I walk back out to the living room and lift Quinn into my arms. She rouses before she snuggles into my chest and wraps her arms around my neck. I lay her down against the ivory sheets and peel the leggings from her body. I go for her knickers next, and she lifts her ass to assist me. I kiss my way up her milky thighs, sliding my hands up her sides, dragging her sweater up with them. I love taking her like this. Sleepy and vulnerable and free to do with what I please. At only three months postpartum, she looks amazing. She has one tiny stretchmark next to the scar her father left on her stomach. A reminder of life and death. Our rebirth. I kiss them both and lick my way up between her breasts.
“Mmmm,” Quinn moans.
“Tell me how you want it tonight, baby,” I whisper into her ear. We abstained from the rough stuff when she was pregnant for obvious reasons, but now we like to mix it up. I haven’t lost control again. Sometimes just the weight of my hand around her neck is enough for us. Tonight, though, I just want to feel her.
“Just you,” she whispers back, reaching for my belt. I quickly ditch my pants and shirt and position myself at her entrance. I slide into her warmth while her legs wrap around me, pulling me into her, and her nails claw my back.
I bring her arms up above her head and hold them with one hand. I bring my other hand down to play with her little clit. Her movements grow more frantic, and I know she’s already close.
I sit back and lift her onto my lap, facing me. Jesus, I feel so deep inside her this way. Quinn buries her hands in my hair and rocks her hips.
“That’s it. Ride me, sweetheart,” I growl. I can’t hold it much longer. I slide my hands around to her ass cheeks and move her faster, harder. I can feel her need pooling between us. The sound of it fills the room. So goddamn wet.
Keeping one palm on her ass, I grasp the hair at the nape of her neck with the other. I tug backward so we’re eye to eye.
“Marry me,” I blurt out. I don’t even make a conscious decision to ask. It just comes out.
I feel Quinn tighten around me, and she rocks harder against me as she cries out. Her orgasm milks the cum right out of me, and I bury my head in the crook of her neck.
“Is that a yes?” I ask, breathless.
“That’s a hell yes.” She laughs, her smile bright enough to blind the sun.
I didn’t get down on one knee—hell, I don’t even have a ring. But this right here? This is us. This is all we need. Forever.
The End.
First of all, thank you to our husbands who picked up the slack while we basically just watched a ton of porn. You know, for “research”.
Thank you to Melissa Jones who beta read last minute and always supports us in everything we do. We love you, ya two-balled bitch.
Thank you to Bex! You’re a beta reading, teaser-making, group-running, cheerleading badass! You’re so talented and we are lucky to have you as our friend. We love you.
To Kelly, Carter’s girl, this one is for YOU, boo. Thank you for always encouraging us when we think we suck. We hope you love your man.
Sissy, thank you for hounding us via text/IG/FB to get our shit together and write this damn book, hahaha. Sin is coming! I mean…someday, anyway.
Our IG squad AKA our ride or dies AKA the dirtiest bitches on the planet- THANK YOU. You have no idea how much we appreciate you.
Thank you to our editor Paige, our formatter Stacy, and Ena from Enticing Journey for being so flexible and accommodating with our slacking asses.
Fuck you to BB Easton for not sending us Skin.
Mary Elizbeth, we have so much love for you, it’s not even funny. Thank you for always being there and supporting us from the very beginning. You’re our favorite.
Thank you to K. Webster who makes fabulous covers in five seconds. You’re one of the most genuine (and scary) people we know. Love you!
Shout out to the girls in our Facebook group, Charleigh’s Angels! Thank you for always wanting more. We love you guys!
Finally, thank you to every reader/blogger who took a chance on us, who reviewed, made teasers, shared posts, etc. Your support blows us away. We have lots of NEW characters coming for you guys! Stay tuned.
Stepdaddy Savage
Copyright © 2016 by Charleigh Savage
Cover Design: Charleigh Rose
Editing: Barbara Shane Hoover
Formatting: Champagne Formats
All right reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and places are a product of the author(s) imagination or, if an actual place, are used fictitiously and any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Dedicated to Julie
Stepdaddy Savage is a smutty, taboo novella featuring an over-the-top alpha male.
