Savages Boxed Set

by Gadziala, Jessica

  "I did a job with Lo last year," Breaker said calmly, dropping the name of their leader like it was nothing. When Lo was known on the streets as a "plain old crazy mother fucker"... whatever that meant. "They're not as nuts as they seem. Really well trained mercenaries. Lot of ex military."

  "Regardless. They're creepy. The Mallicks might be loan sharks, but they're pretty normal people."

  "Clearly you've never seen them at work."

  I rolled my eyes. Like a little knee-cap breaking would scare me with all the shit I had seen. "I've never seen you at work either. And you're reasonably normal."

  "I'm... normal?" he asked sounding insulted, turning to me with an oven glove in his hand and I felt myself laughing.

  "Oh, sorry," I drawled, still laughing. "You're truly terrifying standing in your kitchen with an oven mitt and a wooden spoon. I'm shaking."

  "Woman," he said, his voice hard as he reached into the oven, grabbed the broiling pan, then slammed it down on the top of the stove, shutting off the broiler as well as the heat under the potatoes.

  And then he took a step toward the center of the room, reached behind his back, and pulled off his shirt.

  Now there were plenty of words to describe the kind of rippling muscle perfection that greeted me.

  Jacked. Ripped. Built. Drool-worthy. Man candy. Goddamn!

  But the most appropriate seemed to be:

  holy fucking shit.

  "Tee off" he demanded, his voice even deeper than usual. His hands went to the front of his jeans and made short work of the button and zip.

  "I, um, thought you were going to... feed me first," I fumbled, feeling both a surge of desire so strong it was a miracle I hadn't melted into a puddle, and a rush of uncertainty.

  "The food can wait. Get that tee off and get over here," he said, pushing his jeans off his hips. I watched, too shocked to move and do as instructed as he stepped out of the feet and stood there in the middle of his kitchen in a pair of black boxer briefs that did nothing to hide his hard-on.

  My hands reached for the hem of the tee as his moved to push away his last barrier of clothing.

  And, well, yeah, my hands dropped numbly to my sides.

  Because the sight of a man like Breaker naked required every ounce of concentration. And besides, lifting my shirt over my head would block him from sight. Granted, only for a second, but a second was just too long. Because he was like a Greek statue come to life. Every muscle, tendon, vein on full display. There was a raised white scar running three inches down his belly. Another round one near his hip.

  Then, well, there was his cock.

  Was it appropriate to stare? I didn't know. I didn't care. I was staring.

  Because it was perfect. Long and thick and standing at attention.

  And, suddenly, I wanted to wrap my hand around it. I wanted to feel him. I wanted to hear his breathing get ragged. I wanted to show him even half of what he had shown me earlier.

  And, somehow, I was too wrapped up in my little fantasy to notice he had moved.

  As in moved.

  Across the floor and right in front of me.

  I knew this because I felt his big hands grab the bottom of the tee and haul it roughly upward. My arms were forced up and the material was discarded.

  My eyes went up to find his watching my face, a purely masculine satisfied smirk toying at his lips. "See something you like, doll?" he asked, watching as the heat rose in my cheeks.

  So, yeah, there was no way he hadn't seen me ogling his naughty bits.

  "I... uhm..."

  "You like how my cock looks, babe, just wait till you see how it feels buried in that tight pussy of yours."

  Oh lordy.

  Okay.

  Someone needed to tell my lady bits to chill the fuck out.

  I was pretty sure there was like a pre-orgasm fluttering going on.

  He hadn't even touched me yet.

  "You nervous?" he asked, his head tilted to the side, watching me.

  Nervous?

  Yeah. You could say that. Though I was pretty sure there had to be a better word to describe the heady cocktail of nervousness/ excitement/ desire/ and crippling terror that was swirling its way through my system right at that moment.

