Saving Savannah (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Saving Savannah

  In a flash, Savannah logged on and was able to pull up Eric’s private email account. Really, people were so predictable with their passwords: A nickname, a birth date, a favorite pet or even a favored sports team. Knowing his love for hockey, she typed in REDWINGS and was instantly granted access. Like taking candy from a baby, she smiled smugly.

  Or gaining admittance to a coded account from a spoiled rotten, immature, pampered murderer. That tripped up her thoughts.

  And smothered her smile.

  Using one of her trusty thumb drives, she downloaded a copy of every single email on the personal account. Old, new, spam, she took them all. Then she did the same with his secondary account for business contacts, work-related correspondence. Later, she’d take her sweet time sorting through the details.

  “Got it. Let’s go.”

  “Wait,” Trevor whispered. “Can you do the same for the mayor’s accounts?”

  She hesitated. She could have argued, stated excuses, but in the end, she decided proving that it was a pointless waste of time would speak to Trevor more loudly than any of her protests. “Sure.”

  His office was only a few feet away, nothing needed to access the door. The computer, however, was a slightly different story. He’d been a little more inventive with his password than Eric, but Savannah was dogged in her efforts.

  Tasks completed, she turned to Trevor. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah,” he leaned down and captured her lips for a demanding kiss. “This chair looks pretty comfortable.” Large, padded leather, reclining. “According to my calculations.” He glanced down at the huge silver Omega on his wrist. “We have at least forty-five minutes ‘til the guard makes another sweep. ‘Course, you are a noisy little minx. He’d probably hear you, and then—”

  “Fiend!” She seethed under her breath. Her pulse raced from the glory of the challenge he’d tossed out.

  Nothing would make her happier than proving he was just as loud and enraptured as she during sex, just as out of control.

  Shoving up from the chair, she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled his mouth to hers. She gave as good as she got, all but devouring him with lips and teeth and tongue. Then she pivoted as he followed, sliding her hands up to splay over the center of his chest, and gave him one solid shove.

  The chair easily caught his fall.

  “Wish I had on a skirt,” she mumbled.

  His shoulders shook from the silent chuckle as he whispered, “Oh, yeah, some sexy, slinky little black number for classy B and Es. My elegant Georgia peach.”

  There was the swoosh of air, as he adjusted the desk chair, raising it to accommodate his long legs, longer, leaner than the mayor’s.

  Smiling, she slithered out of her black slacks then pulled off her sweater, tossing it aside. While he watched, sober and silent, she shimmied out of the black thong she’d worn to fulfill her own requirements for the evening’s dress code. His muffled oath was all the praise she needed.

  Even in the shadows of the dark room, she could see those amber flecks in his eyes that meant he was aroused.

  The way the crotch of his pants tented was only a secondary warning system for what she’d already deduced. Coming to him, she stood between his legs as she unhooked her bra, let it fall. Let her breasts drop into his waiting palms.

  * * * *

  “Oh, baby. Perfect,” he murmured, burying his face between them. Easing back, he tugged on the nipples, one by one, watching the ripe, luscious melons bounce and the rosy centers turn to pebbled gems. Cupping the globes of her shapely ass, he pulled her into his lap so that she was straddling him and resumed his calculated torture.

  Her head fell back in response, signaling a small victory to his cause. The scent of her arousal spiked his own.

  “Trevor,” she breathed his name on a sigh. Her lips brushed his temple. “Inside me. I need you.”

  Shifting, she helped him free his throbbing cock from his pants and his briefs. Then she perched over him, taking her sweet time taking him deep inside her while she gripped his shoulders. When they were almost completely fused, he thrust upward, sharply. She bit the lower swell of her lip, Trevor guessed, to stave off crying out over the sensation of his length slamming home. He felt the engorged head of his cock hit the deepest recesses of her womb and let out a shuddering sigh.

  “Look at me, Savannah,” he insisted, hoarsely. Tossing her clip to the desk, he gathered her hair in his hands, holding her head and her eyes as captivated as the rest of her body. “I love you. If I have to say it a million times for you to believe it, I will.”

