Page 36 of Savage Revenge (Savage Sins #1)

Jordyn

I CAN BE HIS GOOD GIRL

He’s so hard, and it’s rubbing so perfectly right where I need it. What is it about him that I can’t get enough of? A few hours ago, I wanted to slit his throat, and now I don’t want him to stop touching me.

Admitting to him that I love it when he takes control, though?

It’d be like giving an ace to an already loaded hand.

It could be something he uses against me in the future.

Something he probably will. And I think I want him to.

Because, apparently, I am as unhinged and fucked up in the head as he is.

“Do you want to be my good girl, baby?” he asks, lifting his hips slightly, so the ridge of his cock grinds against my sensitive clit.

His fingers grip my hips, not letting me move to seek out any friction. We stare at each other, only the sounds of nature surrounding us, and I can’t help but care for Cash. Fuck. What I feel is so much more than that.

“Yes,” I finally whisper. “But I’m still on my period.”

The air crackles around us. Nothing but us under the starry sky. He slides his hands up and down my thighs, sending a trail of goosebumps behind them.

“I don’t have to fuck you to worship you, baby. Just let Daddy make you feel good. Can you be a good girl for me and let me do that?”

Oh, God. All he has to do is keep talking like that and I might come.

I nod, my fingers trailing over his hard chest to the buttons of his shirt.

He might want to make me feel good, but I want to do the same.

If I don’t get to touch his bare, inked skin, I don’t know what will happen.

When he doesn’t stop me, I go to work while he grinds his hips against me and kneads my ass, moving me with him.

“You’re everything,” he murmurs, his gaze studying my face. “So fucking beautiful. Too good for this world.”

The words barely register. I’m too occupied with his sculpted pecs and abs, so solid and lickable. After he fucked my mouth earlier, all I could think about after he left was how badly I wanted him to do it again.

“Take my dick out, kitten.”

My hands tremble as I yank at his belt and undo his slacks. His cock jumps in my hand when I give it a slow stroke and lick my lips. I might have to be naughty more often if it gets him to fuck my mouth again.

“Such a good girl. Put your pussy over it and grind on me.”

I let out a whine as I stroke him again, and he gives my ass a sharp smack, shooting me a stern look that makes me quickly obey. No need to ruin the moment by being a brat. Besides, my butt is still tender from earlier.

He finds the edges of my swimsuit cover-up and pulls it over my head, leaving me in my skimpy bikini.

As soon as he drops it to the ground, he reaches up and lifts my top off my breasts, letting them bounce free.

Heat fills my cheeks as insecurity tries to creep its way through.

What if he thinks they’re too big? Too saggy.

I’m not tight and perky. I’m soft and jiggly.

“Fucking perfection. Christ. Your tits are what wet dreams are made of. Fuck, kitten.” He rises slightly and takes one of my nipples into his mouth, groaning as he sucks.

Little sparks of pleasure rush through me, shooting down to my core, over and over until I’m panting and crying out.

He continues to move from one breast to the other.

When his fingers slide into the crotch of my swimsuit and he presses my clit, I nearly levitate.

It’s his grip on one of my hips that keeps me in place so he can keep grinding against my ass.

“You’re going to make me come just like this, baby. With your thick ass and sweet pussy dry-humping me. That’s what you do to me, kitten. All you have to do is dry-fuck me to make me come.”

He circles and flicks my clit over and over, his eyes never leaving mine while we grind against each other.

My head falls back, my hair swishing around my shoulders and over my breasts.

Being on top is so foreign to me. I’ve never felt sexy enough to ride a man, but it’s different with Cash.

He looks at me like he’s trying to memorize every one of my dips and curves.

“Daddy,” I murmur breathlessly as the pressure in my core continues to build. “Please.”

“I know, baby. I’m going to make you feel better in a second. Just keep riding my dick like this. I’m tempted to rip out your tampon and bend you over this lounger so I can pound your pussy, but having your tits in my face is too damn good.”