You do not say no to Graham Savage, because he doesn’t ask. Just like his name suggests, he takes, and right now, he believes I’m his.
He is a cold, calculated, ruthless, formidable Irish mobster, and… my step-dad.
Regardless of the fact that it’s nothing more than a business transaction, he’s technically married to my mom. Even still, I find myself scared to be caught, yet even more terrified of being cut loose.
They say love is like a butterfly…well, we are about to prove to the world that it’s also like a punch in the face. Sometimes inevitable…and always painful.
“My Boo”—Ghost Town
“West Coast”—Lana Del Rey
“Sweet Child O’ Mine”—Guns N’ Roses
“Hype”—Dizzee Rascal & Calvin Harris
“Straylight Run”—Existentialism on Prom Night
“I fucking love New York!” Jade whisper-shouts when we slip past the two burly bouncers of Hot N’ Bothered.
We race into the club on our heels—I stole a pair of Louboutins from mommy dearest, and Jade has her sister’s pair of Pradas on—brushing past sweaty shoulders, loud drunks and couples grinding against one another.
The place is dark and heavy with the sweet smell of sex, hormones and one-thousand different perfumes. The lights are dim, bluish and seductive. Everything feels right. I have a good feeling about tonight. Something feels different; it’s in the air, it’s in my bones, it’s everywhere.
“My Boo” by Ghost Town DJ’s is blasting from every corner of the room, filling my ears and making me sway my ass from side to side. Tacky as hell but it’s a perfect tune to be dancing to when you wanna rub yourself against the length of a handsome stranger.
Jade and I grin at each other knowingly before walking toward the bar at the center of the room, our heels clack-clacking on the sticky surface. I scan the dancefloor around me. We’re on the first floor, which is packed with dancers and a crowd of R&B enthusiasts in baggy clothes and hipsters who think it’s super-cool to be seen in a joint like this.
There’s a second floor upstairs, but I suspect it’s reserved as a VIP area, because there are two bouncers standing next to the stairs leading up to it. Couples are leaning against the bannisters on the second floor, heavily making out, drinks in their hands and smiles on their faces. I look back down. We don’t need to go to the VIP section to have fun. We have each other, and that’s enough.
“I still can’t believe we didn’t get carded.” Jade is breathless as she fixes her teeny-tiny red mini-dress, rolling it down her thighs while balancing on those heels. She looks amazing with her smooth tan skin and big gray eyes, and I have to admit, being the head cheerleader for our football team may come with a price, it’s definitely taking a toll on her social life, but her body’s banging so it’s totally worth the bullshit high school politics she has to put up with.
“Security is loose here.” I flip my hair to one side and roll my own mini-skirt down. It’s all black lace and barel
y covers my ass, and the worst part is that it’s not even mine. I stole it from my mom’s closet. She’ll never notice, though. She’s drunk and high as a kite 99 percent of the time. When she’s sober, she usually spends those precious moments with our pool boy, Julio, so I’m in the clear.
“How did you know?” Jade asks, parking her ass on one of the black barstools. I follow and plop next to her, grinning.
“The place belongs to stepdaddy dearest, and NYPD is on his payroll.” I gift her with a naughty smirk, wiggling my plucked eyebrows.
Yup, and Graham is flexible when it comes to girls who are slightly underage. I’m not talking completely and utterly disgusting, he always makes sure that they’re eighteen or above, but he’s known for letting his loaded friends waltz through these doors with younger arm candy. Old enough to play around with their sugar daddies, but not to order skinny margaritas from the bar.
“Your step-dad is such a badass.” Jade sighs, stars in her eyes.
“He is not really my step-dad,” I groan, wrinkling my nose. “He’s just a man my mom married for money.”
Yeah. And he married her for the Green Card.
