Savage Hearts (Queens & Monsters Book 3)

It’s pissing rain when I get back to the cabin a few hours before dawn.

I stand outside the front door in the dark with my hands braced on either side of the frame and my head hanging down, taking a moment to try to cool off.

Every mile closer I drove, the harder it was not to jam my foot onto the accelerator.

She’s the most powerful magnet, pulling me home.

From the moment I left, I’ve thought of nothing else. Through car rides and plane flights and meetings, while driving an icepick through a man’s skull. Her face was in front of my eyes the whole time. Hovering there. Haunting me.

That’s what I feel like. Haunted.

She’s a ghost who’s moved inside my head and won’t leave.

A sweet, mouthy, maddening little ghost. Who challenges me at every turn and sees the best in me, even when I’m shouting at her that she shouldn’t.

Especially then.

I’ve never met a woman I wanted to strangle, protect, scream at, cherish, fight with, and fuck, all at the same time.

It’s insane.

It’s frustrating.

Worst of all, it’s addicting.

I’m in the grip of a powerful addiction that I can’t shake, no matter what I try. No amount of denial, rage, or bargaining is going to get me out of this.

There’s no rehab for this obsession of mine.

There’s no withdrawal, either.

It’s simply a fact: without my fix of her, I’ll lose my fucking mind.

I draw a breath, pick up the bag from where I dropped it by my feet, and open the door.

Except for the guttering fire, it’s dark inside the cabin. Dark and warm, quiet and still. I stand there for a moment, breathing air scented of her.

Even her scent is arousing.

I’ve heard the natural smell of a woman’s skin described as sweet or floral, or something outdoorsy like sunshine or rain. But Riley smells different. There’s no food, flowers, or candy on earth that could describe it.

I can’t describe it, either, except to say that she smells like home.

And it’s already a disaster. I know it is. The whole thing. Her, me, what we’re doing together. If I didn’t already know, this short time apart from her proved it.

This time, because I’d already tasted her, being away from her drove me mad.

We’re the musicians on the deck of the Titanic, blissfully unaware as we play our violins that there’s a giant fucking iceberg right around the corner.

One of us is unaware, anyway. But she’ll make it onto a lifeboat. I’ll get her onto one, no matter what.

I’ll still be playing that violin when the ship goes down.

What started as revenge has turned into something far more dangerous. Something that will probably end me.

The worst part is, I don’t even care.

She came into my life at the moment when I thought I had nothing left, and filled every dark, empty space with sunshine.

Stupid, bright, horrible sunshine, which I fucking hate.

Except I don’t anymore.

Now all I want to do is lie down naked in the sun and bask in the healing glow of its rays.

Fuck. I can hardly stand to listen to myself. I’m goddamn pathetic.

I walk slowly through the cabin to the bedroom, my steps silent on the floor. Outside the bedroom door, I pause again to gather myself.

It’s so fucking hard not to kick it down and crash inside.

It’s almost impossible.

“Mal?”

My heart. Jesus, my heart. That voice of hers. So soft and sweet. So hopeful.

She’s in there, awake in my bed, waiting for me. She felt me, felt my energy like I can always feel hers. It’s nonsensical that we can feel each other through a closed door, but we do.

God, we fucking do. My chest aches with it.

I turn the knob and push open the door, and there she is.

Sitting up in bed. Covers pulled up to her chin.

Staring at me like I’m her reason for everything.

I drop the bag, cross the room, fall to my knees next to the bed, and pull her into my arms. I bury my face in her neck and groan.

She hugs me back hard, trembling.

We stay like that as the rain grows louder, peppering the windows, drumming a plaintive song against the roof.

“I missed you.”

It’s barely a whisper, but it makes my soul burn.

“I know.”

“Please don’t leave me alone again.”

“I won’t.”

“You’ll take me with you when you need to go to the city?”

“Yes. I can’t stand it, either.”

She burrows against me, trembling harder. “I’m sorry I made you angry.”

I groan again, pulling away to show her with a kiss that she never has to apologize to me, not for anything. She kisses me back with passion, making desperate little noises in the back of her throat.

Then I’m desperate. Desperate with longing. Desperate for her. I know there’s a clock ticking down the days until this thing between us will end, because men like me don’t get the fairy tale.

And women like her deserve a white knight, not a monster.

Not the dragon the knight is sworn to slay.

“What? White knights and dragons? What are you saying?”

Fuck. I’m delirious. I’m talking out loud.

“Nothing,” I murmur, taking her face in my hands. “Only that you’re mine. Don’t ever forget that. No matter what happens, you’re mine.”

She gazes into my eyes with her heart shining through hers, her lips wet with my kisses.

“You’re different,” she whispers. “What’s happened?”

I don’t bother hiding or denying this time. I let it all go and tell her the truth.

“I decided to give in to the addiction.”

“What addiction?”

“You, baby. You.”

She bites her lip. Moisture wells in her eyes.

If I wasn’t already a goner, those emotional, gold-flecked eyes of hers would push me right over the edge.

Same as they’ve been doing since the beginning.

When our lips meet again, it’s with a new urgency. A new understanding drives our need. I push her down against the mattress and kiss her hard, my hands tangled in her hair, her chest pressed to mine. We kiss until it feels like we’ve fallen through a hole in the earth, into darkness and heat, tumbling over and around, losing all sense of direction.

Then she’s tugging at my belt. Yanking down my zipper. A warm, soft hand curls around my hard cock.

