he makes my entire body heat up?

Who fucking knows and who fucking cares?

Crosby’s jaw tenses and he grits out through his teeth, “You want my cock, Firefly?”

I make a strangled sound in the back of my throat and his mouth kicks up into a smile that has my heart pounding in my chest because of how damn beautiful it is.

“All I wanted all night was to come home to you and keep my promise. I was there to watch my brother’s back and because it was the right thing to do, but my heart was here. With you,” he confesses.

I fight against the fog in my mind, feeling the importance and the weight of his words press against my chest. Before I can grab ahold of reality fully, the head of his cock is gliding up and down my slit. I’m so wet that he slides against me easily.

“Fuck,” he grunts, “you’re pretty little pussy is drenched for me. Isn’t it?”

“Oh fucking hell, Crosby,” I moan.

I open my mouth to say more, to tell him to stop teasing me, to beg him to fuck me, to demand him give me everything. Before I can, he’s pushing inside of me, and my body opens for him. The walls of my pussy stretch around his large cock and the slight burn grounds me.

It feels just as good as it did the first time. It might be even better because I’m not denying anything between us anymore.

This is real and the connection between us fizzles and snaps, demanding the attention it is due. Crosby’s fingers tighten, my hair twisting in his fingers and the skin of my hip probably bruising in his grip. As he fills me completely, I’m strung too tight, and my release starts to build already.

I focus on the way Crosby’s jaw is clenched, like he’s holding himself back as well. I want him to lose control. I need it. He does too.

“I need you to fuck me hard, Crosby. I need you to show me,” I’m panting the words, “how much you need me.”

The moment the challenge leaves my lips, Crosby’s dark eyes turn predatory. It’s sexy as fuck. The growl he lets out would scare someone else, but not me.

My pussy clenches around his cock as he plunges inside of me and pulls out only to slam back home. As his hips start to move faster and harder, euphoria that I’ve only experienced once before overtakes my body.

It’s all because of him.

“Gonna need your sweet cunt to clamp down on my cock and milk my cum,” he grits out, his muscles tense under my palms while his eyes beg me to tip over the edge. “You feel too fucking good.”

I moan every time he’s filling me completely. Because it’s so fucking right that stars start to dance in front of my eyes and my body feels like it’s levitating.

“Don’t want it to end,” the confession spills from me as I try and stave off my orgasm.

“Oh my sweet Firefly,” there’s a primal quality in his voice that reverberates with forever, “there will never be an end to us. I’ll bury myself inside of you as many times as we need to be satisfied.”

Before I can even process his words, his mouth captures mine in a kiss that scorches my very soul.

Sealed with a kiss.

His hips move at a punishing pace and my body accepts every single movement like gospel on the wind. I get wetter and wetter until my thighs are slick with my arousal. When he tilts my hips a certain way, the head of his cock pummels my g-spot and I lose the ability to breathe.

But I don’t need air to survive.

I just need this. Him.

He gives me breath.

My heart beats for him.

Colors swirl around me, caressing my skin and remining me of a dream where jazz notes are dancing through the sky all around like a tapestry of cacophony that doesn’t make sense, but feels right. My body fights against my desire to hold off on coming because I want to stay here, right in this moment, for forever.

When Crosby lets go of my hip, reaches between us, and uses just the right amount of pressure to press down on my clit, I know who has won this battle.

It’s not me.

But it is at the same time.

Those colors sink into my skin only to be expelled in a giant bomb. They leap through the air and paint the world around us in glorious relief. My thighs shake and my muscles contract, holding Crosby closer to me.

Afraid to let go.

Afraid to do anything other than feel.

As I crest my pleasure high, a roar sounds somewhere in the distance, barely heard over the ringing in my ears. It gets closer and closer and white blankets my vision.

My eyes snap open and I watch as Crosby tilts his head back, his voice the roar I heard like a wave rolling, one you don’t realize is a tsunami until it’s upon you. The sound is primal and the pulse of his cock as he fills me with his cum only adds to the wildness of it all.