  She shook her head and brought her lips to his. “I believe you, Trevor. That’s only part of what scares me.” Seductively, her shapely hips began to move, sliding up and down over his length, rocking together as he thrusted to meet her demands.

  “The other part?” he managed to ask before he lost all capability for coherent thought.

  She spoke in snatches of whispered breath and whimpers while her sheath began to tighten around him. “I, ah, oh, God. Trevor. I love you, too.”

  Then in a final fury of moves that had her hips pistoning over his, she came. Her scream was smothered, sucked up by his mouth as it was fused to hers.

  He was smiling as she floated back down to earth, down to facing him again. Her eyes glistened like sparkling emeralds in the shadows of the room. “I love you, Trevor,” she whispered again. “The rest—”

  “Shh, sweetheart. We’ll work it out. All that matters is that you love me.”

  Shaking her head she insisted, “Crazy as it seems, I do. More than words, Trevor.” She eased off his lap, pulling his still erect cock from her dripping, hot pussy, and dropped to her knees. Looking up at him, she smiled and made certain he was watching her every move.

  Mesmerized, of course he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. All that spun gold waving about her beautiful face, her naked shoulders and breasts he could still make out in the shadows. Taking his cock in hand, she whispered her plans to the dark and the man she’d finally admitted to loving.

  “I’m gonna lick this huge, soft tip,” Savannah announced, her smoky, secretive voice as tantalizing as her clever hand. “Then I’m gonna suck it.”

  “Fuck,” Trevor murmured as her hot little tongue swirled over the tip. She moaned as if the taste of him rivaled the most decadent chocolate. “Incredible. Jesus, Georgia, I love that mouth.”

  She took his cock in her mouth, sucking him all the way down, before letting him go and doing it again. His hips, his stiff cock jerked frantically under her amazing TLC. “Does that feel good, Trevor?”

  His hands fisted in her silky hair. “Fuck, yeah. Savannah, baby, I’m so close,” he warned, trying to be noble.

  Instead of letting him go, she increased the amazing suction, giving him no choice but to, literally, shoot over the edge. Her nails dug into his thighs as his cock jerked and pulsed, emptying his seed straight down her throat. She sucked him dry and then looked up at him again as she ran her oh-so-talented tongue around the rim of her glistening lips.

  “Mmm. You taste so good.”

  “Not as good as you,” he returned, pulling her up to claim those beckoning lips in a fiery kiss that left her breathless and left him growing hard, again. “Let’s take this clandestine operation home.”

  Home.

  Smiling, sated for the time being, they dressed, and Trevor followed, happily, while Savannah led the way.

  * * * *

  The next morning, Savannah breezed into the mayor’s office, her hands laden with his preferred tray, the instant he let rip a string of shocking, uncharacteristic curses. She held her breath when she realized what had caused the unusual outburst. His knees had knocked wood when he’d tried to settle in at his desk. Mentally, of course, she cursed her lack of forethought. She and Trevor had been too wrapped up in the heady experience of their naughty sexual encounter, in trying not to get caught by the security guard, that neither had remembered to reset the chair.
>
  “Damn cleaning crew,” he muttered while tinkering with the lever.

  She let out a heavy, silent, relieved breath as he finally got comfortable and sent her a sheepishly apologetic grin. The phone rang, startling back to life the nerves that had only just begun to feel smooth. By some miracle, she set aside the tray without incident and grabbed the receiver, rerouting the call so she could answer it at his desk.

  “Mayor Rothschild’s office.”

  While she nodded, listening to the caller, she caught sight of her hair clip, lying near the paperweight next to the mayor’s appointment book and had to remind herself to breathe. Too many more of these near screw-ups and she might end up tossing her toast.

  “Yes, sir.” She somehow managed to keep her voice pleasantly accommodating though her heart was in her throat. “I’ll see if he’s available.” Putting the caller on hold, she informed the mayor, “It’s your lawyer. He said you’d asked him to call you when the documents you requested were ready for your signature.”

  “Oh, yes, thank you. I’ll take it.”

