Wicked Savage: Chapter 8

I arrive a little before six, making sure she won’t have to wait for me.

I’m not offended that she didn’t want me picking her up from her place. Coming from the life I do, I understand the need for caution.

When an SUV pulls up exactly at six, I stay where I am, wondering if it’s her. At first, all I see is a man, clearly armed, getting out of the driver’s side and heading toward the back.

Then she steps out. When his hand lands on her shoulder, a surge of possessiveness hits me, and I’m ready to tear his arm off for touching her.

I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me. I barely know her, but I don’t want any other man’s hands on her. I know she’s not mine. But damn, I’d like her to be.

He shuts the door and scans the perimeter, his gaze landing on me. That’s her bodyguard, if I had to put my money on it.

But why does she need one? Who is she, really?

Of course, I’ve looked her up and found nothing. But I’ve got someone in IT at Caellach running a deep dive, just to make sure she’s not a threat. In our world, you can never be too careful.

The moment she spots me stepping out of my blue Royce, parked a few yards away, her dark eyes lift, sparkling with a smile. And that alone just about stops my heart.

I’m completely done for.

“Hey there, stranger,” she says, her grin spreading.

“Hey, baby. You look beautiful.”

“Thanks.” A soft blush blooms across her pale skin, making my chest tighten.

I reach over and pull her in for a quick kiss on her cheek before drawing back. My gaze trails down her figure. The skintight black dress hugs her curves, stopping just above her knees, with the beige sandals adding a few extra inches to her height, though she’s still so small compared to me. Her hair blows in the wind, and a desperate urge to push it from her face washes over me, just so I can touch her again.

My pulse races, as if she holds the key to my heart.

The man behind her steps forward, his gaze locking with mine. He’s about my height, maybe a little older, and the way he sizes me up isn’t lost on me.

I nod in greeting, noting the way his hand rests on something concealed. He’s definitely armed. But that’s okay. So am I.

“That’s Boris. He’s my…bodyguard. We’re kind of a package deal.” She crunches her nose in the most adorable grimace.

My arm instinctively slides around the small of her back, tugging her close, and the tiny hairs on her bare forearm prickle against my skin. I like the power I already have over her body.

“You ready?”

“Mm-hmm.” She turns to Boris. “You can go back and follow us.”

“As soon as you’re in the car, Ms. Ma⁠—”

Her eyes flare at him for a split second. “Dinara is fine.”

“Yes, miss.”

Her bodyguard is Russian too. Does her family know Konstantin’s?

“So, where are you taking me?” she asks as we head toward my car.

I lower my mouth to her ear, feeling the heat of her breath against my skin. “I thought you wanted to be surprised.”

“I do,” she whispers back.

Her head drops against me, sending a surge of warmth through my bloodstream. It feels like she already fits perfectly beside me.

I press the button for my Royce as I pull out my keys, and when Boris moves to open the door for her, I reach for the handle instead.

“Territorial, huh?” she breathes with a little smirk.

Before she can get in, I stop her, pushing her against the car. My front presses against her back, her palms bracing across the roof.

I drop my mouth to her ear, inhaling the faint scent of her rosy perfume. “If you think that’s bad, wait ’til you see what happens when you’re really mine.”

She swallows, a flicker of uncertainty flashing in her eyes as she glances back.

What’s going on in her head? Does she not want this? Or is she just nervous?

My fingers slide to her front, trailing up her thigh, sweeping over the fabric of her dress.

“I like this dress.” I shift the conversation, giving her the escape she’s clearly craving.

“Do you now?” Her voice is barely a whisper.

“I do. But I’d much prefer to see you out of it.” My fingers slide up higher, one pressing into her core, right through her panties.

She sucks in a breath. “You know he’s still watching, right?”

I let out a low dry laugh. “If he’s going to be following us, might as well make it worth his while.”

“You’re so bad.”

She grabs my wrist and forces me deeper into her core while footsteps pummel away from us, like Boris finally realized he should get the fuck away when I’m touching my woman.

“Look who’s being the bad one now.”

“I can be good or bad. Which side do you prefer?”

I shove her panties to the side so I can feel her bare. “Why choose? I can play with both and see which one begs for more.”

“Oh God,” she cries out while my finger sweeps through her cunt.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

Her moan is a hoarse breath, like she’s unable to hold it in as I tease her clit, wanting to suck it into my mouth and watch her fall apart.

“Get in the damn car before I fuck you right up against it.”

Inhaling sharply, she shivers against me and looks over her shoulder, the same desire coursing through me reflected in her gaze. I need to stop this before I do exactly what I just said.

Grinding my jaw, I back off of her, and she spins toward me, her hand reaching for my face and cupping my stubbled cheek in her soft grasp. Closing my eyes, I lean into it, enjoying the feeling of her hands on me. My body moves into her space, pinning her to the car, my mouth drifting lower until it brushes hers.

“Mmm,” she groans, snaking her long, slender fingers through my hair.

Without hesitation, I close the distance and take her lips, the kiss deep and urgent. The sounds of her pleasure send blood shooting to my already rock-hard erection. Pulling on my hair, she swirls her tongue against mine, dragging my mouth deeper to hers like she can’t get enough either.

What is she doing to me?

Her other hand slides down my back, and every muscle in my body tightens at the sensation.

“Fuck,” I grunt, pinning my forehead to hers. “You should warn a man before you kiss him like that.”

“Thanks for the advice. I promise to remember that the next time I kiss someone else.”

My jaw snaps, and instantly, my hand is wrapped around her throat. “Say that again.” I nip her bottom lip with a growl, and she smirks playfully. “You kiss someone else, and you might as well be sending him to an early grave.”

