SAVAGE: The Kingwood Duet

by Scott, S. L.

  SAVAGE

  The Kingwood Duet

  S.L. SCOTT

  S.L. SCOTT

  Copyright © 2017 by S.L. SCOTT

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design: Okay Creations

  Cover Image: Adobe Stock Images, Jacob Lund, Nuzza11

  Editing:

  Marion Archer, Making Manuscripts

  Karen Lawson, The Proof Is in the Reading

  Marla Esposito, Proofing Style

  Kristen Johnson, Proofreader

  Amy Bosica, Proofreader

  ISBN: 978-1-940071-52-7

  You’re the sky.

  I’m the Earth.

  Together we make our own universe.

  To My Forever and a Day

  Contents

  SAVAGE

  Prologue

  1. Alexander Kingwood IV

  2. Alexander

  3. Alexander

  4. Sara Jane Grayson

  5. Sara Jane

  6. Sara Jane

  7. Sara Jane

  8. Sara Jane

  9. Sara Jane

  10. Sara Jane

  11. Sara Jane

  12. Alexander

  13. Sara Jane

  14. Alexander

  15. Sara Jane

  16. Alexander

  17. Alexander

  18. Alexander

  19. Sara Jane

  20. Sara Jane

  21. Alexander

  22. Sara Jane

  23. Alexander

  24. Sara Jane

  25. Sara Jane

  26. Sara Jane

  27. Sara Jane

  SAVIOR

  I. Missing Grace PROLOGUE

  Chapter 1

  About the Author

  On a Personal Note

  Also by S.L. SCOTT

  SAVAGE

  Welcome to the mysterious world of the rich and the damned in this gritty, modern day fairy tale. Two star-crossed lovers will either find their destiny or meet their fate in a world where demons come in the form of familiar faces and pawns aren’t just players, but deadly.

  She was my destiny.

  I was her downfall.

  We were a match made in hell.

  But when we were together, that hell was pure heaven.

  The moment I laid eyes on her, I knew she would pay the price for my sins. I wasn’t much older than she was, but old enough to know better. Old enough to know she would be good for me and I was bad for her. But I pursued her anyway. Back then I had hope that maybe she could change my future.

  Maybe together we could change our fate . . .

  Prologue

  The sun shouldn’t be shining

  Considering the pain I’m feeling, it’s too bright.

  Too happy.

  Too blue.

  The periwinkle sky reminds me of the only blue I want to see. Brilliant blue eyes, not found in the heavens, but here on earth.

  The world dims momentarily. “Where’s your boyfriend?” the man asks.

  How did I end up here? Like this?

  I know. I just don’t want to admit the truth. Even now.

  Closing my eyes to block him out, I search my mind for the answer. “He’ll come for us,” I whisper.

  Us.

  A sharp slap to my face sends my head to the right. I’m too stubborn to scream, to give him any further satisfaction, even as the taste of copper coats my mouth. Curling to the side, I hold my stomach, attempting to protect the only thing that matters. I haven’t told Alexander. I haven’t had the chance. I was going to, but an unforeseen detour brought me here.

  Grief begins to envelop me, but I try to hold on, just a little longer. Reaching out, I touch the red pooled in front of me, wondering if that’s someone else’s blood. It can’t be mine. There’s too much to be mine. I’m alive, but now I’m wondering for how long.

  “Where’s King?” is shouted, but I’m too tired to answer. Even if I could, I don’t know where he is.

  He didn’t answer his phone. I allowed him to ride away, and the memory of his face causes my breath to stutter in my throat. As I cough, and blood splatters my present, I wish I could change the past. I wish I could go back to the beginning and relive our love from the start.

  I would do so many things differently. Despite how we ended, I wouldn’t change us. I wouldn’t change our love.

  His life is full of lies—the kind he tells and the ones he lives. Lies that have become mine and will haunt me as I learn to live without him. Those lies still haunt me as if they are mine to survive.

  He once told me he would give me the life I dreamed about—the ending I deserved—a happy ending—but with rocks cutting into my skin and a stranger kicking the life from me, I start to wonder if all hope is lost.

  Until I hear that familiar sound—the distinctive sound of a Harley’s exhaust foreshadowing my knight in leather armor.

  It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since I’ve seen him.

  It won’t matter what bad has happened between us.

  Our love will never die, even if I do.

  “I told you he’d come for us.”

  Knowing he’ll be here soon, I close my eyes, and dream of the fairy tale we once had . . .

  1

  Alexander Kingwood IV

  This is my favorite way to wake up.

  Often pretending to be asleep, I spy on her as she climbs out of bed, finding peace watching her day begin. Life is better with her around.

  Simpler.

  Happier.

  A kiss to my face. Location varies from the tip of my nose to forehead, the occasional closed eyelid before she sneaks out of bed, tiptoeing into the bathroom and then back out. I struggle to stay still this morning, needing her in ways that aren’t quiet. The night clogs my throat, my voice still gruff. “Come back to bed.”

