Chapter 5
Eleven twenty-five.
I check my watch again, though I know exactly what time it is. I've been watching the minutes tick by since dinner ended, since Cash finally retreated to his study, since I locked my bedroom door and changed.
Five minutes. That's all that's left before I need to be gone.
Marcus's voice still echoes in my head. His certainty. His casual ownership. The way he said, "We both know how this ends, Savannah," like my life was already written and I just hadn't accepted the final chapter yet.
Fuck him.
I smooth down the white summer dress—shorter than I'd normally wear around the ranch, thin enough to show shadows of what's underneath. It's not about looking pretty. It's about access. Legion's hands finding my skin as quickly as possible. The dress coming off easily.
It's always about sex with him. Especially now. We don't talk anymore—not really. Not since he left without saying goodbye. Not since I slapped him and he pushed me against the wall, both of us panting with rage that turned into something else entirely.
I don't care. I’ll take Legion Kane any way I can get him. I just need him inside me. Need to feel something that isn't this crushing weight of loss and expectations.
I open my bedroom door, listening for any movement in the house. Nothing. Cash sleeps like the dead after his nightly bourbon. Wyatt's probably passed out in some corner. The staff all retire to their quarters by ten.
But this is just habit. There's no sneaking required. Not anymore.
Marcus literally gave me permission to sneak out and fuck Legion.
Not that I need it.
The night air hits my skin as I step outside, still warm from the day's heat. I don't bother with the side entrance to the barn—I use the main doors, flipping on lights as I go. Cassia looks up from her stall, ears pricked forward.
"Hey girl," I murmur, grabbing her bridle. "Time for our midnight ride."
I don’t bother with a saddle, never do when I’m on my way to the silo. Just lead her over to the mounting platform and get on.
I guide her toward the back pasture, making no attempt to hide in the shadows. The moon is nearly full tonight, lighting up the grass, making it silver. I don’t jump her over the fence tonight. Just open the gate, walk her through to freedom, and kick it closed with my toe after we’re out.
Once we're on the grass, I give Cassia her freedom too. She breaks into a slow canter, knowing the way as well as I do by now. The path to the silo is worn into my memory, into her muscles. We've made this journey so many times.
Twenty minutes later, the old grain silo appears on the horizon, a dark cylinder against the star-filled sky. I slow Cassia to a walk as we approach, giving her time to cool down. No Legion yet. His bike isn't here.
I dismount, my dress riding up as I slide down, then leave Cassia to graze, her reins fastened into the chinstrap of her bridle. She won't wander far.
Then I pace around the silo entrance, checking my watch again and again as the seconds tick towards midnight.
My body responds to the distinctive growl of his bike cutting through the quiet night. Instantly, heat is pooling between my legs. I stand still, watching as his headlight bounces over the uneven ground, growing brighter as he approaches.
Legion kills the engine but leaves the headlight on, illuminating me in its beam.
I can see him clearly—leather cut over bare chest, jeans worn in all the right places, boots kicking up dust as he dismounts.
He walks toward me slowly, deliberately, eyes never leaving mine.
I don't move. Won't give him the satisfaction of seeing me eager, even though my heart is poundin’ so hard I can feel it in my throat.
When he reaches me, he doesn't speak. Doesn't smile. Just grabs my face with both hands and crashes his mouth against mine.
Everything ignites. My hands are in his hair, pulling him closer. His are already sliding up my thighs, finding the edge of my underwear. We stumble backward until my shoulders hit the metal wall of the silo.
"No talking," he growls against my mouth, as if I was about to start a conversation.
I bite his lower lip in response, hard enough to make him hiss. "Shut up and fuck me."
His hands are everywhere at once—ripping my underwear down my legs, shoving my dress up around my waist, squeezing my breasts through the thin fabric. I'm fumbling with his belt, desperate to feel him. The zipper gives way under my fingers and I push his jeans down just enough to free him.
His cock is already hard, hot and heavy in my hand. I stroke him roughly, watching his eyes darken.
"Get on your knees," he commands, voice low and dangerous.
