Her tits were taking a beating from the tree bark. He didn’t like that. It wasn’t his intention. He could put stripes on her, but he wasn’t bruising her body with the fucking tree. His hands went to her breasts, filling his palms, pulling her back away from the tree trunk, squeezing hard with every ferocious pump. Her breath came in ragged gasps as he mashed and kneaded her breasts, holding her to him as he rode her body hard. All the while, he kept his hands between her breasts and the bark of the tree.
Her body grew hotter. Scorching. Like the lava pools in a volcano. His girth swelled impossibly, forcing the soft tissue to accommodate his size as he pounded into her. Deep. Deeper. He wanted to stay buried in her forever. Powerful waves broke over her, sweeping through with gale-force intensity. That silken tunnel, already so fucking tight, clamped down like a vise, squeezing, strangling his cock. He threw back his head and roared to the night. She cried out, the sound beautiful to him. Her pussy was greedy, milking his cock hungrily, so that it felt as if a thousand tongues were lapping at him, fists squeezing to drag every drop from him.
His head spun as euphoria settled over him, and for a time he couldn’t think or move, barely able to breathe or stand. All he could do was feel that bliss, making him feel he wasn’t really on this planet but somewhere else entirely. He came back to himself slower than he ever had out in the open. He could only hope someone had been watching his back, because he sure as hell didn’t know what was going on around him.
Savage could barely stand up, and his woman was collapsing, would have gone straight to the ground had it not been for the ties, her breath coming in ragged sobs as her legs gave out. He tightened his hold on her waist, refusing to allow her knees or bottom to touch the ground. Quickly, he untied her, and then, managing to get his cock back in his jeans with one hand and zip his pants, he took her weight.
“Shh, baby, it’s going to be all right. I’ve got you.” He repeated the mantra over and over, burying his face against her neck. He had to find the strength to get them both to the sleeping bags. He hadn’t thought the tree was that damn far when he’d set the scene.
She didn’t answer him, her body still almost a dead weight, but he could tell she made an effort to stay upright and hold herself away from him. He didn’t like that. She’d done it before. When they had intense sex like this, she needed him afterward just as much as before and during. She needed care from him. She needed to know they were a couple, and she was loved.
“Baby, put your arms around me and let me take care of you.”
She shook her head, trying to stay where she was, but he reached down and managed to get an arm under her knees and lift her, cradling her against his chest. Savage felt the strength returning to his body, and he straightened, taking her with him. She turned her tearstained expression away from his gaze as he tried to assess her condition. She buried her face against his chest so he couldn’t see jack, but he could feel how wet her face was.
He was still fully clothed where she was completely naked. He made his way back to the sleeping bags, soothing her gently, talking to her in Russian, scattering kisses on top of her head. She didn’t look at him. That was a bad sign, but she’d done that before. He was just going to have to teach her that aftercare was every bit as important as what they did together during sex.
Savage sank down onto the sleeping bag, Seychelle on his lap, cuddling her close to him. He felt her movement, as she tried to squirm off. “Stay still, baby. I have to get this lotion on you. Once I get it on your front, especially your breasts, you can lay on the sleeping bag so I can get your other side. It helps with any bruising or swelling. It also has a numbing agent in it.”
He’d been damn careful with the switch until that last strike. He’d laid that one on her ass just a little too heavy. It was going to leave a bruise for sure. Every other stripe would fade within twenty-four hours. He’d been that careful. It was difficult to tell in the dark. He had to light the gas lantern he had waiting next to the sleeping bags.
Her body was shuddering continually, tremors running through her until he thought she might shake apart. She covered her face with her hands and rocked her body back and forth. “Hurry, Savage. Just get the lotion.” Her voice was muffled. Laced with pain.
That jerked his head up. He had been holding her on his lap with one arm and fumbling in the dark for the lotion with the other, but now he narrowed his eyes and dragged the lantern to him.
“Babe. This shouldn’t be hurting any worse than …” He trailed off. He’d been consumed by rage all day. He’d been collecting the anger from his brothers and sisters and storing it up for weeks. Cursing under his breath, he managed to get the lantern lit and shone it on her body. His mouth went dry. Sweat broke out on his body.
“Fuck me, Seychelle,” he whispered between clenched teeth. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not here. Not now. Not when neither of them was prepared. Not with a fucking switch. She wasn’t trained for this. He hadn’t brought her in gently. Lovingly. What the fuck was wrong with him that he’d been so out of control he hadn’t known? This was why he needed his brothers around him. He shouldn’t have been alone with her when the monster was so close. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He caught up the lotion and poured it over the slashes to her front. So many of them. Many more than he’d thought he’d put on her. He tore a strip of cloth from his shirt and soaked it with lotion to lay over her breasts. The entire time he whispered to her that it was going to be all right. That he’d take care of her. That the lotion would numb the pain. He had something in his pack that would help. He just had to get this on her first.
It wasn’t going to be all right. He knew that. He could barely breathe. Barely think. His heart was racing, and his mind was all over the place. There was a roaring in his ears. Blood thundering. No one could ever love a fucking monster. Not really. He’d lied to himself. Let her in. He’d let himself believe. Let his guard down. He wanted her so much. And then he’d done this. He’d fucking done this to her.
He wasn’t going to put his screwup on Seychelle and ask her why she didn’t stop him. She’d given him a yellow. This wasn’t on her. This was on him. He’d known he was on the edge. He still was. This wasn’t as bad as he could get. Not by a long shot. The idea was to ease her into his life, not crash her into it. Not hurt her when he’d promised her he wouldn’t, with the others around them. He’d broken about every fucking promise he’d ever made to her. She’d made it clear she was damn sick of his broken promises. He’d thought he’d come up with something special for her, and instead, his true identity had rushed forth and taken over, and now she was lost to him.
“I’m going to wrap you, Seychelle, and give you painkillers, get you to sleep and then put you in the truck and head for home tonight.”
She shook her head and pressed her face against his chest. “You have to work tomorrow.” It came out muffled between sobs, but she got it out.
“Fuck that, baby. Reaper or Keys can take my place. I’m taking you home. They can bring my bike. I’ve done enough for the club this run. Both of us have.” He kept pouring on the lotion and smoothing it over the stripes until he thought he could safely lay her down. “Careful, baby. I need to get the other side. Don’t try to move around. Let me do this for you.”