  She gave him the line and made a production of pouring his coffee. Thankfully, the distraction worked, and she palmed the clip with the practiced sleight of hand of a career thief. Slipping it into the hip pocket of her slacks, she strolled back out—please, God, she hoped—without Rothschild ever having noticed what she’d been up to.

  Once on the other side of his closed door, Savannah fought the urge to collapse against it. Grateful, she took a deep breath and went back to her desk. How could she be so careless? How many more of these slip-ups could she survive unscathed?

  Minutes later, the mayor used the phone’s intercom system to buzz her. “Yes, sir?”

  “Could you order up a couple of sandwiches from the deli on Fourth? Stuart’s going to run by with those documents during lunch.”

  “Certainly, sir. I’ll see to it right away.”

  From the Rolodex on her desk, she found the number and made the order. “I’d like it delivered by eleven forty-five. No later.” She had scheduled an emergency lunch-hour meeting with Amy, via their cell phones, and she had too much news to share to waste even a second of the time.

  There was the whole whirlwind affair with Trevor and the fact that she still had to give him an answer on his life-altering proposal. She’d packed a bag without reserve and spent another glorious night in his arms, in his home, his bed. The place he wanted her to stay for the rest of their lives.

  Home, he kept insisting. Their home, if only she’d accept his offer.

  So much to think about, she mused.

  Just thinking about him now brought up the fact that she needed to run by her apartment after work. Calling Trevor’s cell, she could literally hear the smile in his voice. “Hey, baby.”

  “Hey to you, handsome. I was thinking I’d cook for you tonight at my place. There are some clothes and things I want to grab for the weekend.”

  “Sure. I can be there by six.”

  “Oh, God, Trevor, you wouldn’t believe!” Her voice dropped to a theatrical whisper. “Neither of us thought to readjust the mayor’s chair. He came in and banged his knees. And I left my hairclip on the desk. God, my heart was racing out of my chest! But I snagged it before he saw it, or at least if he did, he didn’t say anything.”

  “Fuck. That was close.”

  “Tell me about it.” She rubbed her temple. “We have to go through the rest of those emails tonight.”

  “Okay, okay. I promise to try and keep my hands to myself for a couple of hours.”

  She laughed. “Maybe I should cuff you to the bed.”

  “Ah, damn. Now how am I supposed to face Audie and the ballistics expert with a fuckin’ hard on?”

  “Poor baby. If I were there, I’d suck—damn it! Sorry, Trevor, I have to go. Eric’s on his way in.”

  He groaned. “I’ll see you tonight. Love you, baby.”

  “Love you, too.” She flipped her cell shut and dropped it back into her purse just as Eric strolled by. “You’re back early.”

  With a wink, he quipped, “When you win the first two sets, the third becomes superfluous.”

  Tennis with yet another spoiled member of the country club. Must be nice to have so much free time, Savannah mused. “If you’re thinking of lunching with your father, he already had me order in. He has an appointment.”

  “Shit,” he murmured, waving a hand through the air dismissively. “I’ll give Jennifer a call and see if she’s free.”

  “If it isn’t too much of a bother, could you look over those papers I put on your desk?” Watch the snippy tone, she mentally warned. “They need your signature, and I need to get them faxed over to Mr. Ludlow’s office before four.”

  His acknowledgement was a terse nod before he turned his attention and all his boyish charm on the woman who answered his call. Savannah made a point of tuning out the sickening exchange.

  Promptly at eleven forty-five, the lunch delivery was made, and Savannah paid the boy from a petty cash box in her drawer, adding a generous tip. Then she personally deposited the bags on the mayor’s desk. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be back by one.”

  “No. Thank you, dear. You run along.”

  She needed no further encouragement.

  * * * *

  When the phone rang at precisely 12:03, Peter Rothschild rather absently snatched up the extension. He would have let it go to voicemail, but he was afraid it might be his lawyer who was, at the moment, precisely three minutes late.

  For a meeting with a man that billed by the hour, Rothschild was decidedly keeping up with every blessed second.

  “Rothschild.”

