Page 6 of Savage Grace
“That’s what he said,” I mumbled, snort-laughing at my own joke, before finally releasing the stubborn button of his jeans and dragging the zipper down.
With that, he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, storming through the dark house at a determined pace. I was sure that if anything got in his way at that moment, he would kick it aside, whether it was a three-legged dog or his grandma.
A drunken giggle escaped when we rounded a harsh corner. He chuckled and smacked my ass playfully before opening another door, slamming it shut and throwing me onto the bed.
The mattress was feather-soft, so soft that I felt I might melt into it. Though, that could have also been a side effect of the alcohol.
He stood at the edge of the bed, looking down at me with a curious smirk while I ran my hands over the buttery fabric of his sheets. Everything was so luxurious, so soft and silky and comfortable.
Surely, it must have been a woman who picked out these sheets. I made a mental note to ask him about them later and find out where he had got them from.
I pushed my hair to one side and crawled to the edge of the bed to meet him, fingers reaching out to tug at his already unbuttoned jeans.
He swatted my hand away lightly, taking a step back and making a motion with his finger, telling me he wanted me to turn around.
Again, by some miracle, I did as I was told.
I turned to face the headboard, reaching forward and splaying out until I was face down in his silky pillow with my ass in the air. He made me wait for a few moments before I felt his hands on me.
The sensation of his rough finger trailing up the back of my calf made me shiver a little from the light touch. He continued tracing lines on my bare skin; up the back of my thigh, over my ass, up my back.
Every movement was painfully slow and calculated, like he was imagining different shapes and figures to etch into my skin with his fingers.
He found the tiny zipper halfway down my back, tugging at it a few times with no movement. I chuckled a little, remembering how stubborn the zipper of this dress was, and how the fabric always bunched beneath it.
The stranger fiddled with it for a while longer before a frustrated growl escaped him. Seconds later, his once gentle hands had balled into fists around the material and ripped the back of the dress open.
“Hey!” I half-snapped, half-giggled.
“Shush,” he said. “I’ll buy you a new one.”
I scoffed at that. “You couldn’t afford it, honey.”
It was his turn to laugh this time. “Whatever you say,honey.”
Sober Zarina would likely be thoroughly pissed about the state of her dress, but she would have to forgive me. Because before I had any time to argue the point further, he had torn the remaining pieces of material from my skin, pressing warm kisses down my spine as he went and cleared the way.
He tugged my panties to the side, giving me no warning before the warmth of his mouth covered me.
I gasped in a breath, trying not to shudder under his tongue immediately. His grip was firm on my calves, forcing my legs further apart as he licked and nibbled between my thighs.
“Oh, fuck,” I moaned, arching my back and giving him more access.
He growled a noise of approval against me and my eyes rolled back at the sensation.
It wasn’t like I held the men I picked up in the early hours of the morning to any sort of high expectation. I kept the bar low in order to avoid disappointment, but sometimes I was pleasantly surprised.
Thiswas one of those times.
My intuition was usually right, but god, was I thanking Past Zarina right then as this particular stranger’s tongue licked and flicked and sucked at my clit.
This man was devouring me like he had been deprived of pussy for a lifetime.
“Holy fuck,” I panted again, clawing at his headboard like a wildcat. “Fuck?—”
Wait.
He must have felt me go stiff in that instant, because he slowed and then stopped.
