Page 38 of Savage Sacrifice (The Savage Six #4)

I rake my eyes over him, noting the way his taut muscles bulge beneath the sleeves of his white t-shirt. The cords running down his arms only make me hotter for him.

“When you were reunited with Lincoln, did he worship you?” he asks, startling me.

My eyebrows gather in confusion, but when I consider the moment, I find myself nodding. By Lincoln’s standards, he was definitely caring.

“Good. And when Blaze fucked you at the farmhouse, did he worship you too?”

Another nod.

“As expected. And Tatum?”

“Do you know all of my antics?” I ask, cocking a brow at him, but he ignores my outburst, mirroring my facial expression as he waits for my response.

“Yes, he did,” I grumble, rolling my eyes at him, and it’s his turn to nod.

“That’s the thing, Silver. You’re our center, our queen. Made to be worshipped by all of your men, but when you’re tangled in a web of chaos, what do you have to focus on, to worship, to take away all of your thoughts except for that one… single… thing?”

His voice is raspy, making my thighs clench. How is it that I've gone from a virginal nobody at Florentine’s to a born-again non-witch who clears her mind with sex? Because that’s exactly where my mind has gone. His too, if his demeanor is anything to go by.

But not just any sex, the kind that takes my soul and melds it with another before gluing me back together again.

I’m a whore.

That’s what Lincoln called me, and I like it.

No.

I love it.

I love being brave enough to let my walls crumble around these men. My men.

I’ve never felt safer, happier, or more hopeful.

Hopeful.

A word I once would have never associated with myself, and now here I am, ready to explode with it. So consumed, all I can do is embrace it.

“I want to focus on you,” I breathe, lowering my gaze to the telling bulge behind his black jeans.

He takes four strides and he’s in front of me again, his fingertip tilting my head back to meet his gaze as desire courses through my veins. “Tell me you’re mine. No matter who we are or what we’re doing, you’re mine.”

Heat floods my cheeks, but there’s no embarrassment this time. Just need and acceptance.

“I’m yours,” I rasp, and he nods, taking a step back as he drops his hand from my face, and I miss the contact instantly.

“Strip for me,” he commands, taking another step back, and I gape at him for a moment. He can’t be serious. But he is, I can see it in his eyes. It’s not there alone, though; it’s combined with hunger. For me.

Tugging my hoodie over my head, I shake the material off before discarding it at my feet. I quickly kick my sneakers off too before I reach for the waistband of my sweatpants, but I hear my name like a prayer on his lips, and it makes me pause. When I meet his heated gaze, he whispers one word.

“Slower.”

I rake my teeth over my bottom lip as I do as he commands, and move slower. My pants slowly drag over my thighs before pooling at my feet, revealing the black lace panties beneath. I leave them in place as I reach for the hem of my t-shirt.

Watching him watch me steals my breath as his eyes track my every movement. Gradually exposing my stomach, before the swell of my lace-clad breasts comes into view, I take my top off to flash my matching black lace bra.

“These too?” I ask when I’m standing in just my underwear, my voice sultry, catching even me by surprise as he swipes his tongue over his lips, nodding instead of using actual words, and I love leaving him speechless.

I run my fingers over my chest, ghosting my collarbone as I tease the edge of the lace, running my fingertips between the valley of my breasts before I reach for the clasp. The lace slackens around me as I slowly let it drape down my arms to unveil my breasts, pebbled nipples and all.

“You want to take away all of my modesty?” I ask, letting the bra fall to the floor as I turn my attention to my panties, and he snickers.

“I want all of you,” he replies huskily, making my thighs clench together with desire.

I’m certain I’ve never moved slower as I slip my hands beneath the waistband of my panties, moving inch by slow inch to reveal my needy pussy to him. I don’t stop until the lace hits my knees, then pools at my feet, leaving me draped in nothing but my desire.

Cocking a brow at him, he reaches a hand over his head, grabbing a fist full of his t-shirt before tugging it off effortlessly. It shouldn’t be that hot. He kicks his shoes off, standing in nothing but his worn black jeans.

“Release me,” he commands, nodding toward the prize in question as his arms remain relaxed at his sides.

I take a single step toward him before my own craving fuels my next move, forcing me to my knees. His eyebrows rise to his hairline in surprise as I lean forward, hands splayed on the floor, and with my eyes fixed on his, I do what I know he loves, what he craves ; I crawl.

Without command or order, but because I want it. I want to be under his control, I want to see his desire. I said I wanted to clear my mind by focusing on him, worshipping him, and that’s what I intend to do.

I don’t stop until I’m right in front of him, forcing him to dip his head to keep his eyes on me.

Silently, I reach for the button on his jeans, leaning back on my heels as I work it free before the sound of his zipper echoes in the air to reveal another layer of fabric blocking me from what I really want: his cock.

Black boxer shorts are now at the top of my hate list, but I don’t let it stop the need coursing through my veins.

Moving closer, I brace my hands high up his thighs, my gaze locked on the outline of his cock beneath his boxer shorts before I press my nose against the fabric.

A sharp inhale comes from above as he practically vibrates beneath my touch. Spurred on, I run the tip of my nose against the bulge of his length as I slip my hands into the waistband of his jeans and let the material crumple at his feet.