  “Could I speak with Miss Beaumont, please?”

  “I’m afraid you’ve just missed her.”

  “Oh dear,” the woman replied, sounding noticeably troubled. “Miss Beaumont seemed most eager for any information. When do you suppose I could catch her?”

  “She’s just gone to lunch. If it’s important, I’d be happy to take a message.”

  “Oh, thank you, sir. If you could just let her know I had a hit on the brooch, the Celtic knot. She seemed so sweet and so worried about her fiancé finding out she’d lost it. It just about broke my heart.”

  Fear slithered in. Celtic—the brooch. Shit! How? Her fiancé? Miss Beaumont had been a busy little liar.

  He lied as well, playing along. “Yes, she’s been very upset.”

  “Exactly. Anyway, I called another jeweler, a friend of mine, and he remembers the piece being commissioned. He’s going to look through his files and see if the original slip can be located. His drawing would be there, you see. Then he can duplicate the piece for her. Of course, she mentioned that money is no object, but he’ll want to get a deposit, I’m certain.”

  The original slip. No, no that would never do!

  Then the man might recall his face as well as the design. He’d been so careful, using and alias, disguising his face, but if she were as persistent as she seemed, Savannah might be able to pick apart the man’s description and put it together.

  Shit!

  “I’ll be sure to tell her you called.” He then made the pretense of taking the woman’s name and number, assuring her again that he’d personally see to it Miss Beaumont was given the message. “Yes, you have a nice day,” he returned before ending the call.

  Then to the quiet room, he murmured rather sadly, “Ah, Savannah, dear. What have you done?”

  Chapter 8

  Trevor arrived at Savannah’s apartment just after six. Surprisingly, they made it through dinner, a second glass of wine, and tidying the kitchen before he grabbed her up and playfully eyed the gleaming, Formica counters.

  The cotton capris and T-shirt she’d changed into after work were swept away so quickly her head was spinning when he lifted her up and placed her bottom down on the hard surface. Like fire and ice, the contrasting heat of her aroused body and the cool countertop, she wouldn’t have been surprised to see steam r
ise around her.

  His greedy, wonderful mouth was everywhere at once, as were his skillful hands, nipping, caressing, feasting on her dampening flesh, until he settled his dark head between her thighs.

  Oh so swiftly, his wonderful tongue brought her to a shuddering release. Her heels slammed against the solid wood of the cabinets as she cried out and her body bucked. Then before she could catch her breath, he moved up her quivering body and was claiming her mouth. She held onto the strong line of his shoulders as his hand shot between their bodies and took her up a second time. The wild thrust of his thick fingers was in tandem with the passionate mating of their tongues.

  Trembling from the tide of ecstasy relentlessly waving through her body, she shamelessly demanded he end the sweet torture.

  “All of you, Trevor. Now!”

  * * * *

  With her lithe, lush body pressed to his, with her elegant, slender limbs vining around him so as to keep him close—like he would have left her for even a blink of a second—he finally slammed his throbbing, rock-hard cock to the hilt inside her ultra-wet heat. She let out a scream the instant they joined, and he felt her pussy convulse tightly around him. Damn, but being inside her was too incredible for words.

  He battered on through the climax, thrusting deep even as she peaked and ebbed through another so that she was weak and sobbing when she shattered a fourth and final time. Holding her trembling body close, he whispered soft words, caressed the gentle slope of her back, while his body jerked and pulsed deep in her center, filling her with his seed as he roared through his own orgasm.

  The first round of sex with Savannah was always a wild, reckless collision, bodies straining to mate with an intensity that never failed to both shock and thrill.

  Laughing, he tossed her over his shoulder. She squealed when he nipped playfully at her hip. “To bed, my minx.”

  “Are we staying here tonight?”

  “I suppose it can’t be helped. My place is just too far away, and I’m still damned horny. I’ll get you back to my bed tomorrow, but for now,” he proposed as he dropped her on the mattress and stalked over her, “I’m going to fuck you again. Nice and slow, this time. Then I’m going to carry you to the shower and fuck you again. Then we’ll crawl back in here, and—”