Page 3 of Serpent & Saviors

“I’m taking you on a proper date tonight. To a poetry reading later. Maybe it will inspire you. You could try your hand at writing. I know you mentioned it, but you didn’t really seem to want any of the ones on the shelves,” Andrew said casually.

I was in a stupor, and the confession tumbled out, “I actually used to write poetry. And journals…they were a lifeline when I was younger.”

His eyes held mine as we stared at one another.

“Can I interest you in some pens?” the cashier interrupted.

“Huh?” I asked stupidly.

“We’ll take them,” Andrew answered her before pulling me into his arms. “Relax, it’s okay.”

The way her face lit up when we walked in was unreal. Walking through the bookstore with her? Priceless. She radiated, and it was captivating. I couldn’t pinpoint the sensation running through me.

It was like I was face to face with a puzzle that didn’t have a simple solution. I tried rationalizing it, chalking it up to the nature of my profession. I was trained to empathize and connect with people, and I was damned good at my job.

Her pain was something I understood. Even if I made assumptions about the exact source. Normally, offering support within boundaries was enough. With her, I wanted to throw those boundaries out the fucking window.

There was something so different, something that defied anything I’d encountered before. I’d racked my brain all day trying to dissect it. I couldn’t tell if it was her vulnerability speaking to me or the fact that I hated Cameron.

It wasn’t a factor I could ignore, so I leaned into it being the latter option. I wrestled with my emotions the entire way back to the hotel. So much so, I didn’t even realize we’d arrived at our suite. Confusion set in, and I wondered if I’d made the right call.

Maybe I should have done what Ivan suggested and had Bash step in. He would have the clarity that I seemed to lack. But the thought of her lying in bed with him made me uneasy. Hell, jealous, even.

What was happening here? Was I really experiencing true jealousy again over someone I held as closer than a brother? I raked my hand through my hair.

“You okay?” she asked, stirring me from my thoughts. She set her bag down on the table.

“Never better,” I lied as I glanced at her sexy lips. I wanted to kiss her again, to feel her mouth give way to mine.

“So…where is this poetry reading? Are we going there next?” she asked nervously.

A faint grin tugged at the corners of my lips. “It’s actually at the teahouse where we first met. They have several evening events throughout the week. Tonight, it’s open mic.”

Her eyes brightened with genuine interest. “I’ve missed the tea there. It’s my favorite, you know.”

I chuckled softly. “I didn’t. But why don’t you rest and then change? We’ll head out in about an hour?”

She hesitated for a moment, as if something was weighing on her. Then, a hesitant small smile spread across her face. “Alright, is there anything specific you’d like to see me in?”

A pretty pink spread across her cheeks. Taking her hand, I pulled her into the dressing room. She smelled so good. Her perfume drifted up, and my pulse quickened. I pulled the soft yellow dress from the closet.

“This one,” I said, my voice coming out gravely and thick with emotion.

My cock ached to be buried inside her, and I couldn’t get the image of having her long legs hooked around my waist or, even better, around my shoulders, out of my head. I had to stifle a groan as I remembered how good she tasted on my tongue.

“Yes, Sir,” she murmured, bowing her head.

I wanted to scream at her not to call me that, but at the same time it did something entirely wicked to me. My dominant nature was screaming to assert itself. Submission looked delicious on her. It was unlike the night at the auction house.

While her form was breathtaking then, the forced and frightened demeanor to it was missing now. The difference was night and day, or in this case, a difference between willing and not willing.

The vision of her on her knees, dressed in nothing but heels and lingerie, ran through my head. It expanded, and I could almost feel my hands intertwined in her hair as she looked up. Tears would stream down her face, making her mascara run while my cock moved in and out of her mouth.

“You’ll look amazing in this.” My eyes roamed her body once more, taking it in. “Wear your hair down for me, please.”

“And knickers, Sir, would you like me to wear them or not?”

I groaned, not even caring that she could hear it. I recalled how well her round ass fit in my hands. If this woman were mine, really mine, she wouldn’t ever wear any, so I could play with her whenever I wanted. Which would be often. I stupidly wondered if she’d let me. I shook my head to clear my thoughts.