Her brows shoot up, but that smirk never disappears. “Are you usually this psychotic?”

“No. This is me on a good day.”

As she laughs, my hand slips into her silky hair, and then I’m kissing her again—harder and rougher, like I’m claiming her for the world to see. I’m not sure if it’s the fact that I took her virginity or because I just like her, but whatever the reason is, I know this woman is gonna be mine, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

I don’t know how long we stay like this, but I’m positive we’ll be late for our reservation.

When we finally come up for air, that glimmer in her dark eyes has me wanting to kiss her all over again.

“Get in.” I guide her into the car before sliding into the driver’s seat and pulling onto the road, with Boris trailing behind us.

My hand rests on her thigh, the touch instinctive, and I can feel her shift in her seat, clutching her small purse tighter against her lap. I watch my hand on her leg for a moment, noticing she’s staring at it too, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s feeling what I am. That this feels…right.

“So, have you always had a bodyguard?”

She clears her throat, her gaze flicking to the side for a moment before meeting mine again. “Yeah, for a while. My family owns some banks, and they’re pretty obsessive about my safety, so wherever I go, he’s with me.” She rolls her eyes, a frustrated laugh escaping. “Trust me, if it was up to me, he wouldn’t be here.”

“Safety’s important. I can’t fault your family for that.”

“Right.” She twirls a lock of hair around her finger, a faint smile tugging at her lips, but I sense something behind it. Frustration, maybe, or something deeper.

“So how did you end up at the club?” I continue.

“Oh, my family has connections.”

“And they didn’t care that you were there?”

“No. Why would they? I’m eighteen.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal, but it’s a big deal to me.

My jaw tightens. “I don’t want you going back there without me.”

“So possessive…” She laughs—a low, sultry sound that stirs something primal inside me.

The tips of her fingers trail up my forearm, sending a jolt of heat through me, and I feel the touch all the way down to my bones.

“I have a feeling you like it.” My palm tightens on her thigh, holding her close, as if marking her in some way I can’t explain.

Her smirk widens, and it’s almost like she’s daring me to push further.

“What are you doing this weekend?” I ask.

I need to see her again. I need more of this.

“Why?” She eyes me curiously, a glimmer in her gaze.

“I want to take you away for the weekend.”

Her giggle catches me off guard, and I can’t help but grin. Damn, I don’t think I’ve ever smiled like this before. Like it’s coming from somewhere deep inside me.

“We haven’t even gone on our date. What if you don’t like me?”

“That’s not possible.”

Her cheeks flush a deeper pink, and I can tell it’s not just from the makeup she doesn’t need. She’s beautiful, effortlessly, in a way that has me thinking she doesn’t even know how breathtaking she truly is.

“What if I won’t like you?” Her brow curves, chin tipping up.

“You’ll learn to.” My hand slides up, squeezing her inner thigh.

Her head falls back as my fingers drift higher.

“Sounds like torture,” she whispers, mouth parted, breaths growing tight as I stroke her pussy through her thin lacy panties.

Dragging them to the side while keeping my eyes on the road, I work her clit while she grips the seat with small, tight fists, twisting in pleasure.

“Ready for me already.” I drive a finger inside her.

“Don’t stop.”

When I glance over, her eyes are fastened shut, teeth tugging on her bottom lip.

“Wider. Spread your legs wider for me.” She does as she’s told, brows furrowed, gasping and moaning. “That’s it. That’s my good girl. Show me that pussy.”

She bucks against the invasion as I feed another finger inside her, those walls clenching around me. I pummel deeper, faster, her moans sounding more desperate and less in control. Teasing her, I decrease and increase my tempo, driving her wild.

As soon as we arrive at the restaurant, my movements freeze and I slide her panties in place.

“What the hell? You’re gonna just leave me like that?” She gasps in protest, her chest rising and falling as her shock-filled expression captures my smug one.

“That’s right.” I roll the car into an available spot, turning to her, sucking the fingers that were just inside her into my mouth. “So fucking good.”

Her lips part as she watches me, those thighs squeezing tight.

“If you behave all night, I’ll let you come on my tongue.” I grab her jaw and pull her close. “If you’re really good, I’ll even let you come on my cock. I remember how much you liked it.”

Her eyes narrow. “You’re gonna regret this.”

“Promise?” My tongue flicks out to trace the curve of her lips.

A cunning grin stretches across her face as she pushes the door open, stepping out. I follow, tugging her hand in mine, the tension between us crackling.

She tries to slip from my grasp, but I pull her closer. “Best behavior. Remember?”

“I hope you make it worth my while,” she murmurs, her voice low and playful.

I let out a laugh. “You’re just gonna have to wait and see.”

Boris follows closely behind as we make our way inside. A maître d’ greets us with a practiced smile, and we walk past her into the restaurant.

“I love this place, by the way. Thank you.” She casts a grin in my direction.

I raise her hand to my lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. “No need to thank me. I just want to make you happy.”

Her cheeks flush and she glances down, clearly trying to hide the effect I’m having on her as we move toward the private room I’ve arranged.

“You can wait out here,” she tells Boris, and he nods, stepping aside to stand just outside the door.

The maître d’ leads us further inside, where a single round table sits in the center of a dimly lit room, three flickering votive candles casting soft shadows around us.

Just us. Exactly how I wanted it.

She sits gracefully in the chair I pull out, and I take mine across from her, the space between us feeling charged. For the first time ever, as I watch her settle into her seat, a thought crosses my mind—one that feels almost foreign.

Would my mother have liked her, had they ever met?