A whimper escapes, and I arch into his hand, my entire body tingling as he runs the pad of his thumb over one of the hard peaks.

He holds the weight of it in his palm, molding it with care, yet still in complete control of us both.

Even when he’s being gentle, he carries the same rough edge he always does. Cash wouldn’t be Cash without it.

“I’ll never get over how fucking beautiful you look right now. You’re a goddess glowing under the moon with your pretty tits out and your thick thighs wrapped around me. Do you know what you do to me, kitten?”

I shake my head, clawing at his chest while our hips grind together as one, over and over again. Rolling my head side to side, I ride against his length, both of us getting louder and more desperate by the second.

Our eyes meet, and I study his face, his chest, his veiny forearms. He’s not handsome like Elliott. Or any of the other men I’ve dated in the past. Elliott looks like a cover model. Fun to look at, but not much depth beneath the surface.

Cash is different. He’s a statue carved from stone over the years, and during that time, some of the stone broke down and developed cracks or chips.

It’s more interesting to look at. You want to learn the story behind it, because that’s part of its beauty.

Art isn’t supposed to be perfect. It’s supposed to be messy. And that’s what makes it so beautiful.

Just like him.

His mouth connects with one of my nipples, and his fingers speed up, the pressure on my clit just how I need it.

“Oh fuck,” I moan as a rush of pleasure hits me, and I jerk my hips as my pussy starts to pulse. “Daddy! Oh, Daddy.”

“That’s it, baby. Grind against my cock and come for me.”

I bob my head, my eyes locked with his, as every nerve in my body explodes. Crying out, I dig my nails into his chest, but that only seems to spur him on faster. Pleasure shoots through me in waves, and I finally close my eyes and ride the euphoria, moaning and humming along with my climax.

“Fuck,” he groans when I go quiet. “I’m going to come all over those pretty tits.”

He grabs my hips and shifts me, then takes his cock in his hand and pumps, staring at me. Watching him draws a moan from me, and a second later, he grunts as the first shot of his hot come hits my chest, marking me over and over.

Both of us stop moving and stare at each other for a long, heated moment before he reaches up and runs his hand over my front, smearing his come in slow, deliberate motions.

No one has ever done anything this crude to me before, and holy hell, I think I might have another new kink. From the look in Cash’s steel eyes, he likes it, too.

“You’re beautiful,” he mutters before pulling me down for a long, slow kiss.

When we break away, he tugs me onto the lounger next to him and wraps an arm around me so we’re both staring up at the stars.

Neither of us says anything for a long time. After a while, my eyes start to feel heavy, and I give in to the feeling. Because I know he’ll take care of me if I fall asleep. That’s what Cash always does.

It’s nearly daylight when I open my eyes as I’m jostled slightly. Cash carries me bridal style into the house, then up to his room, where he places me gently on the bed and goes about tucking me under the blankets.

His scent comforts me, and every time I get a whiff, it’s like an automatic hit of anti-anxiety medication.

My mind quiets, and my body responds to his commands, both verbal and physical.

I know he’s going to take care of me; he won’t let anything happen to me under his watch.

There’s a lot I don’t know about Cash, but that, I do.

Maybe I need to stop fighting my feelings for him and actually do something about them. But asking is scary. Because there’s always the chance he doesn’t feel the same. Not in the same way that I do. Maybe I could start small. An olive branch of some sort.

“Hold me?” I ask when he rises to his full height at the edge of the bed.

He stares down at me, but the room is too dark for me to be able to read him. “Just need to go use the bathroom.” Then he leans down and kisses my forehead, sending a flutter of arousal straight to my core.

By the time he returns, I’m barely aware of him climbing in beside me. But when he slides his hand around my waist and pulls me into his chest, my heart beats harder, and every part of me responds in some kind of gravitating way. It feels good.

But most of all, it feels like I’ve finally found my home.

And his name is Cash Savage.