I sink down in front of him, the cool grit of the ground biting into my bare knees. He reaches down, pulling on the hem of my dress. Yanking it over my head and tossing it aside.
I look up at him through my lashes, meeting his gaze.
His eyes are the same. Haven't changed since we were teenagers sneaking out past midnight.
Without breaking that connection, I take him in my mouth, welcoming his thick length between my lips.
My tongue traces the underside of his shaft, teasing the sensitive spot just below the head.
The weight of him fills my mouth completely—heavy with need, pulsing with a hunger that matches my own desperate craving.
I work him deeper, letting my lips stretch around his girth, savoring the way his breath catches when I swallow around him.
His fingers curl tighter into my hair. "That's it," he groans. "Show me how much you missed this cock."
The rawness in his words sends electricity down my spine, pooling between my thighs where I'm already soaked and aching. I take him deeper, proving with actions what we both already know—that I crave this lust like a drug.
The taste of him is intoxicating, familiar yet somehow new, like revisiting a favorite memory only to find it's even more powerful than you remembered.
I worship him with my mouth, communicating everything I can't say with words.
Moaning and taking him deeper, using my tongue the way I know drives him crazy.
His grip tightens painfully in my hair. "Enough," he says. Pushing me off him and hauling me to my feet. "My turn."
He spins me around, bending me forward until my hands brace against the silo wall. My ass is up, exposing me completely to the night air. I hear him drop to his knees behind me, and then his mouth is on me, his teeth biting into the flesh of my hips as he pushes a finger up against my asshole.
The unexpected pressure makes me gasp and arch my back.
He's never taken me there before, never even hinted at it during our countless rendezvous in this rusted metal sanctuary.
But I won't say no if he wants to tonight.
The thought of him claiming this final, forbidden territory sends a shiver of both fear and anticipation through my body. I can't say no to him—not for anything sexual. Every boundary I've ever established crumbles to dust when Legion touches me like this.
I want him to claim me in every way possible, to mark me as his in ways that will linger long after I've returned to my picture-perfect life at the ranch.
I cry out, shamelessly pushing back against his face when he begins to lick me. His hands grip my ass cheeks, holding me open as he devours me. His tongue circles my clit relentlessly before dipping inside me, tasting how wet I am for him.
"Legion," I gasp, already close to the edge. "Please—"
He pulls away abruptly, leaving me trembling and desperate. "Not yet."
Standing up, he positions himself behind me, the head of his cock teasing my entrance. I try to push back, to take him inside, but his hand on my hip holds me still.
"Beg for it," he demands.
"Fuck you," I spit back, though we both know I'll give in. I always do.
His palm connects with my ass in a sharp slap that makes me yelp. His command darker now. "I said, beg for it."
"Please," I whisper, my voice breaking with need as I swallow what's left of my pride. "Please fuck me, Legion. I need you inside me."
Before the words are even out of my mouth, he does. He slams his cock into my pussy with such force, my face is pushed against the silo.
Then he leans closer, his breath hot against my ear, his chest pressing against my back.
"More. Talk to me, Savannah. Tell me exactly what you want.
Every dirty thought that's been haunting you since I went away.
Every shameful fantasy you touched yourself to while I was locked in that cell.
Every filthy detail you've been saving for this moment right here. "
"I want you to fuck me so hard I can't walk straight tomorrow," I breathe, my voice shaking. "I want to feel you for days. Want bruises on my hips from your fingers. Want to be sore every time I sit down at breakfast with Cash and remember exactly how you wrecked me."
"This what you want?" he grunts, fingers digging into my hips hard enough to bruise. "This what you left your fancy house for? To get fucked by trailer trash?"
"Yes," I moan, pushing back to meet each thrust. "God, yes."
He reaches around, fingers finding my clit, circling it in time with his thrusts. "You like being my whore, don't you? Rich girl slumming it with a criminal."
The words should offend me, but they only make me hotter. This is what we are now—all the hurt and anger channeled into something physical, something we can control.
"I'm yours," I pant, feeling my orgasm building. "Only yours."
He slows suddenly, his thrusts becoming shallow, teasing. "Show me. Touch yourself."