Savage Savior (Savage People 3)

“I promise, Butterfly,” I told her, smiling big and patting her on the head. “Now, go wipe up for me and continue working on the files I fucked up especially for you. I’ll need a few minutes before I take your ass.”

There’s this saying: fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice—have you seen the dick on this man? Seriously, it’s twelve inches, and not the grotesque, freak show kind of twelve inches. Smooth and gorgeous and porn-worthy in every single way.

After I sucked Cole’s cock like it was oxygen and I was underwater, I had to convince myself that everything was okay. That my plan was still intact. So as I fixed my hair in front of the mirror in the dirty, sticky bathroom of Hot N’ Bothered, I told myself that nothing had changed.

I was still working for Graham Savage to save up some money and move to the other side of the country.

I was just fucking Cole Savage in the process. It was nothing like what I had with Stefano, because the rules were clear. I wasn’t Cole’s girlfriend, and I wasn’t his date. I was his fuck-buddy. I wasn’t privy to his shady business, and I wouldn’t go to his place. We’d just fuck around here, in the club, when I had shifts. Honestly, I could think of worse ways to burn my time while I was “working”.

Anyway, at least he was kidding about the anal thingy. Not that I wasn’t down for it. I mean, when I came back from the bathroom, all flushed, he asked me to work without my jeans because “they’re useless as a bag of ball-less dicks” and forced me to read to him out loud every single file in the cabinet and replace every third word with “your cock”. I did it because it made me laugh and because I had nothing better to do. Time passed quickly, and I was beginning to fear for my heart. I shouldn’t have liked spending time with Cole. He was charming enough, sure, but so was Stefano, and we all know how that turned out.

After I was done reading to him the stupid, boring files of service providers and taxes for the club, he pointed at the filing cabinet and said, “Now put everything in the bottom drawer.”

I knew he asked me to do it because he wanted me to bend over, and I did because I wanted to see what he’d do next. When I inserted the files into the bottom drawer, as slowly as I possibly could, stalling, I heard him behind me.

“Don’t move. I think you have something on your ass.”

I grinned into the folders under me and thought about how a few years back, I was so stinking jealous of my best friend who had been fucking her stepdaddy in various venues just like this because he owned them all. And now it was about to be me.

A pang of sadness pierced through my heart as I considered this was probably also the reason why I’d agreed to date Stefano in the first place. I wanted what Dahlia had. Only Stefano wasn’t Graham. Stefano really was the fucking devil.

“There it is, the thing I need to take off your ass,” I heard Cole murmuring behind my back. Before I knew it, his teeth sank into the side of my panties, his thumb hooked into the other side, and he removed my lacey thong with his mouth. I sighed, feeling my wetness dripping inside my inner thigh and grabbed onto the file cabinet tightly.

“Is your ass ready for Cole Junior?” he murmured between my ass cheeks. I blushed. No, it definitely wasn’t. I’d only tried anal once and didn’t like it all that much. It made me feel uncomfortable and, quite frankly, like I had to go to the bathroom. But something told me that Cole knew something my previous sexual partner didn’t, and it encouraged me to take a second chance on it.

“We need lube.” I bit my lip and dragged my fingernails through the cabinet, about to die from need.

“No, baby. I’m going in dry.”

My breath was caught in my throat as I felt one of his hands grabbing onto my waist hard, squeezing, while the other rolled on a condom. I wasn’t ready. I was scared. So scared. But I didn’t want to chicken out on him.

My ass, on the other hand, was ready to run away from the scene.

“Cole, are you sure? I mean, you’re twelve inches long and pretty thick. I’m sure nature didn’t intend for your baseball bat to enter my little hole.”

He laughed but didn’t answer, and soon enough, I felt the smooth head of his cock sliding up and down between my butt cheeks. My thighs quivered with need and fear and my heart rate picked up. I felt the rapid thuds not only in my chest but also in my ears. Grabbing tighter to the cabinet, my knuckles white, I took a deep brea

th and was ready to exhale when he squeezed the head of his cock into my tight hole… But then, in one go, he plunged inside my pussy, and I sighed both in pleasure and relief.

He pulled on my long hair, bringing my head to his steel, muscular chest.

“I’ll never hurt your ass, baby. Yes, I will take you there, but I promise you, when I do, you’re going to beg for me to never stop.”

With that, he released the hold on my hair and started thrusting into me, deeper and deeper, massaging my clit with his hand and balancing me by my thigh with the other. I cried his name over and over again and held on to the cabinet for dear life, the friction, depth of his cock, and my throbbing, swollen clit too much to handle. Then I felt the first wave of an orgasm washing through me from head to toe and screamed so loud the muffled sound of the nightclub downstairs disappeared and all we heard was my voice.

He continued pumping into me until he reached his own orgasm, collapsing over my back and essentially making us both stumble and fall on the floor. We burst into crazy laughter, and he wrapped his strong, huge hands around me, into something that felt like a hug. I stilled completely when I realized he was embracing me the way no other man ever did before.

“What are you doing?” I whispered when our laughter died.

“You,” he answered, a content sigh leaving his perfect, luscious mouth. “I’m doing you, and I’m about to shout this shit from the rooftops.”

“Hey, girl!” Dahlia opened the door for me. I walked right into her New Jersey mansion, throwing my handbag onto the dining table in her family room. Goddammit, their house was nice. Dahlia was carrying Emerson in one arm and Kathleen in the other, and I wondered how she learned to do that.

“What’s up?” I chewed on my gum and followed her with my gaze as she put Emerson on the floor and Kathleen in one of those weird swings for newborns. “You look like your hands are full. Do you want me to make some coffee?”

“Screw coffee. We’re drinking wine.” Dahl pointed at a half-empty bottle of chardonnay on the granite countertop. I knew where to find the wine glasses and quickly poured us both generous glasses of the good stuff.

“Aren’t you supposed to be breastfeeding?” I asked.