Savage Ending (Savage Trilogy 4)

“I really want you to see the lingerie.”

He pulls back to study me a moment, and I say, “What?”

“You really want to show me?” he asks.

“Is that bad?”

“No, baby.” His lips curve. “It’s fucking perfect. You’re fucking perfect and I just need to slow down. Not an easy thing to do when you just became Mrs. Savage.”

My lips curve now. “I love how that sounds.”

“Good, because that’s your new name and it’s not changing again.” He kisses me, hard and fast, and then pulls the skirt of my dress down.

I yelp as he surprises me, scooping me up, and starts walking.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Candace

Rick might have reined in the heat momentarily, but he doesn’t even try and make it to the bedroom.

He carries me toward the living room, where he sets me in front of the couch and moves the coffee table, already pulling his button-down over his head and tossing it away. “Show me,” he orders gently.

I grab his waistband and say, “You first.”

He arches a brow. “You want me naked first?”

“For once,” I say firmly. “Yes. You first.”

His eyes dance with mischief and he toes off his shoes. “What the wifey wants, the wifey gets.” He strips down and stands there naked, his thick cock jutted forward, his lean muscular body a magnificent, powerful sight. He’s gorgeous. And he’s mine.

“Now what?” he asks, holding his hands out to his sides.

I wet my dry lips. “Sit,” I order, pointing at the couch.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, and so he does.

I laugh, a little high on this power of mine that won’t last. He likes control. I like him in control. But this is fun. I give him my back, fix my bra, and finish unzipping the front of my dress, which was designed to run top to bottom. Once it’s hanging open, my pretty strappy white bra is exposed, and quite uplifting in all the right ways. My lacy bridal white garter belt wraps my waist and holds up white lace-top stockings. As for my panties, well—they’re barely there. I drop the dress and Rick gives a little moan of approval. This has me smiling and feeling oddly shy. He’s so intensely male and while turning him on is arousing and empowering, it’s a bit intimidating at times. I cover myself with my hands and turn around.

His eyes sweep over me and lift to my face. “Why are you covering yourself, baby?”

Heat rushes to my cheeks and I confess, “I don’t know,” in a low whisper.

He stands up and closes the space between us, easing my hands from my breasts and kissing my ring finger. Warmth spreads through my body and the shyness begins to fade. I have no idea why that little act, him kissing my ring is so erotic, but it is, incredibly so, in fact. He gives me a slow inspection and then his hands cup my neck under my hair, an intimate, dominant touch, that has my sex clenching.

He tilts my gaze to his and says, “You are stunning. So fucking beautiful. And for so many reasons, Candace, I don’t know how I lived without you. I don’t want to try again.” His voice is not about sex. It’s pure, raw, emotion. Oh yes, the shyness is gone. This is me and Rick. This is us and we are as right as anything ever could be in my life.

He kisses me, another gentle caress of lips to lips, before he deepens the connection with a long stroke of his seductive tongue.

I moan with the taste of possessiveness on his tongue and soon we end up on the couch, with me straddling him, and unhooking my bra, and tossing it aside. I don’t need it anymore. He saw it. Now he sees me. His cock is in front of me and I stroke it. He groans and drags my mouth to his, licking past my teeth, his fingers rolling my nipples.

“Take off the panties,” he orders roughly. “I need inside you now.”

“They have a slit,” I whisper, and that’s all he needs to hear. He captures my waist and lifts me, pressing inside me, anchoring me as I slowly slide down him until he’s buried inside me.

And then, all that shyness is gone. There is nothing but passion and the man I love. I rock with him, and the heat between us is scorching. The passion is so intense I barely recognize the sounds I’m making, but there is just such a deep ache in me for this man, I cannot do anything but try to sate it. He must feel the same, the need for more, because he rolls me over and captures my mouth and one of my legs, and then drives into me. Yes. Yes, that’s it, I want to say, but I can’t speak. He thrusts again and again, and I am suddenly there, in that sweet place I both resist and crave, so very badly. I’m trembling and he groans, a deep guttural groan, his head tilted back, his face contorted in pleasure, and then he’s shuddering into release. I’m done just enough before him to enjoy the display of all that power he possesses in complete abandon.