I push up her nightgown and suck on a rigid nipple as she strokes my shaft, panting and rolling her hips. When she slides her thumb over the slit in the crown of my cock, I groan into her flesh, shuddering.

“Let me—I want to—”

She’s pushing at my chest, trying to move me. I lift my head and gaze down at her, not understanding what she wants.

Until she wriggles out from under me, slides down, and takes my cock down her throat.

My moan of pleasure is loud and broken.

She flattens her hands on my hips and pushes again. I roll to my back on the mattress and bury my hands in her hair. Kneeling beside me, she opens her throat and takes me in, her head bobbing as she sucks me. She curls both hands around the length of my shaft and licks the crown.

When she slides her tongue along the slit and fondles my balls, I have to force myself not to hold her head still and fuck her mouth like an animal.

“Ah, fuck. Malyutka. Christ. Your mouth.”

Panting, I slide a hand up her thigh and over her ass, squeezing it briefly, then slipping my fingers under her panties from behind.

Her pussy is soaking wet.

I slide two fingers inside her tight, slick heat. She moans around my cock, canting her hips so her ass tilts farther into the air. I find the swollen bud of her clit and stroke it, spreading her wetness all around.

Then I put my fingers in my mouth and suck the sweet taste of her off them.

When I slide my fingers back inside her, she moans again. She sucks faster, her hands working in time with her mouth.

It feels fucking incredible, but I need more than this.

I drag her on top of me so her knees are on either side of my shoulders and her belly is resting against my chest. Then I position my face between her spread thighs, pull aside her panties, and bury my face in her wet pussy.

When I suck on her clit, she jerks. My dick pops out of her mouth. She lets out a long, low moan.

I slap her ass, and she jerks again.

“Suck that cock, baby,” I growl. “Take every inch down your throat.”

She obeys me instantly, fitting her mouth around me and opening wide.

I go back to sucking her clit, flicking my tongue over it and lapping at it greedily. I finger fuck her while I do it, listening to her muffled cries of pleasure grow louder.

When I reach down with my free hand and fondle her breast, she trembles. I pinch a nipple, and she starts to ride my face, wantonly moaning around my cock, rocking her hips against my mouth.

I need to come so bad, and I haven’t even taken off my clothes yet.

My baby goes first, though.

Still with her tight nipple caught between the fingers of one hand, I pull my other fingers out of her slick heat and slide them up between her ass cheeks. Then I shove my tongue inside her pussy at the same time as I breach the tight little knot of muscle in her ass.

I sink my finger in past the knuckle.

She sobs around my cock.

Then she comes, bucking against my face as I tongue fuck her pussy and finger fuck her ass.

She moans and shudders and makes desperate noises, all with my hard cock still down her throat.

By the time her shuddering eases and I feel her body relax, I’m seconds away from coming in her mouth. I pull her head back by her hair.

“Easy, baby. Not yet.”

I can barely get the words out, I’m panting so hard.

I roll her to her back. Sitting up, I get her out of her nightgown and panties, then tear off my clothes. All of it gets thrown to the floor impatiently.

I take her in my arms again and take us back down to the mattress, positioning myself between her legs.

Lying on her back, she looks up at me with melting eyes and a sweet, soft smile that nearly breaks me in two.

As I slide inside her, she breathes, “Hi there.”

“Hi there, yourself.”

“That was very dirty.”

“You loved it.”

“I did,” she agrees, nodding. Then, softer, “I love everything we do together.”

She wraps her legs around my back and her arms around my shoulders and kisses me.

It’s like falling off a cliff all over again.

All the adrenaline, all the dizziness, all the tumbling down into lakes of burning flame. I thrust into her silken wet heat, loving the way her breasts bounce against my chest, swallowing her small cries of pleasure as she feeds them to me.

When she breaks the kiss and I look down at her, my breath catches.

Time slows to a crawl.

I feel every throb of my heart, every bead of sweat on my skin, every hot pulse of blood coursing through my veins. I’m aware of the ache in my chest, the smell of her hair, the sounds our bodies make as they move together.

The room has shrunk to the space of us, only us on this bed.

The power we’re generating is enough to light the whole world on fire.

This is why some men don’t like missionary.

It’s too intense. Too vulnerable. Too intimate, all the emotion and energy getting exchanged right up close.

Watching her face go through a dozen different expressions at once is overwhelming.

It’s overwhelming for her, too. She stares right back at me, gazing deeply into my eyes as our bodies move together. As we share all those things that can’t be put into words.

Those sacred things that can only be spoken by two hearts beating in tune.

The silent, holy language that souls speak.

Eyelids fluttering, she whispers my name. Then she arches and moans.

Hard, rhythmic contractions milk the length of my cock.

She comes with her eyes closed and her head thrown back as I watch her, thrusting deep, feeling her pussy throb and her taut nipples slide back and forth across my chest.

With a sudden, violent jerk, I’m over the edge, too.

I drop my head to her shoulder, close my eyes, and shudder as my climax slams hard into me.

It’s so intense, I lose my breath. I can’t make a sound. I just ride it out, pulsing deep inside her as she rocks her hips, her thighs quivering around my waist.

The loud, rumbling bass of thunder masks the moan of despair that slips past my lips.

Even as we come together in the windswept dark and hold each other, trembling, I hear a clock ticking in the background.

Maybe she was right when she said I’m not really bad.

If I were, I wouldn’t care that I’m being selfish by keeping her here, chained up in the dragon’s lair.

If it weren’t for that damn white knight, I’d keep her chained to me forever.