by Cherrie Lynn
“Still?” he asked, as she felt him guide himself to her entrance, wide and thick, parting her folds and rubbing between them. When he was positioned, he moved his hands to her ass cheeks, fingers digging in.
“Still,” she confirmed, wiggling back against him though he held her firm. She wanted him inside so badly right then she would have suffered anything to have it, but just as she thought he might give her what she needed, he pulled back with a groan.
“You’re going to feel so fucking good, Savannah,” he rasped.
“Then take it,” she pleaded. The request, in the sweetest voice she could muster, was all the encouragement he needed. One more slow caress and he was there at her entrance again, his push firm to slip past her initial resistance. There was little. She was still so wet from her climax and his mouth there was no keeping him out. But oh, he was big. She gasped and he paused, giving her time, but she didn’t need much. She craved more. All. Above her, he shuddered with restraint, and her breathy words tumbled out on top of one another.
“More,” she begged, trying to maneuver her legs wider, “more more more—”
All at once, his hands scooped under her body and lifted her so that she sat on his bent legs, in a prime position for his hand to trail down and lazily work her clit as she slid inch by agonizing inch down his cock. She didn’t know how she felt to him, but he was perfection for her. Her eyes rolled back in her head; her head fell back on his shoulder. His other arm crossed her body, his hand going to her opposite breast, beading the nipple between his deft fingers, working all of her hot spots at once. “Oh, fuck, Michael.” Her head rolled toward him and he was able to catch his name on her lips with a kiss.
“I stand corrected again,” he murmured, thrusting up into her, thrusting the very breath from her lungs. It was everything. Everything she’d been looking for. “So goddamn perfect, Savannah. So perfect.”
She whimpered an incoherent reply as their bodies met again and again, as he reached depths in her no one had been able to discover, body and soul. Matching his rhythm to the swirling goodness of those maddening, strumming fingertips on her clit, and she thought she might lose her damn mind in this man. Sweat trickled between their bodies and slicked their movements against each other; she felt a drop run over her hip, felt wetness trickle from where he invaded her body. Her thighs shook with effort and exertion. She lifted both arms to grasp his head from behind, arching her body so that he hit new places inside her, worked them, made them his. She should have known fucking him would be a full-body workout.
And she wasn’t long for this world of sinful pleasures; her climax built from deep in her belly, sharpening, tightening. His rapid breathing turned into breathy groans and he pushed her over, pumping from behind as she struggled to hold herself up on her arms but gave up when her muscles collapsed. “Need to see you,” he growled, pulling from her with a jerk that made her entire body spasm, then she found herself flipped over as easily as if she were a doll. Legs over his shoulders, manhandled into position by him because she lacked the strength to move. She took him easily now, and so, so deep, so greedy for him, her body weeping for release and she couldn’t fucking think anymore. But she saw him, saw how he stared hard into her eyes as his thrusting cock pushed her over the edge and she fell at last, calling his name like a prayer.
Chapter Eleven
Mike tried to gather his fractured senses enough to check on Savannah’s well-being, but he couldn’t quite form a coherent thought yet. He’d just come so hard he feared he might have blown out the fucking condom, but gently pulling from her body showed it to still be intact.
He needed to take care of that, but damn if he was going to leave her right now. Cradling her head in his palm, he kissed her lightly, stroked her skin wherever he touched, trying to soothe her. She trembled so violently underneath him. Her cheeks were wet. It made him want to fucking break something. “Savannah. Are you okay?”
“I’m okay,” she whimpered, snuggling to him. He dropped to her side and wrapped her tight in his arms, still trying to get control of his own emotions. For some reason, he had the urge to apologize to her, but damn if he was sorry this had happened, and he hoped she wasn’t either.
He settled for, “Are you sure?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. Her breath was hot and quick against his skin. Her pulse still raged; he could feel it practically shaking her body. “I think so.”
He dropped his nose to her fragrant hair and inhaled deeply. Nothing had ever felt as delicious as every inch of her against him. She slid her leg over both of his and he caressed it, delighting in the smooth softness of her skin. With one final, deep breath, her body began to relax at last, and then the sexiest, throatiest chuckle he’d ever heard sounded, making him contemplate doing it all again.
“I’m waiting for everything to come back online. Like when the power comes back on after a lightning storm.”
Laughing, he pushed some wayward strands of hair from her eyes. “Can I do anything to help?” He nipped her earlobe and she gave a little squeak.
Her face turned into his chest and her arms tightened around him. “Just keep holding me.”
Too sweet. Too sweet for him. “With pleasure.”
She was silent and still for several minutes, and he wondered if she was beginning to doze. He might have himself. But then she said, “It’s going to be so hard to wake up early in the morning.”
“Shh. Don’t think about the morning. Just be here.”
“Okay.” She sighed contentedly. “Here’s good. I like here.”
And he liked her here a little too much for her own good. He liked this. Relationships had never come easy for him; he was like a bull in a china shop trying to navigate the emotional complexities. He’d grown up watching his mother attach herself to one deadbeat drug addict after another, and even then his impressionable mind had known it wasn’t supposed to be like that. There had to be something more, something better. His first few relationships—if he could call them that—hadn’t given him much hope. If he could have a woman like this to hold every night, though . . .