  Standing at the dresser, digging through the top drawer where she keeps some of her things, Sara Jane looks back at me with a smile at play on her lips, simultaneously giving me a peek at some side tit. “I thought you were asleep.”

  I stretch my arms up and grab hold of the top of the headboard behind me. “I’m up.” Her back is smooth. The curve from her waist to her hips defined more with each year that passes. Her ass sits high and tight above her legs. Her body caught at the other end of transitioning from a girl’s into a woman’s. Giving her a solid once-over, she knows what’s on my mind. “Come back to bed,” I repeat the request without a plea. She’ll come. She always does for me.

  Sara Jane is not just good to me. She’s good for me. She’s kept me from burying myself or being buried more than a few times. My pretty firefly has seen me through my highs and lows and now stands by my side as the one constant in my life, the only person I can truly count on.

  Her lace panties slide down her thighs and she returns. She knows what I want. She wants it too, so I don’t have to put on a big production or sweet talk her back into bed. Settling on top of me, she slides down over my cock, ready for me, slick with desire. Slow and steady feels like a good idea this morning. I hold her hips, keeping my grip light as she fucks me.

  Her hands press to my chest and she leans down to kiss me. Before she has a chance to pull back, I grab her face, making sure our eyes meet, and I hold her gaze. “You know how much I love you, right?”

  Softness covers her expression as she smiles. “As much as I love you, Alexander.”

  Alexander. Hearing her say my name keeps me grounded to her and planted in reality. She’s
the only one who calls me that, the only one I allow to call me by my full name.

  When she sits up, she begins to rock, her head dropping back, her hair long, the tips running over my thighs. Her tits are amazing, full with weight to them. For someone so small, she was blessed in all the right places. My pretty little firefly has changed a lot since we first met. If possible, she has become even more stunning.

  The first time I saw her, I knew she would be mine. Nothing would keep me from her. Something wild and untamed stirred deep inside just from the sight of her.

  Cruise hadn’t understood. He’d been busy talking about some cheerleader he scored with the night before, but my mind had drifted, which had been standard anytime the chicks from school were brought up. I’d lost interest in the easies by tenth grade. But after what happened two weeks before, I’d struggled to find pleasure in anything. My taste buds had dulled, and life lacked color.

  Except for that damn blue polka-dot umbrella and the girl standing beneath it, who stole my world from under me. She was sunshine on a rainy day, a rainbow against gray clouds, hope in a Catholic school uniform. She was why poetry was written and art created. I could deny I became a fool for love the second I saw her, but it would be a lie. She made me want to be a better man, a better person in life. She made me think twice about the direction I was heading. But we both knew better. Our course was already set, our love a sweeping storm that would brew for years before raging.

  Her hair hung down, darker because it was wet, soaked as if the umbrella hadn’t protected her. Her eyes were wide with innocence as she ate a candy bar like it was the best treat she’d ever tasted. Her skirt . . . damn that short skirt. I saw the man in the car next to me staring at her and I wanted to beat the shit out of him for looking at her like she could be his next tasty treat. That fucking pervert was around my dad’s age. Fucking asshole. She couldn’t be more than seventeen.

  I was tempted to go over and cover her bare legs with my jacket. The girl was oblivious to the attention she attracted, and I almost felt I should become her protective knight in shining armor. I wanted to kick my own ass for that thought. So fucking lame. Until she looked my way. My throat went dry and my lips parted. The humid air wouldn’t save me. I was lost to this girl from that moment on.

  She looked away, and the sweetest of pinks colored her cheeks. Damn. Her purity shined like a beacon. I’ve never been one with a need to take a V-card to feed some locker room pride. Nah, I didn’t need to prove anything to anyone, least of all some jock-asses who bragged about every girl they bagged. But when she dared to look my way again, a deep-seated desire stirred. I wanted her.

  It was a carnal reaction I felt in my gut, but it had nothing to do with sex. Sure, sex crossed my mind, but its images were blurred like visions of déjà vu.

  With no justifiable reason, right there at a busy intersection in the suburbs north of downtown, I became determined to be everything she would ever need. I would risk it all just to talk to her. If she’d never been kissed, I’d kiss her so she never desired to kiss another man. If she was still innocent in other ways, I would earn her trust and not just make love to her, but create it, a bond so strong she’d never need anyone else. I would be her first and last love. That day as the rain came down, I made sweet Sara Jane Grayson my mission. With nothing left to lose, I vowed to steal her heart and own her soul.

  As I watch her moving on top of me, buried deep inside her, I hope I’ve changed her for the better. Three years ago, when our worlds collided, she changed me.

  She collapses on my chest and I hold her tight as our bodies relax after the intense release. Fingertips tap across the tattoo that honors her, the one she hates. To be fair, she doesn’t want me to have any, but she calls this one an ugly bug. There’s nothing ugly about the firefly. Just like her, its strength is illuminated in the darkest of times.

  Lifting up, she rests her chin on my chest, and asks, “What are you doing today?”

