Savage Queen (The Dark Elite 3)

He grunts, changing up his rhythm and circling his hips before pulling out entirely and flipping me over onto my stomach. He grabs a pillow and props it under my hips, then grabs my hand and brings it to my pussy, using both of our fingers to tease my clit.

When he slides into me again, I arch my back, thrusting my ass toward him as my teeth clamp down hard on my lower lip. My face is pressed against the mattress, and when he takes my free hand and pins it behind my back, I’m truly at his mercy.

Just like he fucking wanted.

His finger is a blur on my clit, my hand still trapped beneath his as he torments the sensitive bud. Our skin slaps together as he drives into me from behind, and when pleasure peaks inside me, I don’t even try to muffle my scream in the blankets.

“So fucking perfect,” he murmurs, wrapping an arm around me and hauling me up, pressing my back to his chest. His other hand stays on my clit, the movements slowing but not stopping. “Come for me again, Grace. Let me fucking wreck you.”

His tone promises something dark and delicious, and I lean back against him, letting him control me entirely—trusting him entirely.

I know he’s not lying. He’s not teasing.

He will wreck me.

But in the best fucking way.

Holding me steady with the arm that’s looped around my waist, he slams into me, picking up the tempo of his fingers until pleasure washes through me in a wave and I scream again.

And again.

And again.

He’s relentless—vicious, almost—in his need to draw more pleasure out of me. Blood is rushing in my ears, and spots of white light dance in my vision. But when he thrusts as deep as he can and grinds against me, pinching my clit between his thumb and forefinger, I let go and fall over the edge one more time.

“Fuck. Yes, baby. Fucking yes.”

His harsh whisper falls into my ear as he pulses inside me, finally letting himself go too. For several long heartbeats, our bodies keep moving, grinding against each other, straining to get closer, to prolong the pleasure.

Finally, we both collapse forward. Hale’s full weight rests on me, his cock still twitching inside me. He presses a wet, sloppy kiss to my shoulder and then pulls out, dropping onto his back and pulling me into his arms. Even in the sated, lazy aftermath of sex, his touch is possessive, his hold on me tight.

He strokes my hair, running his fingers through the strands as we catch our breath.

I’m almost asleep, my eyelids

drooping and my body melting against his, when he speaks quietly in my ear.

“I will never lie to you, Grace.”

16

Hale

Grace’s breath is slow and even, her pale features ethereal in the dim light of early morning.

I bury my face in her soft neck, the perfect expanse of skin between her shoulder and chin. For just a few seconds, I let myself pretend I can stay here all morning with her. That I don’t have to get out of this bed and go to my father’s office.

That I don’t have a fucking war to fight.

Despite the shit that’s come with it, I can’t regret the fact that my father sent me, Ciro, Zaid, and Lucas to Washington to bring back her father. There are a million things I wish had happened differently, but I can’t be sorry our lives crashed into each other again. Not when her body is tangled with mine beneath the sheets and her soft exhale brushes against my neck. Not when I have her in my arms.

I pull away a little to look down at her.

There’s always been something about Grace that takes my breath away. I’ve never even come close to feeling it with another woman. I’m not sure what it is, not sure if it’s something as consuming as love or as violent as obsession, but I’m not going to let my mistakes touch her ever again.

The beginning of our relationship was a fucked up mess. I refuse to let the future of our relationship be the same.

“I am determined,” I murmur quietly, kissing her bare shoulder. “I’m determined not to fuck up the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ll keep you safe. You know that, Grace?”