“Charlie,” she breathed out and leaned back so her hands were on my knees as she fucked my cock, hard and fast so her tits bounced hypnotically in front of me. “Oh, fuck, yes, Charlie!”
She needed this as much as I did, and that was such a fucking turn on. I gripped her hips, hard, and slid her even faster up and down the length of my cock, enjoying the wild cries and screams of pleasure that spilled out of her mouth. She moved too fast, too wild, for me to get another taste of her tits and then, as if she could read my thoughts, Savannah sat up and wrapped her arms around me. The move was intimate, almost as intense as her blue eyes searing into mine as she ground on my cock.
Her hips circled and bounced; she screamed out when my teeth scraped her nipple.
“Oh, fuck!” she said in the throes of ecstasy. Her movements sped up, and I held her hips tighter, helping her move in quick, deep strokes that sent her over the edge, hard and fast.
“Charlie, yes! Oh fuck, yes! Yes!” Her body relaxed, and she gripped my face, kissing me hard and deep, her tongue plunging into my mouth hungrily.
My hands never left her hips, moving her up and down my cock as my own orgasm flooded to the surface. My hips bucked up and my cock surged deep enough to pull another orgasm out of her, a violent burst of pleasure that milked my cock dry. I collapsed against the uncomfortable kitchen chair and groaned. “Holy shit, Vannah.”
She pulled back with a satisfied smile. “Holy shit, Charlie.”
That smile was more than I could take and I stood with Savannah in my arms, my cock still buried in her clenching pussy, and took her upstairs where I could fuck her again, slower and deeper. I laid her out and tasted every inch of her. She begged and pleaded for more. I squeezed her tits while I fucked her mouth, pulled her hair while I fucked her from behind. After her fifth orgasm, the result squirting out of her, she passed out in my arms.
I lay there staring up at the ceiling. I was in more trouble than I realized. Cross was right. No matter what I said or how tried to convince myself, Savannah was my woman. When I thought she was hurt, and the fear I felt, visceral and deep, told me as much. But Savannah wasn’t my only concern.
There was a strong possibility I had a traitor in my clubhouse. I didn’t want to believe it, but I had to at least consider it, especially since I’d pissed everyone off with my decision to protect Savannah. I didn’t have a list of suspects, not yet, so I worked on it for a few hours while Savannah slept, curled up against my side.
By the time I turned and wrapped my arms around her, I had a list. A short, targeted list of who would dare help the Black Jacks against me. It was my last waking thought before drifting off into a light, restless sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Savannah
Sitting inside Charlie’s living room, now permanently dim thanks to the boarded up windows from yesterday’s adventures, that post-orgasmic high I’d been surviving on had left me exhausted. I’d slipped downstairs, leaving Charlie asleep in the bed. He’d be up and awake and off on his bike soon enough. But my high was draining away, and now I was feeling sad. And pissed the fuck off.
No, not just pissed off, fired up. I couldn’t live like this, not for the rest of my life. Hell, I didn’t even want to live like this for the rest of my time in Mayhem. Those guys were nothing but bullies, and I had my fucking fill of bullies, using their size or the size of their bank account, their wallet, to force others into submission. I stood from the chair that used to have a nice view of the neighbor’s vibrant green lawn with a growl for the neatly lined planks of wood that only allowed a few strips of light to enter.
Fuck the darkness.
Fuck it straight to hell.
The sound of a fist pounding on the door startled a gasp out of me, because for all my tough talk, that shit yesterday still had me rattled. The doors were no longer double-locked from the outside. A sign of trust from Charlie that I was determined not to betray, so I sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Twice. I looked down at myself to make sure I was decent. Jeans and a light orange tunic were about as decent as a former junkie whore could get, so I smoothed the fabric and looked through the peephole.
A youngish redhead stood off to one side of the door, trying like hell to peek through the slits in the boarded up windows. She wore a cheap black suit with a cheaper looking white Oxford shirt underneath, but it was the ugly yet functional black shoes that pegged her as law enforcement.