She blinked but nodded, so I lifted it and pressed it to her mouth. Her skin blanched under pressure, but stayed an oily, rosy pink thanks to the lip paint.
I persevered though, being careful with each move I made, and all the while, she watched me. All the while, her pussy stayed close to my thigh and I felt her heat drenching me.
"Thank God that we’re both wearing black," she rasped, proving that our minds were aligned.
I smirked at her. "You’ll always have to wear black around me, little one, unless you don’t mind looking…crumpled." At least, that was if I did my job right.
"Always?"
I almost shook my head at her, but there was anguish in the choked out word. So, though it made no sense, I still caught her eye and nodded. "Always."
This was insanity but I’d never felt saner in my life.
She gulped, then rasped, "Always." This time, her tone was more certain.
I had no idea what I was going to do with this woman, had no idea if she’d survive my father or Christmas dinner, but there was only one way to test her: a trial by fire.
"I thought you were going to make me walk out there with my lipstick smeared," she rasped as I gave her a few final touches with the cloth.
"I’ll never humiliate you in public," I rumbled. "That’s not how I work."
"Just in private, hmm?" Her eyes were sparkling as she said it, though, which made me wonder if that was her kink. To each their own. I could adapt.
"If that’s what you need."
"What do you need?" she crooned.
"You’ll find out soon enough."
I dropped the cloth once I was satisfied with how cleaned up she was. Her mouth was oddly pale now I’d wiped off the paint as well as some of her make-up, and I was grateful I hadn’t exposed any bruises as that would have turned me homicidal, but she didn’t seem to care.
Savannah would, I realized, always bewilder me. Another woman would have reacted with horror at my assholish possessiveness, but she just appeared amused, especially after I tempered it with an endearment.
Because I wanted to reward her patience with me, I reached around her waist and pulled her away from the elevator wall. Then I grabbed her ass, and asked, "You ever been fucked here?"
"That your favorite place, hmm?" she asked, grinding into me again.
"Answer the question," I demanded.
Her throat bobbed. "No."
"Why not?" She was no inexperienced ingénue.
"Because the guys I’ve been with barely knew what my clit was. You think I was about to trust them with my ass? That place’ll bleed, and not in a good way. In a ‘we need to go to the ER’ kind of way."
Any other woman said that, I’d have laughed.
With her, I pushed her into the wall, dropped my forehead to hers, and rumbled, "No talk of other men."
Her breath skipped as she moaned, "But you asked!"
"I don’t care. I don’t care if it’s illogical. No fucking talk of this pussy that belongs to me being handled by another fucker. You got me?"
"Christ, that shouldn’t be as hot as it is," she admitted on a whimper, before she reached up and joined our mouths.
She was like liquid silk in my arms, flowing into me, conforming around me like she was meant to be there.
And maybe she was.
Because Savannah was prickly. She wasn’t born to conform. She wasn’t made to be silk.
Except with me.
I let her stake her own claim, let her thrust her tongue against mine, panting as she tried to get closer, to burrow into me as her arms slid around my neck and she ground her pussy against me some more.
When she was rocking faster, faster, I added pressure to the move, shoving my leg higher and pressing her down harder.
She winced a second, released a shaky breath, then wiggled, and I figured I’d pushed down on that shallow cut to her upper thigh. Letting her find her own comfort levels, letting her find her pleasure, I watched as she got back into the groove.
The nearer her approach to orgasm, the less insistent her kiss was, so I took it over, well aware that, though the doors were closed so no one could see us, the maître d’ might be able to hear us.
But I didn’t stop.
She’d come to learn that I’d always take care of her.
Even if she didn’t want me to.
So I took over the kiss, fucking her mouth like I couldn’t fuck her pussy just yet, and then, as she started to orgasm, I kept her tongue busy to reduce the noise she made.
No one would hear her this way.
Ever.
As she came down, I held her tight as she slumped into me, then I drew kisses along her cheekbone, moving until I reached her ear.
"That ass is going to be mine. Every fucking part of you is going to be mine.
"I’m going to fill every hole you’ve got with my cum, until your body is stamped with my scent, stamped with me." I nipped her earlobe. "And I know you’re going to be okay with that, because you want that as much as I do."
She released a shaky breath, and her mahogany hair tickled my cheek as she nodded. The scent of vanilla and chocolate filled my senses. Rich and deep, evocative and musky. Her. Just Savannah. Better than cookies or any kind of dessert. Even my ma’s.
With a final nip to her earlobe, I started to straighten up, then I asked, "Are you okay to stand?"
When she peered up at me with big eyes, I knew I’d found the way to de-prick the most prickly woman in the universe—just pet her until she purred.
Satisfied with her, so fucking thrilled with her responsiveness right at that moment, I couldn’t stop myself from pressing a kiss to her lips, then helping her straighten up.
On those ice picks for shoes, I knew she might be a bit wobbly, so I clamped her to my side and said, "Come on, little one, let’s save Jen from herself."
Twenty-Four
Savannah
Swoon.
Could I just say that again? And again?
Every time he mentioned the words, ‘little one,’ I felt an internal shudder, like my pussy was clutching emptiness when it really needed his dick.
Never in my life would I think I’d get off from riding a man’s thigh. No other direct sexual stimulation than a kiss—like a naughty teenager who only dared to hit second base—but lawd, I should have known Aidan would be different.
Maybe that’s what had always made me think of him.
Maybe he was a walking promise of sin and salvation all wrapped up together in a bundle of hot hunk that I would never be able to compete with.
I was still drooling from him smearing my lipstick, and considering that took me a good twenty minutes to perfect, I should have been pissed but because it was a move born of possessiveness, I was more than okay with him being an asshole. Especially as the only place he wanted lipstick was around his dick, apparently, and I was more than happy to oblige.
*shudder*
Each step we made toward the maître d’s station was hard won thanks to how sensitive I was, but when the guy looked at me, I felt no shame, and neither did he look at me knowingly. If anything, he peered at me as if I were insane, his gaze darting between the pair of us, which told me he knew exactly who Aidan was.