Saviour: A Devil's Spawn MC Novel (Savior Book 3) Page 15

  His lips are warm and soft, but firm and knowing at the same time. This isn’t a sweet kiss. Far from it. It’s rough. Passionate. All-consuming. Tank moves his mouth skilfully over mine demanding entrance, taking what’s always been his to have. The first taste of him leaves me dizzy. Tank tastes like years of pent up desire mixed with longing, deep and soulful like the man himself. The way his tongue coaxes mine to tangle with his is beautiful.

  The kiss reminds me of what a complex man Tank really is. While he isn’t asking, he’s commanding my compliance; he’s also giving just as much as he’s taking. I never expected to get confirmation of his feelings for me, so everything he’s willing to share I’ll cherish.

  As his hands begin to roam down my back, settling on the globes of my ass he squeezes. Tank’s not a gentle man. Nothing about his size hints that he will be. I don’t think he’s capable of tender, but that’s not what I want right now anyway. All I want is for him to fuck me. I want this moment with him, and I’m prepared to let him take this as far as he wants.

  I moan into his mouth as his left hand travels underneath the hem of my tank top resting just below my lace covered breast.

  “Fuck me! You’re so fucking sexy Beautiful,” Tank rasps out. Urging him on by pressing my chest further into his hand he gets the picture quickly. “You need me to touch you, Baby?”

  That’s a stupid question. Of course I want him to touch me. I’m all but throwing myself at him. Instead of answering I pull myself from his grip and take two steps back. Furrowing his brow Tank looks confused, and hurt all at the same time. His expression changes instantaneously when I rip my shirt over my head and unhook my bra. With the offending scrap of lace dangling from my index finger I ask,

  “Does that answer your question?”

  And then he’s on me. As in, on top of me, pressing me back into the old desk that is no longer cluttered, seeing as with one sweep of his arm Tank knocked it all to the floor. His hands are everywhere. Running up and down my sides. Cupping the underside of my breasts. Tracing his calloused thumb over the hard peaks of my nipples. I moan again because I can’t help it. Because not only is this Tank, but because I’m so turned on I think with a few more sweeps of his rough fingers across my highly sensitive flesh I’ll ignite.

  It also doesn’t help that I’ve been sans male company of the sexual variety for almost two years. Aside from the assistance of my trusty silicon companion ‘Orlando’, short for ‘Orlando the Orgasm Originator’ I’ve been without man-made orgasm for two whole years. I know, tragic right? And for your information, yes I named my vibrator, and yes his name is awesome.

  But there’s something to be said for a man’s hands on your body. One’s that knows exactly where to touch a woman. One that knows what will bring her the most pleasure. While most of us women are able to stimulate ourselves to a satisfactory ending if necessary, the right man, the one that you know deep down in your soul you’re meant to be with, is capable of mind-blowing ecstasy that we can never possibly recreate. For me that man is Tank, and he is certainly not disappointing.

  Tank’s hand popping the button on my jeans brings me out of my own head back into the present. Growling low in his throat his eyes lock with mine, and I can’t look away if I wanted to, which I don’t. His ice blue eyes pierce mine holding me hostage. So taking both of my hands I place them on his jaw softly tracing the lines of his brow with my fingertips; down the sides of his jaw and across to his lips I caress his slightly fuller upper lip. The tenderness in his eyes contradicts the grip he has on my hips.

  His tongue lashes out capturing my finger, his lips following not far behind. Sucking it into his mouth his tongue swirls seductively around it, and I wish in that moment that it was my nipple, my clit, anything but my finger being welcomed into his hungry, wet mouth. Letting it go with a pop he removes a hand from my hip and grips my hair tightly.

  “What do you want Beautiful? I need you to say the words. I need to know you want the same thing as I do.”

