Page 54 of Scream (Duchess & Devils #1)

He looks down at my socked feet and grins again. He heads over to the closet that looks like it could be an arsenal. “This is the best part.” he opens it, and a bright light turns on, revealing trainers in different shades of pink.

For me.

I gasp, the back of my eyes sting. “Oh my god,” I murmur, holding back a sniff, walking up to join my bodyguard. But he’s more than that, isn’t he?

Parker grabs the nearest pair, loosens the laces, and sinks down to his knee in a lunge.

I lift my socked foot, placing it on his bent knee, and he slips the trainer on, tying the laces for me.

It’s nothing new– he’s done this for me so many times.

But now, now that I'm opening my eyes, now that I'm seeing him for what feels like the first time in ages, my heart thumps wildly for a brief moment. “Thank you,” I rasp, putting my foot back down on the hardwood when he’s done.

He looks up at me, the excitement in his eyes wavering, replaced with what feels like admiration. “Always,” he responds with a purr, doing the same to my other foot. He stands and grabs the bands from the wall. “Let’s stretch a bit, do some cardio, then we can fuck around with the weights.”

“This is how you’ll kill me, isn’t it?”

He laughs. “Trust me, Sabrina, the only thing I plan on murdering is your pretty pussy.”

The blush surges quickly, causing all of my pink parts to tingle and warm, heightening my awareness of him.

He shucks off his Henley, and I'm left with the delicious sight of the massive quantity of tattoos over his gloriously defined body.

Veins wrap around thick forearms and up bulging biceps.

His athletic shorts are slung low on his hips, every ridge of his abs on display, along with the dip of his hips, his Adonis belt protruding so deliciously, my mouth waters.

Adonis.

That’s what he is.

I swallow thickly, letting my eyes sweep over him.

When I haven’t replied to him in a while – because who can think when he looks like that?

He shoves the dark blond hair that came forward while he was tying my shoes back, and the motion causes his pecs to flex.

He stares back at me and raises a brow. “Ready?”

I dip my head. “Erm… yeah.”

“Music?”

“Low.”

He connects his phone to the stereo in the corner of the room, and rock music begins to pour out.

Asking Alexandria’s Antisocialist plays softly bouncing off the walls.

For the first time, the way it reverberates between my ears isn’t causing a headache.

It’s not clinging to my skin and making me break out in a nervous sweat.

I’d asked Damon about that once – why I could stand the music in my headphones but not the music around me.

He replied with, “You mentally prepare yourself for the blare. Your mind is already accepting there will be noise in your ears as soon as you spot the headphones. The noise outside is overstimulation because you don’t just hear it, you feel it.

The reverberating bass on your skin, around your head…

your entire body reacts to it the way it would react to a car driving by you a little too fast. It prepares itself for the worst.”

And that’s where my mantras began. Mentally preparing myself for overstimulation.

We stretch, and I’m so fucking hyperaware of the way he gets near me, not touching, only making sure my form is right.

I can feel the warmth of his hands hovering over my skin.

What would be a prickling sensation is nothing more than a sweet caress, and for once, I want to feel his strong hands on me.

I want to feel the raised calluses on his palms run over the smoothness of my skin again.

I want to know what it feels like to be utterly devoured and demolished by Savage.

My mind goes to the day I tasted my husband, and Savage gladly had me sit on his face, licking and sucking my clit into his mouth, moaning with every rock of my hips, those large, callused hands gripping onto the tops of my thighs to keep me seated, not hovering over him.

He lapped at me with such a ferocity, like he’d been starved, it took me no time to reach my peak.

I look up when I no longer feel his warmth and watch through the mirror as he brings me a pink adjustable jump rope.

I take it, and begin, following him, watching the way his muscles flex and jiggle just a tad, with each bounce.

The sweat that clings to his skin coupled with his cologne, makes my mouth water.

Fifteen minutes later, a bit breathless and sweaty, it feels like no time has passed at all when Parker stops jumping and smirks at me, as if he knows every dirty thought running through my mind right now.

He jerks his chin to the benches and tells me to grab dumbbells I’m comfortable with, while he puts back the ropes.

I do as I'm told, grabbing the fifteens and sitting down on the bench.

Through the mirror I catch his gaze on my ass. When he reaches down to pinch his dick, as if punishing himself for finding me attractive, I avert my eyes before he catches me watching him and knows I saw.

How long has he been doing that?

“Stand.” he orders, and I comply. “Knee on the bench and bend over, baby. You’re doing rows. I’m doing raises. We’ll switch after twelve reps on each side, yeah?”

I bend over, placing my hand and knee on the bench and pull the dumbbell toward my body, looking up in the mirror to see my form for only a second. This time our eyes clash in the reflection, until his sizable erection catches my eye.

“How long have you been pinching your dick around me?” I blurt out.

“Since the day your mother hired me to follow your bratty ass around,” he replies, pulling the dumbbells up.

I do my first set, then switch legs, reaching down for the dumbbell on the ground.

He drops his dumbbells, making me flinch.

I look up to see him standing behind me.

“Fucking hell, Sabrina, I can’t take it.

I gotta taste you.” Like the dumbbells, he drops to his knees, and soon I feel those large, rough hands ripping at the fabric of my shorts, the warmth of his breath against my ass.

“Wait! I need to shower!”

“Sabrina, you don’t know this about me, but I prefer a little salty with my sweet, and the last thing I want to taste when I'm eating this perfect little pussy of yours is fucking soap .” He grabs my thong and pulls it to the side.

“Drop the fucking weights, baby, leg down, like you’re gonna straddle the bench.

Good fucking girl. Forearms on the bench.

” He doesn’t hesitate. Savage flattens his tongue and drags it from my clit to my entrance as I drop down to my forearms. I cry out at the warm, wet sensation of his tongue swiping, and the masculine moans that escape him.

He smacks my ass roughly and pulls away only to say, “If I ever don’t want to lick this pussy clean, I’m no longer a man. Take my gun and shoot me, baby. Best fucking pussy I’ve ever had.”

“Oh, fuck! Savage!” I gasp when he dives back in, devouring me.

I can feel the wickedness in his smile pressed against my pussy.