Chapter 21 #2
“Why should they be any more violent than a human walking down the street?” As he pushed further inside, I took a deep breath. The ache was there, but so was the eagerness, the longing unlike anything I’d ever been able to imagine.
“True. Especially if they were trained.”
“Trained, huh?” He cracked his hand on my backside and I yelped. “You mean with discipline?”
“Yes. All wild wolves need discipline.” This was quickly turning into something different, but no less exciting.
“Maybe you’re right, my Lily flower. It’s something I’ll be certain to keep in my mind.
” He brought his hand down three more times before pulling out, driving into me again.
The force was perfect, the friction created keeping my skin tingling.
As he jutted his hips forward, developing an incredible rhythm, I was thrown onto my tiptoes.
There weren’t just stars floating in front of my eyes, there were tiny beasts. Furry beasts. Was I envisioning sexy shifters? I bit my lower lip as amusement rolled through me. No one could say I didn’t have an imagination.
Even if it was rather skewed.
Every time he smacked his hand against my bottom, my pussy clenched. I remained so wet, the desire increasing. I’d never been a girl interested in pain, but the thrill of being controlled and disciplined was pushing me close to ecstasy.
“Such a bad girl,” he whispered.
“I am.”
“I guess I’ll need to punish you on a regular basis.” He brought his palm down four more times before gripping my right butt cheek.
My pussy throbbed, matching my racing heart.
He pressed the full weight of his chest against me and my breath was ripped away. His scent covered every inch of my body and if I had to guess, I’d say there’d be no reprieve anytime soon, his natural exotic fragrance that strong.
And sensual.
And addictive.
While he was gentle as he nuzzled against my ear, I sensed his extreme hunger was rising, encouraging the savage to finish his feast. I was cracking myself up, my imagination creating an entire new species. Perhaps I should go light on the books I chose to read.
“Can you feel me?” he whispered in a throaty voice.
“Absolutely.”
He pulled out, leaving just the tip inside as he brushed one hand down my side ever so slowly. As soon as he pulled me away from the wall, he crawled his long fingers to my pussy. The hard thrust brought a squeal from my throat.
His laugh was positively evil as he swirled the tip of his finger around my sensitive clit. The rhythm began again, every plunge rougher than the one before. My body was jarred, the crackle of electricity adding to the powerful aphrodisiac.
This was pure sin, but I certainly wasn’t ashamed. Every woman should find themselves in the company of such a masterful lover.
The lightheadedness remained as he tormented me for several minutes, also using his thumb to dip it past my swollen folds. I was fearful my legs would give out. Maybe he sensed my anxiousness, somehow wrapping his massive body around mine.
As if he was being protective.
Possessive.
I closed my eyes, allowing myself to enjoy the moment. Exhaustion and extreme heat had taken over. I was a wrung-out mess, but he kept fucking me, every so often murmuring words I could admit I wasn’t paying any attention to.
That’s how good it felt to have him buried deep inside.
I rocked with him, taking short breaths as the pleasure sent me into another spiral. He nipped my ear the moment he sensed a climax was sweeping through me. I was shocked how powerful it was, the deep-seated vibrations just as incredible as before.
He slowed his actions as I tipped my head back, resting it on his shoulder. His cock seemed thicker, pulsing the way my pussy was vibrating.
The pleasure was insane, so much so I could no longer feel my legs. He chuckled in my ear, still stroking my clit.
“Oh. My. God.” I couldn’t believe I’d even managed the words. Panting, I licked beads of perspiration from my upper lip, fearful I was going to pass out.
Yes, from the excessive heat, but there was more. Was it possible someone could die from pleasure?
My butt ached, but I’d never felt so filled.
As amazing as the pleasure was, now all I wanted was a bed, preferably my bed and to sleep for at least forty-eight hours. Somehow, I doubted that was possible and certainly not around this voracious man.
His body tensed, one hand squeezing my fingers while he continued flicking his index finger across my clit.
I was on my toes because of the extreme sensitivity.
The sounds I was making weren’t human. They were almost as if some wounded animal had crawled into the bathroom. Even the echo was painful to hear.
Saint was growling in a perfect tone, like some singer perfecting the deep baritone of some Russian love song. The thought had me lolling my head, studying the water beading around our feet.
He was as thorough as he was on the ice and when he finally released deep inside, his cock refused to cooperate or behave. The thick shaft continued to pulse. I could swear it was also swelling. How was that even possible?
His soulful sounds turned into the same kind of guttural ones I’d expressed seconds before. He pulled out, immediately leaving me feeling empty.
I dropped my head, still panting as I clawed the shower wall. What was I trying to do, get out? Or stay locked in. With him.
The beast of the Wild Dogs.
With my eyes closed again, I wondered if I’d been completely wrong about Saint. Maybe he was a nice guy even if he was clueless how to handle social media, women, authority figures, his teammates. And me.
“You are… pretty damn incredible. Too bad you aren’t wearing your braid. Then I could brag about fucking a fussy librarian.” His laugh was as husky as his sexy voice had been.
And just like that, the man’s true personality hit the deck. Or maybe I should say the ice. He’d proven once again that women were nothing but playthings to him, toys to be placed on a shelf. Maybe a cutesy doll to kiss his ass when he needed reassurance.
Somehow, and completely against every concept of sanity, I’d fallen for his bullshit.
Again.
I had a screw missing and Saint Masters acted as if he was holding it hostage.
I don’t know why I allowed him to get to me. He hadn’t promised me a rose garden or anything else for that matter, including a relationship. Maybe I’d just hoped he wouldn’t treat me like one of his conquests.
Being wrong wasn’t new, but this time, both comprehending and accepting that fact was more painful than any other.
So I reacted.
Or maybe later I’d say I overreacted, but I just couldn’t help myself around the man.
He brought out the beast in me. A laugh curled on my lip as I turned around suddenly, slamming both palms against his chest.
Maybe I’d forgotten the only thing keeping us closed off from the cooler air outside the tub was a flimsy shower curtain. Oops. Too late now.
As if created from a movie set, the shower rings popped one by one from his body being pitched backward. Maybe I should be grateful the curtain wrapped itself around his body like a cocoon, the metal rings keeping him from slamming into the hard tile floor.
Or maybe I was pissed he’d had a soft landing. While he was still tumbling in the festive fabric of the outer curtain and the stiff clear plastic, I snatched the towel off the ring, wrapping it around my boobs before stepping over him.
“What the…” he snarked from under the material.
“That’s for you being an inconsiderate, rude, off the charts jerk. You can sleep on the floor.” For dramatic effect, I snapped off the light, grabbed the shirt, and stormed into the bedroom. For a bazillion reasons, my heart was doing gymnastics in my chest.
Partly because I was furious that he was such an ass and always would be.
Partly because I’d enjoyed myself with a man. Really enjoyed myself as in being swept off my feet by a huge he-man with a face of the angels and the body of a Greek god.
And also, partly because I was furious with myself for falling under his twisted spell. I didn’t care how gorgeous he was. He was still a jerk and would always be a jerk.
So much for the promise I’d made about trying to be nicer to him. Living with him? Not a snowball’s chance in hell. He was best served marrying a blowup doll.
I quickly got ready for bed. As I yanked down the covers, the stark images of him caught with his dick in a puffy pink fake hole brought a smile to my face.
Did that make me an evil woman?
So be it. I crawled under the covers, immediately turning off the light.
Then I threw the sheet and comforter over my head.
Maybe I could wake up after a decade had passed and Saint ‘The Savage’ Masters was no longer the hottest man on the planet.