Being with Savannah felt as natural as breathing.
Once she was calm, he slipped out of bed to take care of the condom and came back to her, her lips immediately seeking his upon his return, soft and a little shy. How she could feel shy after that explosion, he didn’t know. He cradled her head, stroked her cheek, and kissed her until she arched her hips invitingly. Renewed lust surged through him, hardening him again for her, but he took the time he’d been too crazed to allow himself earlier. Finding her nipples tight and peaked, he teased them with light caresses until she whimpered deep in her throat. He could almost taste those succulent little buds in his mouth, feel them against his tongue, but he was too busy tasting and feeling her lips, her sweetness, her tongue in his mouth. He wanted all of her, all at once. And she was so eager to give it to him.
“Still haven’t won this damn game,” he murmured, savoring the laugh that burst from her, the beautiful smile that crinkled her eyes. Her lips, naturally red from his kisses, were irresistible. He enjoyed them for another moment or two with his own before beginning a journey down her long, lithe body, leaving no inch of her untouched on his way down. “Let’s see,” he said, pulling her right leg out from where it was tangled in the comforter and holding it out straight for his thorough inspection.
Laughing, Savannah covered her face with both hands while he ran his hand over her skin, following with his lips, all the way to her foot. “Help me out here. Am I hot or cold?”
Her hands fell away to reveal an impish glint in her eyes. “Not telling.”
“Come on.”
“Nope.”
“You’re no fair.” Convinced there was no little pink heart nestled anywhere from the top of her thigh to the bottom of her dainty foot with its pretty pink toenails, he put her leg down and crawled over to give the other the same treatment.
She helped him this time, lifting h
er left leg and putting her foot on his shoulder. Watching him with a little smile clinging to her lips as he stroked, kissed, stared. Nothing on her ankle. Nothing on her foot itself, or her smooth calf . . . front or back. Nothing on her thigh. He couldn’t get a good look at the back, but he thought he would have seen it when he had her on her stomach before.
“Hmm,” he said, replacing her leg on the bed. “I’m stumped.”
“Don’t give up yet,” she said, pouting adorably.
“All right. Turn over.”
Damn, how he enjoyed watching her do that, the graceful move, the strong lines of her back, the beautiful curve of her ass. The flip of her hair as she moved it out of his way. He let his hands discover every square inch of her, sliding over soft skin, kissing the dimples above the first rise of her cheeks, letting his fingers lightly skim the sweet recess between. She made a breathless sound, enjoying his exploration, but the only heart he saw was the one low on her back.
“Are you sure there’s one more?” he asked.
Savannah giggled, low and lusty. “Promise.”
His eyes moved over her arms, her wrists. He picked up first one and then the other. Nothing on the inside of either wrist, nothing on her soft inner forearms. “Damnit, Savannah. I give up. It must be somewhere no one would ever see.” Surely not on the inside of her lip or—
“No, you can see it. If I want you to.”
What the hell. It must be on her scalp. And as much as he would like to spend the rest of the night with his fingers in that lustrous hair, there were more pressing matters to attend to. Like how hard he was after touching her for so long. Oh, she knew what she was doing when she invented her little game.
“Fuck it. I’ll find it later,” he said, rolling her over to her back and pulling her thigh up on his hip as she gasped, watching her eyes half close in pleasure as he teased her clit with slow strokes of the underside of his cock. Damn, she was wet. And warm. He wanted her so fucking bad it terrified him, so bad it hurt. It would be better for her if she didn’t realize how much she affected him, if she could get on her plane and go back to New Orleans and forget all about this.
He didn’t want her to. And he damn sure didn’t want to forget.
Mike took a minute to slip another condom on, then returned to the welcoming circle of her arms and eased gently inside her, careful to monitor any wince, flinch, or whimper. But everything about her seemed ready to accept him regardless of their earlier exuberance. She was soft, and sweet, and so beautiful he ached to look at her. So he kissed her instead, their bodies without a breath of air between them, combined and moving in perfect rhythm with each other. She fit him perfectly. Devastatingly.
Minutes or years passed; he lost himself in her. Maybe he was finding himself too. When she came, giving a rolling, leisurely undulation of her hips, he drank her cries while her inner muscles pulsed erratically around him, driving him nuts, taking him down with her. He dropped his head to her shoulder and cursed as she seemed to draw the release from somewhere deep in his soul, her fingernails biting the muscles in his back.
It was a long time before either of them could speak, combined, naked, sweaty, tangled in the sheets. He never wanted to be anywhere else.
Even after all the times Savannah’s soul had been stripped bare for him tonight, his arms were like a safe haven where nothing bad could see or touch her if she didn’t want it to. She lay facing him, practically floating, while he gently traced her arm with his fingertips. Somehow the way he was looking at her was more intimate than anything they had done together tonight.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked him after a moment, smiling a little as she anticipated his answer.
Instead, though, he asked a question in return. “How are you, Savannah?”
Her smile slipped, brows drawing together. “I’m good.”