He doesn’t move to kick the denim away, seemingly too distracted by the subtle attention I’m giving his dick, so I leave them there, bringing my hands back up to his thighs.

The second I feel the material of his boxer shorts, I slip my fingers beneath, traveling up his leg as I nuzzle against his cock.

A grunt is followed by a slew of curse words running from his tongue, filling me with a level of glee I’ve never felt before. Making sure to keep my face pressed against his bulge, I look up at him through my lashes.

The restraint is apparent. His body is wound tight as he gapes at me, shaking his head.

“Everyone here has been dancing to your needs in desperation because you’re back,” he states, and I blink at him. “I want to do that too,” he rasps, ghosting his fingers over my hair, and I sense the word in the air.

“But…”

His tongue peeks out again. “I want you to dance to me, I want your desperation for my cock.”

Damn.

The hunger in his eyes is… intoxicating.

Inching my hands higher up his thighs, still beneath his boxer shorts, I keep my gaze fixed on his as I swipe my tongue over his cock, material and all. The fabric softens beneath my touch as I lap at his length, desperate, raking my teeth over him before I lower my lips to lap at his balls.

His chest heaves with every swipe I take, and it only empowers me more.

When my hands meet the apex of his thighs, I dig my fingers in, clawing at him, and he snarls, all throaty and needy, and my hips flex, grinding for purchase, but I come up short. The move makes my chest bounce, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Asher, whose eyes widen as his pupils dilate.

“Look at your perky tits. Are you needy for me, Silver?” he growls, and I drench his boxer shorts more as I nip at him.

“Yes,” I breathe, and he shakes his head.

“I can’t hear you.”

Aware of the game he’s playing, I move my right hand two inches to the left to find his cock. His head falls back, a snarl tearing his lips as he rocks into the touch.

“I said yes,” I repeat, louder this time, before I grab his boxer shorts and tug them down.

His cock springs before my eyes, throbbing and needy. I should draw this out, make him wait, but I can’t. I need to taste him. I need to feel the weight of his cock on my tongue more than I need my next breath.

This time, when I swipe my lips over his length, there’s no barrier between us. Just hot, desperate flesh. Running my tongue from the base of his cock all the way to the tip, I barely flick a single lick at his needy head before I repeat the process, this time sparing a moment for his balls.

Another rumble of curse words echoes in the room as his hands find their way to my hair, but he doesn’t guide me, he just holds on for the ride.

Motivated, I repeat the swipe again, but this time, I swallow him whole, desperate to worship him the way he worships me.

He hits the back of my throat every time, making my eyes water, and I love it. I want tears to stain my cheeks as I make him mine. I want to gag around his length, I want my mouth to feel so full it will steal my last breath.

“Touch yourself, Silver. I want to watch you come from fucking me with your mouth,” he commands, and I hum around his length.

The second I press my finger against my clit, my eyes roll to the back of my head. Finally, I look up at him through hooded eyes as I sink two fingers into my core, humming again as his jaw falls slack.

I can’t imagine what I look like, but I’m too desperate to fall apart to care.

“Circle your fingers in that needy cunt of yours, Silver,” he rasps, and I do as he says, choking on his cock while riding my hand like my life depends on it.

“Imagine it’s my fingers inside of you, my cock.

Show me how sweetly you fall apart for me,” he goads, and I groan as tingles shoot down my spine at his words.

“That’s it. That’s my good fucking girl. Come. Come now.”

His order is a detonator, triggering the switch inside of me as I climax. My release drips down my fingers as I moan around his cock, eager for his taste, but before I have the luxury, he pulls out, wrapping his hand tighter in my hair as he tugs my head back.

Wild eyes meet mine, searching for a beat before he steps around me, dropping to his knees at my back. I’m still clinging to the ecstasy thrumming through my veins when he taps at my lips, and when I part them, he stuffs lace in my mouth.

I blink in surprise, quickly coming to realize it’s my panties, but there’s no time to consider it because he grabs my wrists, lifting them back over my head to gather them with one hand while the other lines his cock with my entrance.

He fills me in one swift motion, making me moan around the lace as he stretches me further.

There’s no time to adjust to him, I’m dripping and he’s feral as he fucks me with urgency.

Every thrust is firmer than the last, every slap of our skin connecting is louder than the one before, and every pound is faster as he steals my breath, taking everything that I am.

I’m a puppet, my back pressed to his front as he keeps my hands in position, unrelenting as he takes me again and again and again. His free hand runs down my chest, between the valley of my breasts, before dusting over my nipples, making my back arch as his thrusts become more intense.

The tremors of another orgasm swirl inside of me, and just as I teeter on the edge, he brings his lips to my ear. “Don’t ever leave me again, Silver.”

My climax takes me, drowning me in euphoria as his cock slams into me one final time, filling me with his release. I feel dizzy and lightheaded. We’re both drunk on sex, panting every breath as perspiration clings to me like a second skin.

He releases my hands, letting them fall to my sides as he slowly starts to massage my shoulders, calming the ache before it even arrives, with his cock still firmly lodged inside of me.

I’m certain we’re going to go again, the bliss-like feeling wrapping me in a warm embrace, when a knock sounds at the door, and the way Asher freezes, I already know it’s not good.