Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
"Fuck," I breathe, watching her face as she takes me. Watching the way her eyes flutter closed, the way her mouth falls open on a silent gasp.
She doesn't stop until I'm buried completely inside her, until she's sitting on my lap with my cock as deep as it can go. Then she pauses, adjusting to the fullness, her hands braced on my chest for balance.
I can feel her pulse where we're joined. Can feel the slight tremor in her thighs, the way her whole body is wound tight with renewed desire despite the fact that I already made her come so hard she screamed.
"Look at me," I order, my voice low and rough.
Her eyes open, locking onto mine. There's something wild in them now, something unleashed. The perfect Ashby princess is gone. This is just Savannah—raw and real and mine.
"Ride," I tell her.
She does.
Lifting herself up slowly, almost all the way off my cock, before sliding back down just as deliberately. Setting a rhythm that's designed to torture us both—slow and deep and devastating. Each movement deliberate, controlled, wringing every sensation from both our bodies.
I watch her move above me. Watch the way her tits bounce with each roll of her hips. Watch the late afternoon sun catch in her blonde hair, turning it gold. Watch the way pleasure transforms her face—lips parted, eyes half-closed, a flush spreading down her neck to her chest.
My hands roam from her hips to her waist to her breasts, unable to settle on just one part of her when I want all of it. When I want to touch every inch of her at once, mark her, claim her, make sure she knows exactly who she belongs to.
"That's it," I murmur, my thumbs finding her nipples, circling them until they're hard peaks. "Take what you need. Use my cock however you want it."
She moans at my words, her rhythm faltering slightly. Her hands slide up my chest, fingers tracing over the tattooed angels and demons, careful around the still-healing brand. The touch is reverent, possessive, claiming me just as surely as I've claimed her.
"Legion," she breathes, my name falling from her lips like a prayer.
"I'm right here," I tell her, one hand moving to where we're joined, my thumb finding her clit. "Right here with you."
Savannah closes her eyes, drops her head back, exposing her throat. The line of it stretches pale and perfect in the fading light—vulnerable, trusting, completely open to me.
One hand goes up. Mine. I don't even think about it, don't plan the movement. My fingers just wrap around her throat, spannin’ the delicate column, feeling her pulse jump beneath my palm.
Her eyes fly open, wide and startled. Blue meeting mine with something like shock, like she didn't expect this even though she offered herself up for it.
"It's okay," I soothe, my thumb stroking the side of her neck. Gentle. Reverent. "Don't worry. I won't press hard. I'll be gentle. Just… fuck me, Savannah. Just fuck me."
Her breath comes faster. I feel it against my palm, feel the way her throat works as she swallows. The vulnerability of the moment settles between us like somethin’ sacred. She's still riding me, her hips rolling slow and deliberate, her pussy squeezing my cock with each movement.
But now there's this—my hand on her throat. Not choking, not threatening. Just holding. Claiming. A reminder that she's mine and I'm hers and there's nothin’ between us anymore except skin and sweat and this desperate need that won't quit.
"Trust me," I murmur, my other hand still working her clit in slow circles.
She does. I see it in her eyes—the moment she lets go of the surprise, the fear, and just surrenders to it. Her body relaxes above me, her hips picking up speed, riding me harder now. Using my cock exactly how she needs it.
My fingers stay loose around her throat. Light enough that she could pull away if she wanted. Firm enough that she knows I'm there, knows I've got her. The pulse beneath my palm pounds faster, matching the rhythm of her movements.
"That's it," I rasp. "Take it. Take what's yours."
She moans, her head still tilted back, giving me her throat completely. The trust in that gesture makes somethin’ fierce and protective surge through my chest. This woman—this perfect, maddening, beautiful woman—chose me. Chose this. Chose all the darkness and demons that come with loving Legion Kane.
Her pace quickens. I can feel her getting close again, her walls starting to flutter around my cock. The hand on her throat feels her breathing change—shorter, sharper, desperate.
"You gonna come again?" I ask, my voice rough. "Gonna come on my cock while I hold this pretty throat?"
"Yes," she gasps. "Yes, Legion, please—"
I don't make her beg. Don't make her wait. My thumb presses harder on her clit, circling faster, and the fingers around her throat tighten just slightly—not enough to restrict, just enough to remind her who's holding her, who's got her, who she belongs to.