  "It's... been a while," I hedged. Years. It had been years. And I was pretty sure my prior experience barely counted given that nothing had ever felt like I was feeling right that moment. Hot. Physically heated. Despite being bare ass naked. My skin felt flushed, head to toe. But also hot in another way. Like there was a burning deep in my belly. Like if it didn't get extinguished, it would burn me up. And on top of that, the overwhelming need to feel him. To know what his chest hair would feel like against my breasts. What the hard palms of his hands would feel like stroking up my ribs. What his mouth would feel like pressed into my collarbone.

  Nothing had ever come close to how I was feeling standing with Breaker. And that was terrifying.

  "How long? Months?" he asked, like it was totally normal to have a conversation whilst nude in the middle of his kitchen. Hell, maybe for him it was.

  "Years."

  "Years?" he breathed out, shaking his head. "No fuckin' way. Not with you lookin' like you look. Talkin' how you talk. No fuckin' way."

  "Talking how I talk?" I asked, my face scrunching up.

  "That fuckin' attitude. That temper. Sets a cock at full mast across a crowded room."

  Well. That was news.

  And maybe the nicest compliment I had ever received. In a really pervy kind of way.

  "Well... I haven't made time for dating."

  "Ain't talking about dating. Talking about fucking."

  "Whatever. Same difference. I haven't made time for it."

  "We ain't got nothin' but time," he said, his smile fading a bit, his eyes getting darker.

  "I guess."

  "You guess? You know... you ain't exactly helping my ego here."

  "What am I supposed to be swooning and moaning 'take me, take me'?" I asked, exaggerating the last two words to a porn-star worthy throaty groan.

  His hand slid between us, quickly thrusting his finger inside me, making me let out a for real throaty groan. "Something like that," he said, his smirk coming back as his finger worked in and out of me until my legs felt wobbly and my hands slammed down on his chest to steady myself. "Smart fuckin' mouth," he said, his mouth near my ear as I leaned into him. "And wet fuckin' pussy."

  His finger pulled out of me suddenly and my hand slapped his chest. "No," I groaned, my hips moving against him shamelessly.

  "You want my cock?" he asked, his hand slipping into my hair, pulling it back to look in my eyes.

  Oh, God.

  Yes.

  I did.

  But did he really need me to admit it?

  I felt my head nod, accepting that my pride could take a little beating if it meant the tightening in my core could be relieved.

  "Then why don't you get on your knees and show me how much you want it?"

  Okay.

  There was another of those mini-flutterings between my legs.

  Which, if I was in a right mind to examine, would seem weird to me.

  But as it was... my mind had one thing it wanted. And if getting it meant that I had to get on my knees for him first, well, so be it.

  I sucked my lower lip into my mouth, wetting it, as I slowly lowered myself to the ground.

  Alright. So I had only done this like twice before. And it was awful. As you can imagine. Glenn with his half-flaccid penis led to something that felt a lot like lockjaw before he finally pulled me up and pushed me onto my back.

  There was something about Breaker's hard, thick cock that I found myself excited to explore. With my hands. My mouth.

  So my hand went outward, closing around him and stroking down to the hilt as I leaned forward, lips opening around the head and feeling his velvety hardness slip inside my mouth. My tongue flicked over the head, tasting the beginning of his desire, and I heard his bre
ath hiss out of his mouth. Encouraged, and maybe a bit more than excited, my mouth slid down his length, my hand working him where my lips couldn't, twisting and stroking at the same time until his hand came down, gathering my hair and pulling it backward. He let me work him for another short minute before dragging me back by my hair. I made a sort of objecting sound in my throat that had him chuckling in a deep, rumbling way that made my insides feel fluid.

  "Don't worry. I am gonna let you work that sweet mouth on me again. But right now, doll, I need to fuckin' be inside you. I need to feel your cunt squeezing me as you scream my name. And just when you start to come down, I am going to push you right back up. Over and over. Until you can't scream anymore. Until all you can do is choke for breath and let it slam through you."

  Oh. My. God.

  Okay.

  Yeah.

  I was pretty close to groaning out 'take me, take me' for real.

