Ruthless Savior

I relished our time in the spa afterwards. We’d soak in the hot tub, and I’d rub the soreness from his bulging, mouthwatering muscles. Soothing him was the least I could do to reciprocate the care he showed for my wellbeing.

And I liked touching him. Skin-to-skin contact relaxed my entire being like a sedative.

Since the night I’d awakened from the grips of the dark dream about my mother’s murder, I hadn’t suffered a single nightmare. Raúl’s strong arms protected me, even in sleep.

A happy sigh blew from my lips when we reached the door to his workshop. “You’re finally going to reveal the secrets of your man cave?” I teased.

He paused, and the slightly cruel tilt to his smile taunted me. His low hum rolled through my body, hitting my core as an intense, stimulating vibration.

His cocky smirk twisted. He knew exactly what he was doing to me, drawing out my anticipation and pulling me deeper into his thrall.

“Maybe lost little lambs don’t belong in my man cave. If you don’t want to see it, we can go back into the house.”

“No, no,” I insisted breathlessly, my hand tightening around his. “I want to see. Please?”

His smile softened, and he tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear before opening the door and ushering me inside.

When we stepped over the threshold, my jaw dropped. I’d never seen this kind of heavy-duty machinery, but the massive sledgehammers and jagged scraps of metal indicated what he used the space for.

“Metalworking?” I recalled the rigid, iron furniture that added to the austere aesthetic of his home—from the glass-topped tables in his whiskey and cigar room to his imposing king-size bed.

My delighted giggle bubbled into the cavernous space. Suddenly, Raúl’s fist sank into my hair, and he pulled my body into his steely grip, trapping me so my chest pressed tightly to his.

“Is something funny, corderita?” Despite his warning growl, light danced in his verdant green eyes.

My palm rested on his cheek, and my fingers slid into his thick black hair. I loved the way the close-cropped style didn’t quite tame the hint of his curls, softening his stony appearance ever so slightly.

“It’s just so…you.” A fond smile played around my mouth. My free hand curved over his corded arm, unable to span even half its impressive girth. “You’ve chosen a pastime that must require enormous strength. You’re always so much calmer after you come out of your workshop. Pushing your endurance levels to create something useful is exactly the sort of thing I’d expect you to enjoy.”

His granite features softened to an awestruck expression that flooded my entire being with sunlight. He tenderly traced the line of my jaw before tipping my head back for his kiss.

The only response he offered for my interpretation of his hobby was one of his signature, rumbling grunts. I understood that he didn’t have the words to express his feelings. His taciturnity didn’t mean that he was unaffected by my insight into the deepest, most beautiful parts of his soul. He showed me how much I meant to him with reverent strokes of his tongue against mine, gentle at first, then turning rougher as hunger overtook us both.

Never releasing my mouth, he stepped toward me, forcing me to move where he directed. My ass bumped into something hard, but he didn’t stop his advance.

He kept my lips locked beneath his, anchoring me in place with his fist in my hair. He pulled on the thick waves, forcing me to arch into him. His chest pressed down on mine, until my back settled on a hard, cool surface.

My shoulders and upper back were exposed, my skin left mostly bare by the summery design of my lavender sundress. The rough scratch of unpolished wood against my flesh told me that Raúl had laid me out over his worktable.

It felt more like an altar, and I was the sacrifice to this dark, hungry god. He utterly consumed me, his tongue claiming my mouth in deep, demanding strokes.

One big hand captured both my wrists and pinned them to the wood above my head, stretching my helpless body beneath him. I was his tribute, his plaything to toy with for his own cruel amusement.

His muscular thigh wedged between my legs, and his fingers sank into my hip, jerking my ass to the edge of the table. My sex was forced tight to his thigh, stimulating my most vulnerable area with dark pleasure. He leaned into me, forcing his thigh deeper between my legs.

When he rubbed ruthlessly over my pulsing clit, I arched against him and whimpered into his mouth. His low hum held the wicked edge of a savage chuckle. The sound of his arrogant satisfaction in the power he held over me made my core pulse in time with my heartbeat. Wet heat soaked my panties, and his rough jeans grew damp with my arousal.