Savage (Bad Boy Romance) (Cocky Bastards & Motorcycles Book 4)

by Faye, Amy

  So she looked out at the stars, tried to count the constellations again. But she couldn't concentrate on it. All she could think about were the sounds of battle behind her, the sound of the battle she knew was deciding her fate at that very moment.

  Why did he have to leave? Consciously, somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew. But the answers she was getting weren't the answers she wanted to hear. She wanted to feel completely validated, completely righteous.

  Instead, she just felt tired and alone.

  "I want to go home now," she said aloud to the night sky.

  A pair of hands wrapped around her waist, picking her up and setting her butt back onto the back of the cart. Gunnar was back.

  There was something in his expression she couldn't read. Like he was thinking about something, unsure how he was going to decide about it. But she didn't have time to worry about that, because he was back.

  "I see you got yourself free."

  "They've been more lax about letting me have my space. Not like I could have gotten away."

  "So this isn't the first time you've done this, then."

  "Not really," she answered vaguely. Why was she so distracted? Why were they wasting time on this conversation, for that matter?

  "I think they're going to be okay, more or less."

  "You weren't seen, were you?"

  "I don't think so," he said softly. "Other than before, but that can't be changed. I had to warn them."

  "O—oh."

  "Other than that, I'm sure that nobody saw me watching. I don't know how it's going to end, though. Could be a close fight, but they've mostly switched to using their bare knuckles, so aside from a few bad wounds they'll just have bad headaches in the morning. They'll need it for what's coming."

  She wondered about that. But it was a distraction. She didn't need to know, because she wasn't going to be in this camp to find out, and neither was he. So it didn't matter one bit, did it?

  "So you'll take me away from here, now?"

  She didn't wait for an answer. In the back of her mind she'd been preparing this since he'd left, since before he'd even arrived, just in case, and now she was going to make her case god damn it.

  "I just—I'm just a woman, a forest witch. Nothing like what's in the stories. I don't do magic, I don't even brew potions. I make herbal teas and use the smoke from burned herbs for some helpful effects. Nothing as extreme as turning someone into a toad.

  "I don't have any magical powers, so I shouldn't even be here. And what's more, I don't even live in Malbeck so I shouldn't have even been there. I should still be living in my little cottage. And I met you so I'm happy I got something out of it, but I just want my simple life back.

  "If I were to go on my own, I'd be dead before morning. I'd be attacked by men on the roads who would see a woman, unprotected and alone, and all I have's one little knife. I could take one, maybe two of them with me, then they'd just hold me down, and—"

  She made a rude motion with her finger and an ironic expression, her breathing coming hard. She had more, but it had been so much less tiring in her head.

  "And I just—I can't get home without you, and I just want to go home. Please take me home. Please?"

  Gunnar's face had sunk through the entire speech, and she knew that she'd upset him, though she hoped it was more than anything because he felt bad. She waited for him to answer, but for a long time he didn't.

  He got up and stretched, then came back and undid the ties that kept her hands together. They were too hard to get off with only one hand, and she absolutely couldn't re-tie them herself. Not even a pretty close facsimile.

  Deirdre rubbed her wrists. They were rubbed raw, and she just wanted to be free of it.

  Then he stopped and stood, his back to her, and he looked up at the stars. She wanted to know what he was thinking, but he was clearly keeping his thoughts to himself. He'd speak when he was ready, she knew that. And untying her had tipped his hand a little bit.

  But that didn't change her impatience and the fact that he could change his mind, any time. She needed to hear it from his lips, needed to go. She needed to be away from here.

  Please, Gunnar, just go with me right now. It doesn't matter how late it is, we can make it a few hours before either of us need to sleep.

  Deirdre took a breath. Focus. Regardless what he says next, you'll have to deal with it, and you'll live, she told herself. Gunnar's back, and that means you've got a player in the game again.

  Gunnar's voice broke through the wall of her thoughts.

  "Yes."

  The emotions that surged through Deirdre shouldn't have surprised her, but they did. She was going to get away. Going to be free. He'd promised it, all that time ago. Weeks. And then that had turned out to be wrong.

  Now here he was again, telling her that he would take her away. She should have been so many other things. Happy, or angry that he hadn't let her go sooner. Or excited. She felt… numb. Tired.

  She could already feel tears welling up in her eyes, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up into a little ball, but she had worked to break herself of that when she was still little. She'd thought that she was done crying after she'd been given to the witch.

  But that hadn't been the end of it. Then she'd cried over so many different things, but she could understand them, at least. So why was she crying now? She got what she wanted, and she just—

  She found herself leaning into Gunnar without realizing that she'd started to, her head pressed into the oddly comforting space between his shoulder and neck, sobs racking her body and tears streaming down her face.

  She needed to get ahold of herself—needed to figure out what to do. Needed to figure the route back home. They needed to get moving. But instead she just stood there and cried. The only thing that broke her out of her reverie was the feeling of Gunnar's arm, wrapping around her.

  She almost didn't realize what she was doing until her lips were already on his. When she pulled away for breath and then pulled him in for a deeper kiss, she had already decided what she was going to do next.