See, Graham is Irish, thirty-two—fifteen years younger than mom—and shady as fuck. He is wealthy, very much so, but no amount of money in the world is going to make the fact that he’s already been arrested twice in the States go away. That means he is not qualified for a business visa, which is why three years ago, he dragged my mom from the strip club she’s been working in—his strip club, by the way—and offered her the deal of her life. They’ve never touched each other, Graham and mom. I know that for a fact because it wasn’t for lack of trying on Annabelle Savage’s part. But Graham looks like the kind of dude who has standards, unfortunately for my mom.
“Whatever he is, if I had the chance, I’d screw your step-dad so hard, I wouldn’t be able to walk the next day. Sorry, honey, I know it sounds sick, but….” Jade gives a little shrug, and I roll my eyes, snatching the alcohol menu from under an elbow that belongs to a random guy who has his back to me.
He turns around when he notices, studying me intently.
“Sorry.” I flush red under the heavy layer of makeup I had applied earlier tonight. “I thought you were done with the menu.”
“I am.” He flashes a crooked smile. He is not ugly, but he is totally pushing forty. And not in the same way Graham does. This dude looks…tired. “Let me buy you that drink, princess.”
Princess?
“Oh!” I lean back, letting out a frustrated breath. I’m not above considering a one-night stand, but this guy doesn’t look like he’s worth the self-loathing that comes with feeling like a slut for losing my V-card to some random the next morning. I don’t want to use him or lead him on, so I smile politely. “That’s okay, we’re good.”
“I didn’t realize you have company.” His bland brown eyes move to Jade, undressing her down to her lacey little thong. “Let me buy both of your drinks. I’m George.”
I open my mouth with every intention to turn him down again, but Jade interjects quickly. “I’ll have a gin and tonic and she’ll have a Blue Moon.”
I flash Jade a “nice going, bitch” glare, because I don’t want the guy to turn around and strike up small talk with us—which is exactly what he’s doing, by the way—but it’s too late. We’re in their debt and now we have to mingle. The guy’s friend, another man who looks to be in his forties, with a leather jacket and oily hair, pushes himself between Jade and I and introduces himself as Marco. They tell us—well, more like shout over the loud music—they’re Italians from Jersey. Awesome. We went all the way from preppy Princeton to Williamsburg to bump into Jersey boys. Ha ha, fate. Nice one. I turn my head back to the bar, exasperated, and when my gaze lands on the second floor, I freeze.
Shit.
It’s him.
Graham was not supposed to be here tonight. Even worse, he wasn’t supposed to see me.
It’s Saturday and we’re in Williamsburg. He usually takes care of his high profile, Manhattan joints on Saturday nights. Sometimes he doesn’t even come back home the next day. But he’s here now, leaning against the bannisters in his sharp, tailored suit, his eyes burning holes into my forehead. He doesn’t look pissed, because Graham is incapable of feelings, I suspect, but I know that he’s not happy to see me here. I’m not twenty-one yet, and I sneaked out of the house and all the way to New York to party…and I have a Blue Moon in my hand.
Shit, shit, shit. Did I mention shit?
I grab Jade’s wrist, my eyes still locked in a stare-down with my step-dad. Suddenly, it feels like he really is my step-dad. He oozes authority, and not just because of his money and position. There’s something formidable about a man who is six-two of power in an Armani suit, and the fact that he is good-looking only highlights his authority over everyone around him. He isn’t a pretty boy, but he is hot in an Irish, rough and dark way. With raven black hair, dark green eyes and stubble peppering his high cheekbones. His lips are thin and pink and I know that behind that suit is a man with a body to die for. His personal trainer wakes me up every day at 6 a.m. sharp when he yells at him to punch that bag harder in our indoor gym.
“We need to go,” I croak, my throat desert-dry. Oh God, he keeps staring at me, but he hasn’t moved an inch. I think I saw his flexed jaw ticking once when I reached for the Blue Moon, but who can tell? It’s dark and everyone is covered in a cloud of cigarette and weed smoke. There’s a veil of white mist between us, and I’m hoping it’d help me escape this place easily.
“Are you kidding me? We just got here!” Jade is already flirting with the guys who bought us drinks, swiveling her seat back and forth.