  I’ve asked myself that very question a million times over the course of the last six years. The only answer I can come up with. The only one that makes sense is,

  “You. Just you Tank.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Hunter

  Saviour – Rise Against

  If you told me this morning that by just after lunch I’d have Priscilla Anne Walker naked from the waist up with her jeans unbuttoned, her matching aqua lace panties peeking at me from behind the parted denim, and her telling me the only thing she wants is me; I’d have called you a liar.

  It feels like a dream. Surreal is another word for it. And I can’t help but think if I close my eyes long enough she’ll disappear. Not that I want to close my eyes, I want to see everything, memorise every inch of her skin. Her full tits. Beautiful long golden hair spread around her like a halo. I want to remember it all. Just in case one day I wake up, and realise this was all in fact a dream, and the girl of my dreams was a figment of my lonely, miserable imagination. I’ve spent so long wanting this woman that I don’t know if I had a hundred years with her that it would feel more real than it does now, it’ll probably always feel dreamlike.

  I run my tongue along her neck nipping at her pulse point that’s pounding a rapid rhythm. I don’t doubt Priss is as turned on as I am. I can smell it on her. Around her. The room is heavy with it, and it makes me a lucky son-of-a-bitch being able to be the man to make her feel like this. I can almost taste her on my tongue, so deciding that’s exactly what I want, I drop to my knees in front of her ripping her jeans down her legs, taking them to the ground with me.

  Tossing them over my shoulder once I get them free of her feet I gaze up at her and my breath stills in my chest. She looks fucking amazing laying there, spread out like a feast, waiting for me to devour her. If she only knew how true that was. What I’m going to do to her if she lets me. It’s probably illegal in forty-eight states, but right now I don’t give a shit I’ll take what she offering me so beautifully. I’ll take it as the gift it is.

  Hooking my thumbs in the sides of her lace boy-short panties I slowly peel them down her legs making sure my palms connect with every bit of skin they can on their descent. Once they’re off I tuck them in the pocket of my jeans, and make a mental note to stash them somewhere safe when I get home. There’s no way she’s getting them back. They’re like a fucking trophy to mark the momentous occasion when I finally got to touch her for the first time.

  Beginning at the inside of her left knee I trail my tongue up the supple length of skin inhaling the light, fresh scent of her skin. Alternating between licking, and sucking small sections of her thigh into my mouth switching sides, and then switching back again Priss starts to writhe against the surface of the desk. I trace the crease between her hip and thigh with my nose and try to absorb the musky, sweet smell of her beautiful pussy.

  There’s nothing like the smell, taste, feel, of a woman’s pussy. I’ve buried my head between countless woman’s thighs, and I can tell you they’re all unique. I’ve also had my share of women that are embarrassed, or shy about me eating them out. For all those women I didn’t bother finding out why they reacted like that. I didn’t give a fuck. It wasn’t something I did all the time, actually it was pretty rare for me to offer to go down on a woman, because I usually didn’t stick around long enough to make it to round two, let alone deviate from the main event. But the times I did manage to control my cock long enough to offer something more than senseless fucking, I remembered how much I enjoyed eating a woman’s pussy. It wasn’t something all men liked, I knew a few that flat-out refused to do it unless the woman was his girlfriend or wife, but I fucking loved having all that cream coating my tongue, sliding down my throat, being able to taste it for hours after I’d left them.

  The feeling of a woman’s thighs wrapped around your head, squeezing, undulating, rubbing, is a heady sensation. Knowing you can bring a woman so much pleasure that she’s got no choice but to cum with a scream
, feeds my already overinflated ego. It isn’t a purely selfless act though. Most of the women I’ve offered to do it for in the past were small women, one’s I needed to get ready for me, one’s I needed to make nice and wet, so I could slide right in.

  When I went trolling for a woman in a bar to take to bed for the night, I couldn’t seem to remember to stop picking petite women. I’m not small anywhere, and I’ve been turned down by a few women once I’ve dropped my pants because of it. If I was any other guy I might’ve taken it as an insult, but coupled with their ‘Oh hell no, that beast isn’t getting anywhere near me’, I took it as a compliment instead.