  Gunnar let her kiss him. He wasn't sure what was going on in her mind, but clearly it was upsetting her a lot. Then she kissed him again. This time he kissed her back, the worries of what he was going to do next slowly retreating.

  He replaced them with the feel of her warm body pressed against him, contrasted against the cold of the night. He felt himself stirring in his pants, but he held himself off. She needed whatever she was going to need, but he'd let her take the pace.

  Her lips left his, both of them breathless, and then she pulled his head into the crook of her neck. He planted a firm kiss, letting his teeth scrape lightly across her skin and enjoying the soft mewling sound she made at the sensation.

  He wrapped his arms tighter, pulling her into him, wanting to feel every inch of her pressed up against him. Wanting to explore with his hands. The tiny whispers of doubt and uncertainty kept his hands from cupping her ass and testing its firmness.

  She seemed to be under no such compunction, running her hands across his body and up his shirt, her fingers dancing across his muscles, tracing a light, tickling line. She pinched his nipple softly, sending a spark of mixed pain and pleasure.

  Gunnar bit down on her throat, his teeth digging just enough into her soft flesh to draw out a moan. He wanted her badly. It was pure agony to remind himself that no matter how much he wanted her, he wasn't going to do anything that she didn't push first.

  That said, her roaming hands gave him tacit permission—he let one hand drop, cupping her firm round ass cheek in one large, powerful hand and giving it a squeeze. She didn't pull away, didn't protest, so he had to guess that she didn't mind too much.

  He used his other hand to test the softness of her chest, enjoying the fullness and weight of them in his hand—and then he stopped. Pulled away and tried to catch his breath. The cold night air burned his lungs and brought him back to reality.

  "Are you sure?"<
br />
  His own voice sounded strange to his ears. Hoarse, almost needy. Nothing like the confident man that he usually felt, this was unfamiliar territory with a woman who he had everything but a good reason to do this with.

  She pressed in against him, not answering, her lips tracing the line of his collar bone, and it took every ounce of self control not to take her right then. If she wanted him, then she'd have him—but he wasn't going to let it go this way, at least.

  He needed it to happen right. He pulled her body back in close, pressing her back against the side of the cart, forcing her to feel his hardness and his presence until they overwhelmed her.

  His hands explored the soft curves of her body, the long lines of her legs. They were exposed below the knee, and he broke from the kissing to expose more, his hands tracing the inside of her thigh, teasing dangerously close before backing away.

  Something in his mind snapped. Before he knew what he was doing Gunnar had Deirdre pressed back against the cart. Deirdre's eyes were wide, and for a moment he thought that she might try to stop him, but she didn't push him away and he didn't wait for her to.

  One of his knees pressed forward, separating Deirdre's trembling legs. She rocked forward, her body betraying her arousal in its pursuit of pleasure. A button popped off of her blouse, opening it further from enticingly low-cut to downright scandalous.

  One of Gunnar's powerful hands reached inside, pulling a plump breast free. He took a moment to enjoy the large, bronze nipples before he took one between his lips.

  Deirdre's fingers laced into his long hair, wrapping themselves in tangles and pulling him in closer. She continued to rock her mound up and down his powerfully muscled thigh, shuddering and mewling in the pleasure that both of them hadn't been able to deny wanting since they'd started this.

  He switched to the other nipple, his fingers coming up to pinch and tease the already-hardened nipple that he'd just abandoned. The cold made it pucker and between the feeling of his hot mouth on one breast and the cold air on the other she pressed into him with abandon.

  He took her hand into his and moved it to the hardness at the front of his trousers, moving it for her for a moment before returning his attention to her free breast.

  When he pulled away, Deirdre tried to keep him pressed in, tried to keep the delicious feeling on her breasts, but he wouldn't be distracted.

  With an easy motion he unlaced the belt that held his trousers up. Deirdre's attention automatically fell onto his hardness, standing proud of his body. She took it in her hand, rubbing up and down. Gunnar wasn't going to have any of it.

  "Use your mouth."

  She went down to her knees, his hardness still in her hand. Uncertain. He could feel the tension building, feel the need inside him. Deirdre gave the head an experimental kiss, looking up to Gunnar for guidance. He took her head in his hands and gently guided her, showing what she wanted.

  She could barely take an inch at first, but as she started to take more and more control she found space in her mouth, allowing him deeper and deeper in her throat, each bob of her head seeming to add a little bit more. He could feel release building with each passing moment, his hand tightening on her head, pressing with increasing urgency into her throat.

  With a cry he felt himself shoot once, twice into her waiting mouth. Gunnar struggled to calm his breathing as the need inside him continued to burn. He dropped to the ground beside her, pressing Deirdre onto her back.

  For a moment Deirdre looked down at him quizzically as he dipped his head between her thighs, and then with the first experimental lick her head shot back to the soft earth, and the question was answered.

  His tongue found the hardened bud at the top of her lips, his fingers testing her folds. Slick with arousal, he was able to enter her easily, wiggling his fingers, stretching and exploring her velvety cunt. He enjoyed the way that it seemed to suck onto him, her body trying to get as much pleasure as it could from his ministrations.