I turn her stool around so she faces me, my eyes finally disconnecting from Graham’s.
“My dad is here,” I growl.
“Your dad? Owen? Isn’t he in jail?” she asks dumbly.
Christ.
“My step-dad,” I clarify, cocking my head upwards, my eyebrows arched.
Her eyes travel up and I don’t need to ask if she saw him, because the minute she does, she exhales loudly like he’d just shoved two fingers into her. I swear she moans a little when she sees him.
I know it’s ridiculous, to run away when I’d clearly been caught sneaking into a club on a Saturday night. I’m a couple weeks shy of turning eighteen, and Graham knows it. We don’t exactly talk too much but he is scary as hell. I don’t wanna know what he’d do when it comes to me. He might be forgiving toward other women who sneak in here before they turn twenty-one, but me…I’m his family. Sort of.
After a round of quick apologies to the guidos we bumped into, Jade and I are running for the door, hand in hand. I just want to get out of this place. Once out, I’ll get the first taxi back to New Jersey. When, not if, Graham confronts me, I’ll just deny everything. I’m not the first blonde-haired blue-eyed girl who walked into his club in a slutty black number. And it was dark and so freaking loud, there’s no way he recognized me.
Maybe he locked eyes with me because he wanted to tap that.
No. Oh my God, Dahlia, what the hell are you thinking about? Filters! Use them!
We’re just a few steps shy from the door. I can already feel the cool New York night hitting the flushed skin on my face. The air is cold and crisp, waiting for me to cool down from my brief encounter with Graham.
I march straight between the bouncers who’d just let us in…and feel a strong hand grabbing me by the waist. It twists me around effortlessly, and my breath is stuck in my throat. I ball my fists up immediately, thinking it might be the creepy dudes from the bar.
It’s not. It’s my step-dad, and he is looking like my worst nightmare, ready to explode.
He scrunches his devilish brows and his jaw tenses. Shit, his suit. His scent. For the millionth time since my mom and I moved in with him, I’m forced to see how hot he is up-close. I always try to ignore it, but it’s hard when he is so tall, so broad and fucking scary. And it’s becomin
g harder every day since I turned sixteen and started noticing men in general.
I wonder if he has a girlfriend? Probably not a good time to think about that, though, Dahl.
“Dahlia,” he says simply, but his voice sends shivers down my spine. His tone is so gruff and rough, so dry, I feel like he touches me when he speaks to me. That’s why I always make sure we exchange very few words when he’s around.
I clear my throat and look around.
“I was just leaving,” I state, avoiding eye contact. God, I’m such a pussy. A stupid one at that. Why was I so, so sure he wouldn’t be in Williamsburg? It’s not that far from Manhattan.
“You were? Without even saying hello? I’m fucking hurt.” He gives me a once-over, and he’s not being subtle about it, either. Almost like he wants me to know he disapproves of my outfit. His words are light but their meaning isn’t. He is being sarcastic, and my stomach coils with nerves.
Also, I forget to mention that my step-dad swears. A-fucking-lot. Shame he’s still the responsible one out of my two parents.
“I-I’m sorry,” I stutter, looking down. Jade, next to me, just stares at him like he just landed from another planet, and still hasn’t stripped out of his silver UFO coverall. Graham shakes his head and moves his index finger down my cheek in a way that’s not fatherly but not erotic either. It’s just plain intimidating. I shiver under his touch and close my eyes, inhaling deeply.
When he leans closer, my mouth falls open.
“To my office, kiddo,” he murmurs into my face.
Jade and I exchange terrified looks before I follow him silently as he leads the way. Jade takes a few steps in our direction, but he turns around swiftly, placing one hand on her shoulder. She literally jerks in surprise and I can’t blame her. Not only is he scary, but his hand feels like steel. He once gave me an impersonal hug on my 17th birthday and it felt a lot like he did something entirely different to me. I had to take care of that side effect in my personal bathroom. Twice.
Savage Savior (Savage People Book 3) Page 10