His eyes snap to mine, dark with so much more than the horrors he witnessed tonight.

I did that.

I made him forget, even if only for a moment.

I gave him something precious to hold in his heart instead of whatever he was forced to witness and fight against tonight.

Nothing seems real for a moment.

How did I get here? Where even am I? Who will I be when I wake up from this dream?

Then the feeling of his skin against mine rushes in and I know exactly where I belong. At his side.

Always at his side.

My chest is heaving as I suck in deep lungfuls of air. It’s like I can’t catch my breath, but I know it’s simply because everything feels different in this moment.

The smile Crosby gives me is sweet and caring, full of nurturing pride and adoration.

When he rolls us, he doesn’t pull out of me and the fullness of having his cock still inside of me along with his warm cum has my pussy clenching his length. He grunts in response as he positions me until I’m draped over his large frame comfortably. Well, at least until my hips start to burn because he might taper down to his hips, but the man is still wide and I’m out of practice when it comes to riding.

You can’t just jump back onto that saddle. It’s much better if you work up to it. And maybe stretch beforehand.

I chuckle against the hot skin of his chest, my eyes roaming over his tattoo that covers the entire ball of his shoulder and then travels down the length of his arm. I didn’t allow myself the luxury of studying it the first time we were together. That would have been far too intimate.

And my mind was already littered with memories of our time together, I didn’t want to add even more to the mix.

Not that it mattered in the end because I couldn’t forget a single thing about the man, and I certainly couldn’t keep him at arm’s length.

Crosby’s large hand runs up and down my spine, relaxing me while keeping me right on the edge of arousal. His chest vibrates under my cheek with his words, “What are you thinking about, Firefly?”

“Us,” I tell him honestly, “and how I could have fucked everything up because I was lying to myself about how I feel about you.”

Crosby makes a humming sound, his hand stilling for a moment as he listens to my words. “I wouldn’t have let that happen, Sioux. You have to believe that.”

I prop my chin on his chest and look up into his eyes. “I do,” I tell him honestly. “But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t have lost whatever this thing is between us.”

He arches an eyebrow, challenging me to give it a name because we both know what that is. My eyebrows are much more manicured than his, which makes my arch better. Everyone who is anyone would agree; I’m sure.

Crosby laughs and shakes his head in admonishment which is hard to take seriously when a small smile plays on his lips. “I’m going to let you off that hook. For now,” his words are ominous, but they don’t make me afraid.

No, they make me giddy instead.

I rest my head back on his chest and the beating of his heart lulls me into a state of blissful relaxation that I’ve been hard pressed to find since the day I was shot.

It’s strange to have such a definitive moment in your life that you can measure time against. There was the time before I was shot. And then there’s after.

I’m not sure I’ll ever completely be the person I was before. How could I when our experiences—traumatic ones as well as ones full of celebration—shape us into the people we become. We’re ever evolving as life moves forward and we continue to exist.

“Tell me what happened,” I prod him gently.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sioux,” he hedges.

But what he doesn’t do is outright refuse me, which is kind of what I expected him to do. I trace patterns on his skin, loving the way his body shudders underneath me.

“Really,” he doesn’t let up, “I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to know the details.”

I sit up abruptly and try to scramble off my man as anger surpasses my need to comfort him and listen to his problems. Before I’m even able to climb off his large body, his hands are holding me tight and he’s begging me to listen without words.

When I let out a huff of indignation, he barely stops himself from grinning. But, from the way he keeps looking away from me, I know it’s only a matter of time before he lets the whole story out. We stay like this, watching each other and waiting to see if the other is going to crack.

I know I’m not going to be the one who gives first. This has to be him, and I have a feeling that I might not like what he’s about to say, but that I need to hear it.

“It’s taken the Riding Rebels,” I tense when he mentions the name of the club that Anarchy used to lead before his untimely demise, and his jaw clenches while his eyes blaze with exactly why he didn’t want to share with me in the first place, “some time to get their shit together and put new leadership in place.”