  Deirdre writhed above him, her body overcome at the new sensations, trying to grasp for something, anything that would help her to withstand the onslaught of pleasure that racked her body. His tongue lapped up the sweet nectar that moistened the way for him.

  Gunnar felt his hardness stirring, felt himself readying, but he held himself back, continuing to explore the folds of her pussy with his fingers and tongue. Deirdre's body stiffened, her hands finally finding purchase in Gunnar's hair again and pulling his face into her, her legs wrapping around his head.

  The little nub of her clit looked so enticing—he pulled it between his lips and sucked lightly and she let out a howl of pleasure that he had to believe someone must have heard, grinding his face harder into her mound as she rocked herself against him. He let her ride out the pleasure, his fingers continuing to explore her. Preparing her for what was to come.

  As she relaxed, letting him free, he spread her legs. Now it was time. Her hips came up off the ground just a bit, settled onto his thighs and lining him up with her. Gunnar's sensitive cock rubbed up and down her entrance, getting the head slick with her arousal. Deirdre purred out her pleasure when he lined up the head with her opening.

  He started to press into her, slowly at first. Feeling every surface inside her clinging to every line of his cock. Savoring the heat and pleasure. He needed her every bit as much as she needed him. Finally, they were completely joined, his hardness pressed all the way into her to the hilt.

  Her breasts heaved with each deep breath, creating a hypnotic show for the Dane, who waited. His hands were ready at her hips, and after a moment to enjoy the feeling of being completely sheathed inside her he pulled back out, then rocked forward again.

  Another thrust. Harder. Gunnar used her hips as a way to get a grip on her, using the grip as leverage to powerfully thrust into her. She was his, and his alone. With each thrust he tried to carve out the shape of his cock inside her, making her remember his shape.

  The noises she was making didn't matter any more. Let them hear, let them come and see them. It didn't matter. All that mattered was right there, in his arms, moving her hips to meet his. He could feel her tightening down, the makings of a second orgasm starting to clench all of the muscles in her body tight.

  Gunnar picked up his pace, fucking her with abandon as she moved below him.

  "Don't stop," she said. Her voice was low and breathy, as sexual as he'd ever heard a woman. He plowed into her, each thrust meeting them, it seemed, deeper than the last. Gunnar could feel his second release approaching, could feel the pull of need. One of his hands moved to her throat, pressing down. Asserting his dominance.

  She was his, and he would make her his. He pushed inside again. Harder. Stronger. He could see the pleasure written across her face, feel her pushing back against him as he fucked her. Then, with a last hard push, he exploded inside her.

  A moment of deep, harsh breathing, and then he bent down to kiss her. His.

  She was finally his.

  Twenty-Three

  Gunnar rolled to the side of her and they laid together, both breathing hard. The thoughts and anxieties that had been running through her head since nearly the moment that she was called to leave her cozy little cottage were… oddly quiet. It was a comforting sort of silence.

  Even the sounds of fighting had died down, and now everything in the night had settled into a heavy stillness that rested on her like a blanket. Deirdre's entire body tingled with the last stirrings of pleasure, and for a moment she thought she might turn over to have another go at trying to find her place with Gunnar.

  Instead she turned on her side, noticing that her breasts spilled out of the top of her dress, but not especially caring. Watching him was an experience in itself. Sweat slicked his forehead, matting thin strands of hair that fell into his face down.

  His chiseled features were distinctly foreign. Nothing English about them. And yet, Deirdre thought, they seemed somehow perfectly suited. As if she'd been waiting all these years for him, and now
that he'd arrived he was everything that she'd expected.

  The thought that within an hour she'd be far, far away from here only helped to calm her further. She could have fallen asleep if she wanted to, just closed her eyes and let herself drift away. Absolutely perfect.

  She watched Gunnar pull himself up to seated with his powerful abdomen. Before a month ago, she'd never met a man with so many muscles, except perhaps the blacksmith. All she had to recall him was when she'd been eight, and the memory was patchy.

  Even what she did remember, he was nothing like her Gunnar—it threw her to think of him that way. She hadn't asked for him. Hadn't particularly wanted him. And then, over the weeks, something had changed.

  No use thinking like that, she chastised herself. It's only going to get you hurt. Let things happen, and when the dust settles, that's how it will be.

  The way he was looking at her, though, was a little upsetting. Something was wrong. Something that set off every alarm bell in her head.

  "What's wrong?"

  "There's a problem."

  Deirdre had already felt this once before. As if her heart was stopping in her chest. The knowledge that whatever was about to happen, it wasn't going to be what she'd planned on.

  Problem? They were past problem. She'd thought that they had solved what few problems she had left just now. More problems?

  She didn't say that. She was quite proud of how well she managed to keep herself in check, actually, considering how furious she felt.

  "The English know they're coming."

  She held back the desire to answer 'So?' This was something that was important to him. Anyone could tell that. But why did she need to worry about it? What was the point of sneaking around if he was just going to join back up?

  If he wasn't going to join back up, how exactly did he expect to help them deal with this?

  "There's an ambush. Less than two hours' march north. They'll be wiped out."

  Deirdre could see on his face that he was struggling to come out with whatever it was, but her blood was beginning to boil.