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I lift her and fold her so that she’s all ass and legs in the air, open for me, and then I bring my mouth down on her entrance and pump my tongue inside her relentlessly. I use my thumb to slap and circle her clit, bringing her to another orgasm.
I like this method the best, so I do it again, playing her body and wringing out every last bit of pleasure.
She screams so loud during the fifth time she comes, that she starts losing her voice. My name on her breathless lips is enough for me.
Finally, I release her thighs. I lift her off the floor and lay her down on the sofa, then I cover her lower half with a blanket and walk out of the room, stumbling, almost tripping over the coffee table. I make it to the bedroom before I tug down the waistband of my sweats, grab my dick and start stroking it.
My hips thrust of their own accord, and I stumble again, grabbing at the bathroom door to keep myself upright.
“Savage.” Hannah’s standing in the bathroom doorway, a mess. Cheeks pink. Hair in disarray. Her voice is hoarse just like I fucking promised. “Savage.”
“Get on your knees, Princess.”
She lowers herself onto them, writhing for me, even though her pussy must be raw from how I’ve destroyed it.
I stand over her, working my cock. I pause, open my hand in front of her mouth. “Spit.”
She doesn’t hesitate, and my dick throbs at her willingness to comply.
I smooth my hand over my shaft, my head. “Mouth open,” I say.
Hannah sticks out her tongue, grabbing her breasts through my sweater.
I take a handful of her hair, and tip her head back, pulling tight, losing myself, and then I come all over that pretty little tongue, moaning as she drinks me down.
Twenty-Three
HANNAH
I’m shaking, hoarse, and utterly ruined.
Savage picks me up off the ground and holds me upright. “Hannah,” he croaks. “Hannah, I’m sorry.”
“What for?” I ask, looking up at him.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he says. “I shouldn’t have disrespected you. I lost control, and I’m sorry.”
“Disrespected me?” I pull back a step. “What is this, the fifties? You made me come like five times.” My throat hurts. “You made me scream. That’s not disrespectful, that was unreal.”
But Savage is shaking his head, and it’s already pissing me off.
“I made you get on your knees,” he says. “That’s not how I wanted something like this to go. I lost control.”
“Yeah, well, so did I. And I wanted to get on my knees.” I blush, because I can’t believe I’m saying these words to Savage, or that we just did what we did. “I wanted all of what happened, and so did you, whether you want to admit it or not.”
“That’s not what I’m saying, Hannah.”
“Oh, I see we’re back to Hannah, are we? Princess is gone?”
Savage pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let’s get you freshened up, and then we can talk about this.”
“Sure.” I strip the sweater off and drop it into the laundry basket in the corner.
Savage grunts. “I’ll give you some privacy.” He turns on the water in the shower, tests it until it’s warm, and then he heads for the bathroom door.
“Seriously? You just came in my mouth.”
“We’ll talk after you’re done.” And I hate the expression he’s wearing, the frown, the way he strokes his beard, shakes his head, like he can’t believe what he’s done. Savage regrets it. I don’t.