“No,” he said softly, moving his hand from her arm to stroke her cheek. She knew from the emphasis he put on the words exactly what he meant. “How are you?”
And she almost could hate him right then, because tears filled her eyes before she even realized what was happening. She wiped at them furiously, horror-struck.
“Baby,” he groaned, pulling her tighter against him and holding her so close his hand fisted in her hair. “It’s okay. You cry if you need to.”
“Why do you have to be so wonderful?” she wailed, and hated herself even more for how pathetic she sounded. “And don’t you dare say you’re not,” she added before he could open his mouth.
“Do you want me to stop?” he teased. “Try being a dick?”
“No.” She somehow managed to chuckle and sniffle at the same time. “But I do want you to be real.”
“This is . . . real as it gets, darlin’.”
“You’re nothing like I expected you to be. I only saw how you were with your opponents . . . with Tommy.”
“It’s a part I play. Not that I don’t get in there to win. I do. I get in there knowing the other guy is the enemy and he’s trying to take what’s mine. Intimidation tactics are all a part of it.”
“I know. It’s hard to reconcile what I saw before with what I know about you now.”
“Don’t get it in your head I’m some kind of saint, Savannah,” he said darkly. “I’m not.”
“Who is? I’m not.”
“You? You’re an angel. You still haven’t answered my question, though. Are you okay? Holding up?”
Glad the waterworks seemed to be drying up somewhat, she drew back a bit, feeling brave enough to look at him again. For now. “I’d do anything to bring him back. I miss him so much.”
“I know you must.”
“It’s not only how I miss him—it’s so fucking unfair. He deserves to be here to see his child come into this world. I don’t understand why bad people seem to thrive and good people are taken from us. It makes me furious.”
“God, sweetheart, you’re preaching to the choir. But trust me, I come from a world where the bad people get their due. I’ve seen it.”
Something about the way he said that chilled her, knowing how he felt about himself. But once her floodgates had opened, she couldn’t seem to shut them. “And tonight . . . that guy in the elevator, and then Jenna . . .”
A line appeared between his dark eyebrows, a scowl that almost made her regret saying anything. “What did Jenna say?”
“Nothing bad, just more of the same, like your fan at the hotel. She didn’t know who she was talking to.”
“Fuck,” he muttered. “It would’ve been better if I’d introduced you and said who you were from the start.”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”
He was silent for a moment, contemplative, and she wondered if she’d hurt him with those words. It hadn’t been her intention, only her truth. “Tommy really respected you, you know,” she told him. “For all the crap you guys flung at each other before the fight, he thought holding his own with you in the cage would be the highest honor.”
“I didn’t know him,” he said, “but he seemed like a solid guy.”
Savannah shrugged. “He had his bad points like everyone. We fought like crazy a lot of the time growing up; I practically hated him sometimes. But once we were older, we got really close. I think it was Rowan who helped that happen, actually. She became like the sister I never had.”
“I get that vibe from you two.”
“Tommy was my parents’ favorite, though, no two ways about it.”
“Oh, come on.”
“I think you’re the first person to ask me how I’m doing in weeks. At least the first person who really seemed interested in the answer. Everyone around me has their own pain to deal with right now, and I feel like I would be overburdening them if I told them about mine. But I guess you have yours too, though, right? Am I being entirely selfish?”
He watched her, listening intently. No one had ever listened to her the way he did. Like every word was a treasure to be examined and
considered. She hoped for some perfect wisdom from him, something, anything, that would make it all okay. “What’s wrong with being selfish? If we don’t look out for ourselves, who the hell will? But you, Savannah—no, you’re definitely not.”
Thinking about what he’d shared tonight, about the things he’d done for his brothers, she felt awful and childish on top of selfish, because what the hell did she really know about suffering? He probably wanted to call her a spoiled brat but was too nice to do it. “And for what it’s worth,” he went on, “you’ll always have me if you need me.”
Incredibly, that meant more to her at the moment than anything her family, her friends, or Rowan could ever have said. She smiled and kissed him. “That’s worth more than you’ll ever know.”
Chapter Twelve
Finally, her eyes drifted closed. She opened them again to daybreak and a soft breeze caressing her cheeks. Lifting her head, she saw for the first time that Mike’s bedroom had its own deck, where airy white curtains billowed around the open patio door. He stood out there now, leaning on the railing, wearing a gray T-shirt and long black shorts, framed by a cloud-choked sunrise.
Savannah rolled onto her back pushed both hands back against the headboard and indulged in a long, luxurious stretch to work out the aches in her muscles. She doubted very much, however, that there was much to be done for the ache between her thighs.
He must have heard the little groan she uttered with the effort of her stretch, because he turned and walked back in, smiling at her. “Morning. I was just about to wake you. Figured you needed to get back to your hotel.”
“Do I have to?” she joked, rolling over to her stomach.
“No,” he said solemnly, dropping to one knee beside the bed and brushing a dark tendril of hair from her eyes. “Not if I have anything to do with it.”
“I wish I could,” she said, and meant it. It would be wonderful to spend the day getting to know him, seeing his routines, learning his habits.
