Page 39 of My Cruel Salvation

Slowly—so deliciously slowly, he kisses his way down my spine, then urges me onto my knees. I’m nothing but greed and sensation now, and I cry out in surprised delight when he smacks my ass, not once, but twice. And then, when he slips his hand between my legs and eases his fingers inside me, I close my eyes and arch back, desperate for more, for everything.

“Christ, I need you,” he whispers, then traces his fingertip from my clit all the way to my ass. I bite my lip as he teases me there, then suck in a gasp when he slips his fingertip past the tight muscle as he eases forward to whisper in my ear, “Do you remember what I said.”

I moan, my body firing with need as he reaches over me for the lube we’ve left on the bedside table.

“My fingers in your pussy, my cock in your ass.” The words are raw. Graphic. And a huge fucking turn on.

“Yes,” I say, realizing I’m rocking in anticipation. I want this. There’s nothing I don’t want with Devlin, and tonight, I know we both need it. I need complete surrender. And so does he. He plays with me at first, teasing and touching. His fingers on my clit, his cock hard against my rear. And then, when I’m ready to beg, he thrusts his fingers inside me at the same time that his cock edges inside me, more pressure than pain, but a wonderfully sensual bite all the same.

He plays me both ways in a rhythm that drives me to the edge and back but never quite takes me over. He’s relentless, and I’m floating on the edge, not sure how I’m going to survive this pleasure when the release never seems to come.

Then what seems like, hours later—and yet all too soon—I feel his body stiffen, and then I know that I have to go with him. I have to explode in his arms. I have to lose control with him, because that is what this is all about. Us and control and trust and passion.

Passion, I think as my body turns to starbursts, as he cries out my name and fills me, as I collapse onto the mattress, buried beneath the weight of his body, feeling wonderfully used and completely loved.

We stay that way until the world rights itself, then get cleaned up before sliding back into bed, this time beneath the covers. He holds me close, and for the first time since yesterday, our bodies are drained of tension.

I close my eyes, letting sleep come to claim me, but Devlin’s voice in my ear pulls me back, and I blink in confusion as he whispers, “Thank you.”

“For what?” I ask.

“For loving me, El,” he says. “Just for loving me.”

Chapter Sixteen

I wake at half-past seven to an empty bed and the smell of frying bacon. Since I hadn’t thought to grab clothes from the room Lamar’s now occupying, I tug on the t-shirt I’d worn yesterday and my underwear, then head downstairs. Everyone in the house has seen me in less, including Lamar, and I don’t feel right borrowing the robe that hangs behind Mr. Big Shot’s bathroom door.

Devlin’s already fully dressed in what he wore yesterday, and his eyes skim over me as I enter the kitchen, sending a tremor of heat up my spine the same way the touch of his fingers had last night.

“You look very casual,” he says as Brandy glances my way, then laughs.

“Admit it,” she says. “You’re just trying to get a rise out of our Mr. Saint.”

“A rise?” I flash Devlin a seductive grin. “That’s always a good thing.”

He clears his throat. “While I understand the concept of just friends, do me a favor and cover that very sweet ass before Lamar wakes up and comes out here.”

I shake my head. “After the day he had? He’s going to sleep until at least noon. Trust me.” I wiggle my ass, simply because I’m enjoying the feel of this lighter mood. I know it can’t last, but I want to squeeze out all the moments I can. “Unless you have an issue with the outfit?” I add, raising a brow as I look at Devlin.

“For in-home loungewear when other men aren’t around, I have no problem. Suggest we go out to lunch like that, and we’ll have a chat.”

I smirk, then brush a kiss across his cheek before heading behind the counter to pour a cup of coffee and snag a muffin and a piece of bacon from the paper-towel covered plate.

“Hey,” Brandy says, swatting my hand as I dance away, almost spilling my coffee.

I take my score of bacon and settle in at the counter next to Devlin. “This is great,” I say, holding up a strip of bacon. “Lamar may regret sleeping in after all.”

“Oh, he’s already gone,” Brandy says. “Said he’s eager to get to it.”

I shoot her a what the fuck look, but she just shrugs.

“What?” she protests. “I was having fun listening to you two bicker.”

“Banter,” Devlin corrects. “We don’t bicker.”

I take another bite of my bacon. “Sometimes we do,” I say. “But only because we can make up after.”

“A definite perk,” Devlin says.