  In any other room, in any other house, with any other couple, this question would be so easy to answer. But it’s not in another place and we’re not just any other couple. We’re complicated and my life is twisted. I try hard to spare her from getting caught up in my tornado. My self-destructive ways have become worse, but I don’t mention most of that to her anymore. Instead, I respond like we are one of those other couples, where answers are easy, and life is simple. “I’m going into the office, and have a meeting with my father. I’ll pick you up on campus later.”

  Sitting up, she maneuvers away, but I’m quick and grab her wrist. When her sweet, soulful eyes—that melt me like butter—reach me, I add, “More.”

  “More?”

  “I love you more.”

  A smile slips into place and she pokes me in the chest. “You’re not so tough, Mr. Kingwood.” It’s a game she likes to play, to pretend that some of my bad isn’t as bad as her mind imagines.

  I play along because despite the light she brings into my world, I only bring darkness into hers. The smile she evokes from me comes naturally though. “Nah, I’m not so tough.”

  Leaning back down, she kisses my cheek and then gets up to shower. I watch that ass I’m so fond of until she disappears into the bathroom. My phone vibrates on the nightstand. It’s been going off for at least an hour. We both ignored it, but I can’t any longer. Reaching over, I grab it and glance at the messages.

  The sigh is automatic as soon as I see the text.

  Cruise: When are you coming in? Your dad is flipping out.

  Me: I’ll be in shortly.

  Cruise: Fucker.

  Me: You know it, Sucker.

  I toss the phone on the bed and head into the bathroom. I open the shower door and look in, eyeing her. “Perfect timing.”

  Sara Jane laughs and her hands go up. “Oh no, you stay back. I can’t be late again or I’ll be counted absent.”

  Taking the soap from her hands, I step in and run the bar over the silky skin of her breasts and down farther until the bar is dropped and my fingers are between her legs. “If that’s the worst that can happen . . .”

  “Damn you.”

  “You love it, baby. So much. Just like you love me.”

  Her eyelids dip closed when her shoulder blades hit the white tile wall. I lean over her and kiss her breath away when my mouth covers that little O her lips are forming. Hands press against my chest then slide up to grab hold of my shoulders, pulling me closer.

  Soap and sex covers her as I glide my tongue up until it’s discovering every curve and alcove of her mouth. I want to fuck her. Again. So fucking hard that she forgets she has classes altogether. She forgets the outside world. She forgets everything else, everything but me. Pressing my cock against her hip, I push as my fingers fuck her pussy. I’m trying to be good, trying to make it about her. Only about her, but she makes it damn hard when she grabs my cock with both hands and starts to get me off.

  “I want to fuck you.” My words are minced under the water’s spray as I lean my head against the wall and take the shell of her ear between my teeth.

  “God, Alexander.” Her body folds against mine, her orgasm close enough to feel her tightening around me. “Why do you do this to me?” Her question is loaded, and I’m not sure it only concerns our sexual deviancy.

  “It’s what you do to me. Turn around.” I take her by the ribs and spin her toward the wall. Her hands go against the wall in front of her and she parts for me. Such a good girl.

  My dick is big and she’s small, so I bend down until I feel her wet heat with my tip. I bite her shoulder lightly then thrust hard. Her cry echoes off the walls with her hands braced higher up. I take her hips and fuck, lost in her, lost in the sensations of her sweet little pussy.

  My fingers dig deeper as our bodies gyrate together, slicker by the second. I close my eyes and let the water rain down over me as movements become erratic, compromised by the slipperiness. Close. So close. I will never have enough of her, never satisfy the heavier urges my heart
craves. So I stake claims for her, but more for me. “You’re mine. You know that?”

  “I always have been.” Her words are strained and then sucked back in as she takes another deep breath.

  “Mine. Fucking mine. Always. Say it.”

  “Always yours, Alexander.”

  “King,” I demand, fucking her harder. She knows what I want. It’s something she only gives me when I’m at my best, in my opinion, worst in hers.

  She won’t say it. I know her too well to know she won’t play into that game. And I’m coming too fast. “Fuck,” I shout and pull out, my cum covering her lower back and dripping lower. Backing away to the corner, my breathing is harsh as I stare at my painting with pride. I shrug. “What can I say? You feel too good.” She rinses her body and steps out of the shower without a word.

  She’s pissed off.

  I won’t make apologies just yet. She felt too good to be sorry. Lazily, I clean up and shut the water off. I step out and grab a towel from the rack. “Come on. Don’t be mad.”

  “Easy for you to say. You came.”

  Her feistiness is a turn-on. If I didn’t just fuck her, I’d try again. This time I’d fuck that damn sexy mouth of hers. “I’ll make it up to you.”

  “I think you’ve done enough. Now I’m late for class and wound up.”

  I take the ends of the towel wrapped around her and tug her to me. “Don’t be mad.” I kiss her on the head, and then give her the smirk that will win her over, easing her irritation. “I’ll make it up to you tonight. I promise.”