  I swallowed hard, clenched my thighs together, and attempted a smirk that I was pretty sure came out a bit wobbly. "All talk," I teased, watching as his brows lowered over his eyes, making them look hooded and even sexier than they usually did.

  Then he was using my hair to drag me back onto my feet. The sensation at once painful but so erotic I felt my mouth falling open on a silent moan.

  He tugged my hair hard to the side, leaning close to my ear. "Hands on the counter," he growled, then released me roughly, making me stumble back a foot. When I didn't immediately move to do as told (because I was too stunned and turned on and confused to do anything but stare at him), he took a warning step forward, brow raised. "Do I need to repeat myself?"

  I shook my head, turning, and slapped my hands down on the cool counter.

  "Spread your legs," he said and I could feel his eyes raking over my body from behind. Steeling my stomach against the rolling embarrassment I felt at that instruction, I pushed my feet apart. "Wider," he said and I pushed them wider, leaving my legs wider than hip-width. "Good girl," he murmured, the sound practically a rolling purr off his lips and I felt his approval like a warm blanket.

  I felt rather than heard him moving, the air around him seeming charged as he got closer. His hands moved to span my hips, sinking in my skin in a delicious way that made my head tilt backward and hit his shoulder. But then he was moving. As in down. Like... onto his knees. I had the barest of seconds to feel the mortified objection form in my mind before his tongue slid up my cleft and found my clit, making my entire body jolt, my hands curling into fists on the cold counter.

  Because... holy shit.

  My inner thighs wobbled as his lips closed around the sensitive bud and sucked hard, a strangled groan rushing out of my throat.

  "Oh my God..." I whimpered, arching my ass up, giving him better access.

  But then the contact ended and he was moving to stand. His hand traced down my spine, sending a shiver through my system.

  "Don't move," he said, his voice firm.

  "Where are..." I started to ask, turning to look at him.

  His hand grabbed the back of my head, pushing it to face away from him. "I said don't move," he said again and I nodded.

  Then he was moving. I didn't turn to look. But soon he was in my line of vision, walking across the living room toward his bedroom and giving me a delicious view of his perfect, muscular ass as he did so.

  He walked back out a few seconds later, his head lifting to me, his eyes raking over the view of me bent over the counter. I drank in the view too, from the tops of his wide shoulders to that deep, deep V of his Adonis belt, to his straining cock, to his muscular thighs. He was just... perfect. Every inch. My eyes went to his hand, seeing a silver condom foil, the reason he left me, and I felt a rush of relief.

  Because I had somehow forgotten all the horror stories from my high school sex ed classes and would have probably let him go in raw and risk Lord-knew what.

  Thank goodness one of us was thinking straight.

  He walked up behind me, making quick work of the condom before I felt his hips pushing into my ass so his cock slid between my thighs, making my ass arch up and start to rub against him. His hands slid up my sides, snaking around to my belly, moving upward until his calloused, hard palms covered my breasts that seemed to grow heavy at the contact, my nipples hardening painfully as he started to roll them between his fingers. His chin shifted, the side of his face brushing my hair out of the way before his lips went to the skin of my neck, sucking hard. At that second, his cock slid up and hit the sweet spot, making an unexpected orgasm slam through my system, my breath catching.

  "You say my name when you come," he said against my neck, hands digging into my skin.

  "Breaker," I strangled out, feeling my legs shake as the pulsations started to waver off.

  "Good girl," he murmured.

  One of his hands splayed between my breasts, the other slid down my stomach, brushing over my suddenly too-sensitive clit, and guiding himself. I felt his cock press against the entrance for a long second, long enough for me to genuinely worry about his size, before he thrust forward, in one swift motion burying deep.

  A half-gasp, half-groan escaped my lips because there was pain. Not the sharp stabbing I was expecting, but a hot, burning sensation as he stretched me to my limit. He paused, buried deep, his warm breath near my ear. "Relax," he said, sounding tense. "Don't tense up on me," he went on, his hips rocking against me, not quite thrusting, but pulsing inside me, getting my body used to the sensation.