  Eleven inches isn’t anything to sneeze at, and for a lot of women it’s more than they’ll ever see again. A few of the brothers told me I should just use one of the club whores to scratch my itch when I had them, that they can take it, and they’ll beg for more. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Knowing that one day Priss would be mine; that she’d have to come face-to-face with a whore that had sucked my cock, or I’d fucked one night when I was so drunk that I finally gave in, was enough to turn me off the idea altogether.

  Turning my attention back to the woman writhing beneath my mouth, I hear her moan deep in her throat as I lick her slit, and swirl my tongue around the swollen nub of her clit. Asking in a deeper voice than usual,

  “You like that Beautiful? You want to come on my face, while I fuck you with my fingers, get you ready for my cock?”

  I don’t think she could answer me if she wanted to. Priss is so close to orgasm the power of speech eludes her. Whimpering and pushing her drenched pussy further into my mouth I suction onto her outer lips, and suck hard. Plunging two fingers deep into her tight, wet cunt, I move them rhythmically, slowly increasing the speed until I start to feel her pulse around them. I’d love to watch her cum for me, but I want my mouth on her more. So returning to the engorged nub of her clit I graze it with my teeth pulling it back into my mouth, flicking my tongue over it rapidly.

  Both of her hands fly to my head as she tries to find purchase, reminding me of another thing I need to change; I need to grow my hair out. I want to feel her pulling on it. Tugging hard as she cums all over my face. Over and over again. One last brush of my stiffened tongue is all it takes before she dives head-first into the abyss of her orgasm

  Ripping my fingers from her pussy, I use my free hand to pop all five buttons that make up the fly of my jeans thanking God I was too lazy to bother with boxers this morning. Freeing my aching cock, I know this won’t last long. She’s too fucking beautiful. Too fucking delicious. And all fucking mine. Palming my cock, and stroking a few times cum leaks from the tip, so I use it to lube up my shaft.

  Lining my cock up with the entrance of her pussy I’m poised to push in when I hear her say softly,

  “I love you Hunter. I’ve loved you for a long time.” I know that. I’ve known it for longer than I care to acknowledge because that would mean I was a selfish asshole making her wait this long before I let her have me. All of me. But I’ll be damned now that I have her if I make her go another day without every piece of me. Everything that I have to give.

  Sinking my cock inside her an inch at a time I suck in a deep breath, exhaling on a hiss as I make it almost half-way inside. Priss is so fucking tight that a moment of fear grips at my heart. I don’t want to hurt her, that’s the last thing I want to. Sensing my inner turmoil she puts her small soft hands back on the side of my face like she did earlier turning my gaze toward her.

  “Hey, it’s okay. You won’t hurt me Hunter, I promise.”

  She looks so sincere. So fucking perfect. I can’t wait a second longer to tell her. “I fucking love you Priscilla Anne Walker. Every fucking piece of you. You’re mine, and I’m yours.”

  Smiling at me Priss grabs my hips and jerks me toward her effectively embedding the full length of my cock deep within her body. This moment is one I’ll never forget. The first time I claimed the only woman I’ve ever loved. I’ll claim her a million times after this, but this time will be the one I’ll think back on when I remember finally making her mine.

  I start thrusting slow and easy, the strokes almost lazy as I sink in and out of her tight cunt. It doesn’t take long before I’m building the strength of my thrusts in time with her moans and whimpers, and begin pounding into her with a ferocity I’ve never felt before. The need to make her feel me inside her tomorrow when she moves consumes me.

  “Harder Hunter. More. I’m so close. Pl-Please.” She manages on a moan.