“It’s taken this long?” I can’t help the question as my face twists up in confusion.

It’s been months. I can’t imagine the DSMC taking so long for the leadership to change over. Isn’t this why there’s a VP and other positions in the first place?

Crosby grunts and runs his fingers through my hair to sooth me. And damn it, it works like a charm. I relax back into his chest and allow the beating of his heart to punctuate his words.

“They’re fuck-ups, Firefly. Don’t forget that. After what,” he pauses and I know it’s because he’s reliving that moment the same way I do sometimes, “happened at the Poker Run, Lucifer has made sure to be aware of what they’re up to. For a long time, they just jostled over power, but we knew it wouldn’t last forever because of their ties to Martinez and his organization.”

I’ve heard of Juan Martinez, but I don’t know a lot about the crime that happens in the city. It’s not the best thing to do but ignoring it has worked out fine so far. I guess that’s not the case anymore.

“They finally have a new Prez and one of the first things they did is start to peddle Martinez’s shit drugs on the street again. Normally we wouldn’t get too involved in that because people have the right to fuck up their lives.” He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. “But when they start pushing their shit on kids it’s no longer something we can ignore. They started getting girls and women hooked on smack and then pimping them out at some house.”

I muse, “Like a brothel?”

He snorts out a laugh, the sound derisive, but it doesn’t feel like it’s directed at me. “A brothel was probably their goal, but the place was a shit hole that was barely standing upright anymore. It was not some upscale club for the rich and influential.”

I nod against his chest, my fingers playing along the lines of his tattoos on the edge of his shoulder. I stare at the graphic black and grey images, committing them to memory because I can this time.

“A few days ago, a fourteen-year-old girl was found dead from an overdose. Lucifer was able to tie her to the RRMC’s business,” he sneers the word, “through his intel.”

I squeeze my eyes closed, my heart breaking for the young life that probably had no real idea what she was getting involved in or how she was going to be used. If her life had taken a different path, would she have been one of my students?

“Hey,” Crosby coos soothingly, “I know, Firefly. I know.”

That is when I register that I’m crying. For her. For her family. For the life she could have lived.

“So you had to go in and put a stop to it,” my voice is shaky, just on the edge of sobbing as I look up, ignoring the expanse of my man’s chest, to meet his eyes.

“Yes, and I would do it again.”

“Good.” His eyes widen slightly in surprise, and I shift just enough to kiss the underside of his jaw. “If you think I’m going to judge you for ridding the world of evil, you’re wrong. You’re a good man, Crosby, and you have a good heart.”

He nods slowly and I watch as my words sink in and chase away some of the shadows which have been darkening his eyes since he walked through the door. They’re not eradicated completely, but that will take some time.

Time which I have to give.

He goes on to tell me about what he saw when he walked into the house and how many girls and young women were rescued. While I’m not a counselor, I’ve talked to my school’s counselor before to help me be better equipped to help my students and spot any potential problems that they might need more support with. I do know a little bit about some of the resources in the city and tell him everything I can.

“The woman you rescued,” my voice is soft, “she was really out of it, huh?”

His eyes get a faraway look, but his hands don’t stop touching me. “She was high, but she was also scared.” When he shakes his head, he comes back to me. “We’ll help everyone we can, whether it’s getting them into rehab or reuniting them with their families. Hacker is looking into everyone to help us with that.” He sighs, the sound slightly tortured as my eyelids start to feel heavier with every blink. “We got them out, which means they have a little bit of hope now, but that doesn’t mean the road before them will be easy to walk.”

I cling to him, part of me scared that he’s going to slip through my fingers. I try to push the thought away, but it persists, and my eyebrows scrunch together as my exhausted mind tries to make sense of the dread that washes over me.

As his hands caress me, his voice lulls me into a dreamless sleep, “Close your eyes, Firefly, you need your rest.”

I nod slowly, my heart filled with compassion while something gnaws at my gut. He was only doing what was right. Logically, I know that.

But why does it feel like this is just the beginning?