  I took a deep breath, letting my head fall back on his shoulder, closing my eyes, letting myself work past the discomfort, letting it slide away until a slow building pleasure replaced it. My breathing became more shallow, but faster. My hips started moving by their own mind.

  "Remember what I said about how I fuck?" he asked, sounding strained.

  I wet my lips with my tongue before I answered, my voice coming out breathy. "Hard," I recalled.

  "Hard," he agreed. "Spread your arms out wider," he instructed. "Brace yourself."

  I slid my arms across the surface of the counter, surprised when his hands closed down on top of mine, pinning them in place.

  And then there was no thinking.

  Because his cock was slamming into me.

  Hard, as promised.

  I had expected more of the hot, burning sensation.

  But all I could feel was the building orgasm, the clawing, aching need increasing to a level that was borderline painful in its intensity.

  My hands curled into fists as the moans started tearing out of my throat, loud and frantic. His hands left mine, moving up to my shoulders and grabbing them backward, using them to give him more leverage as he continued his relentless, steady thrusting.

  "That's it," he said. "Feel your pussy squeezing me?" he asked. And he was right. I could feel the tightening, the threatening of oblivion. "Come for me, doll. Let me hear you scream my name."

  His cock buried deep.

  And then I did.

  Hard.

  And loud.

  Screaming out his name at a level that made my own ears hurt as my sex clenched in a rapid succession of pulses. Through it, his thrusts never wavered, never slowed, just kept plowing into me hard and fast so that before the orgasm fully ebbed, it was building again.

  Just like he promised.

  And just like he had predicted, my moans became choked, airy whimpers as my legs started shaking violently, making his hands move from my shoulders and grab me around the waist, pulling me against him to keep me upright. His teeth bit into my earlobe as his fingers moved up to grab my breasts, digging in, as his thrusts became (if it was possible) harder and faster. Demanding my release so he could reach his own.

  His fingers pinched my nipples as his cock slid out. By the time he was halfway buried inside me again, my body exploded into an orgasm that had me seeing white, my mouth opening to scream, but nothing came out.

  "Fuck yeah," he growled as I whispered out his name, my entire body shaking through my
orgasm.

  I felt him tense, slamming deep as his breath growled out of his throat and he came on the last waves of my orgasm.

  TWELVE

  Breaker

  I wanted to go to her. When she was telling me about her mom. I could feel the sorrow of it in her words. The air around her was heavy with it. But along with it was that strange aura of detachment that she always wore. Like she needed to remove herself from the equation. And I wondered for the first time if maybe it wasn't just how she was. If maybe it was a defense mechanism, a way to survive when she was on her own. Maybe it wasn't the real Alex Miller.

  And I found myself wanting to know the real one.

  But I also knew from the strange hollowness of her words and the way she was holding her shoulders that she wouldn't let me in. If I went to her, she would shrink away. So I stayed in the middle of the kitchen and listened. Even though it was killing me a little to not lend her some strength. Or demand some emotional honesty.

  Then she was finally done speaking. I couldn't fight it. I went to her. And I put my arms around her. She melted into it for a minute, letting me hold her, before I felt her stiffen suddenly, and pull away.

  Then she had to go and get mouthy.

  And, well, Alex being mouthy was almost as hot as Alex blushing, or Alex kissing me back like she hadn't ever been kissed before.

  I just couldn't help myself.

  Apparently, neither could she.

  Seeing her bent over my counter, ass up, inviting me in. Yeah, probably the hottest fuckin' thing I had ever seen in my life. Being inside her, listening to her moans, hearing her call my name as her pussy grabbed my cock... yeah it was worth whatever fucked up shit that was sure to be coming both of our ways because of it.

  Her arms went up and around my neck afterward, my arms holding her to me as her breathing settled, her legs got steady enough to hold her without support. I grabbed her tee and handed it back to her and took my clothes and made my way to the bathroom.

  By the time I got back, she already had the steak cut into slices on plates next to big piles of potatoes.