  More than happy to oblige I quicken my pace. Pounding turns into nearly savage thrusts of my hips as I grab the outside of her thighs, spreading them wider to accommodate the driving force of my hips. I’m gripping her hard enough to leave bruises in the morning, and that should be cause enough to loosen my hold on her, but it’s not. A primal part of me wants to see my mark on her. My brand darkening her skin. It might be wrong, but I can’t smother the desire to clamp down harder.

  The ripples along the inner walls of her pussy becomes spasms, she’s teetering on the edge of her second orgasm, so gliding my hand up her thigh and across her toned stomach I move further south, using my thumb to put pressure on her over sensitised clit. At the touch of my thumb Priss falls over the edge clamping down on my cock so tightly it borders on actual pain. I’m not far behind her. With four hard strokes I still above her, my body solid, braced for explosion as my spine tingles with the tell-tale sign I’m not lasting a second longer.

  As I cum over and over again in her pussy, that’s still suffering from the aftershocks of her intense orgasm, the niggling feeling at the back of my mind explodes into my conscious thought. Jesus Christ. I forgot the fucking condom. I’ve never gone unwrapped with a woman, I’ve never felt a woman’s bare pussy milk my cock. Not even my so-called wife has had my cock inside her uncovered.

  The thought should scare the shit out of me, but it doesn’t. I should be pulling out, too late or not, but I don’t. I should ask her if she’s protected, but I don’t do that either. Part of me hopes that she’s not. I want to see her belly rounded, filled with our baby. I want her tied to me. I want Priss to be the mother of my children. And I can’t help feeling a little hope in the knowledge that we might have just made something beautiful together.

  Pushing up off the desk bringing her with me, still connected, me inside her I slump onto the couch behind me exhaling loudly.

  “You fucking own me Beautiful. You know that don’t you? You own every fucking piece of me.”

  Raising her head from where it’s been resting in the crook of my neck, Priss licks up the column of my throat whispering when she gets to my ear,

  “Ditto big boy.”

  Releasing a shaky laugh I disengage her sharp little teeth from the earlobe she’s currently attacking looking into her eyes. I can only hope she sees the depth of what I feel for her reflected in them. Her stunning aqua coloured eyes entrance me like every time I look at her, but this time they’re deeper, it’s deeper. The colour’s darkened with her residual lust, and love shines from their depths. It’s a good look on her. One I plan to keep there for the next, let’s say, forever.

  “You okay Beautiful? I didn’t hurt you?” I wasn’t thinking when I took her, at least not with the head on my shoulders, but I shouldn’t have worried because Priss throws her head back and laughs. Speaking of…“You keep laughing like that, and I’m not gonna be responsible for what I do next.” Her muscles are clamping down on my cock, so she’s got about five seconds to get her shit under control before I bend her over the arm of couch we’re sitting on and fuck her again.

  She’s obviously got no idea what she does to me when she asks,

  “Why? You asking if you hurt me is funny. Did you hear me complain once about what we just did?” Sitting on my now hard enough to pound nails cock, her brow quirked, waiting for my answer, Priss has never been more adorable. So instead of telling her what she’s in for I decided to show her.

  Swinging h
er off my lap I have her gorgeous, naked, heart shaped ass bent over the couch in front of me in less than ten seconds. Standing behind her I tap her ankle with my foot signalling her to spread her legs wider for me. Complying immediately, Priss opens her legs enough for me to line my cock up with the entrance of her dripping wet cunt. My mouth waters when I see that she’s so wet that her cum is coating the insides of her thighs. Before I sink into heaven, I cup her mound adding enough friction to make her rotate her hips against my groin, which spurs me into action.

  This time I don’t take her, I don’t make her mine. I fucking own her. What we’re doing can’t be classified as having sex, and it’s definitely not making love. It’s raw, carnal fucking, and I can’t get enough. Plunging in and out of her I grab a handful of her long hair wrapping it around my fist. Using her hair I pull her almost upright suctioning my mouth to her neck, fighting the urge to bite down by licking my way up to the behind her ear, and tracing her hairline with my nose.