Chased (Savage Men 3)

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” he murmurs into my ear.

I nod.

I can feel him smile. “I’m a monster … remember? I don’t play nice.”

“I’m not asking you to,” I reply.

“Good. Because I’m not about to listen,” he says, his voice gruff and demanding as he takes my earlobe into his mouth and sucks. Then bites.

Hard enough for it to hurt, but soft enough for it not to break my skin.

“Think you can handle me?” he muses. “That you can taunt me like that and get away with it?”

I shake my head, but he pulls my hair harshly, forcing my head back and exposing my neck.

His lips make a trail down toward the base of my neck, where he plants a hot kiss filled with desire … and something else. A hunger for bad things.

He wraps his free arm around my waist and pulls me close while his tongue dips out to lick my skin.

My legs quake. I feel something between my thighs … excitement … something I haven’t felt in a very long time.

“I’m not gentle. I’m not nice,” he whispers, sinking his teeth into my skin.

I hiss but still don’t reply.

“You’ve pushed me too far now, Syrena,” he groans. “I’m going to take what belongs to me now. Inch by inch, your body will be mine.”

Suddenly, he releases me and pushes me toward the bed. I stumble into it, then touch my neck to feel a small trickle of blood flowing down.

He actually bit me.

“Surprised?” he muses.

I shake my head again. But I’m still trying to wrap my head around why he would do it.

He steps forward and pushes me down. “Sit.”

I do what he asks even though I probably don’t have a choice in the matter.

I already made my decision the moment he entered the house. This would happen sooner or later anyway. We both knew it. We were just avoiding it.

His thumb brushes along the mark where he just bit, swiping away the blood … only to dip it straight into his mouth. I can hear him suck.

So he likes it kinky?

“Delicious,” he murmurs.

Something metallic slides open. It pokes my skin. A blade?

He slowly slides it down my skin along the same line he kissed me, right around my collarbone. Not deep enough to hurt me … but sharp enough to let me know who’s in charge.

Then he pushes it down along the shirt, forcing the buttons to pop. Cutting the fabric in half at various points, he must be destroying the shirt completely.

I’m flabbergasted as he continues to the bottom, slicing it open.

With just the tip of the knife, he slides open the shirt, revealing my naked body.

I don’t even care that he can see me.

He already watched when I was under the shower, and my body is a commodity anyway.

With just a nudge, he manages to slip it off my shoulders, leaving me completely bare. Except for the fresh panties I found in the drawer that I’m currently wearing.

He pushes the knife underneath the fabric, barely avoiding my skin, and then cuts through it.

Even my panties don’t get a pass.

He rips them off and throws them away.

And I’m left utterly naked. Vulnerable. Weak.

It’s what he likes. What he craves.

I’ve learned that much.

“Take off my shirt,” he says, his voice dark and heavy.

I swallow away the lump in my throat and start at the bottom, unbuttoning each one carefully so I don’t anger him. As my hand goes up, I pass thick, rippling muscles, and they make my mouth water.

Fuck. I shouldn’t at all be liking what I feel. Not at all.

I continue until I get to the top, knowing he’s watching my every move. Hell, he’s probably checking out my body right this very moment, but I don’t even care. It’s not as if he hasn’t seen me before. This is all a play … a show of power.

He’s got me right where he wants me, and he’s loving it.

I can tell from the way he holds his breath as my hands push underneath the shirt and slide it off his shoulder. Then I sit back down again.

“Unzip me,” he says, still very much towering over me.

I do what he says, unbuttoning his pants and unzipping them until his boxer shorts are exposed … and the hard dick underneath.

When my hands leave his body, he grasps my wrist and stops me. “Boxers too,” he adds roughly.

I swallow again before curling my fingers under the elastic band and pulling them down along with his pants. I have to drag them over a considerable bulge, and it makes me suck in a breath the moment it pops. I don’t even have to see it to know it’s big.

“Wrap your hand around it,” he says.

He’s so direct. I’m not sure if I love it or if I hate it.