Savage Want (Wicked Wants, #3) Read Online Free PDF Page B

a simple yet incredibly complex man. A dangerous man. A man whom I intended to kill, only I needed to prepare myself for the moment. Must be able to get away after the deed was done and—
    “What are you thinking?” he asked, draining his cup.
    I smiled innocently. “Nothing, my lord.”
    “My lord. I like it. Lord Wulf. Lord Torsten.”
    With a wicked burst of laughter, he pounced on me, our lips meeting again and again. He smelled of leaves in winter, and woods in summer. Smoke. A bit of the mead we’d just shared. And his body was hard under his mantle, and my fingers rebelled against me in order to feel the rippled tautness of his stomach. I closed my eyes. His muscles bunched at my touch, but he made no move to either stop or encourage me from what I was doing. Cecil had been a lord, but he was softer, smaller. Torsten was living rock under a man’s hide. I lay my head against his chest and heard the galloping heart within. His breaths were shallow, rapid, and I realized mine had become the same.
    Our gazes met then my view rolled over his rugged, haired cheeks and chin, the bow-shape of his lips, the infinite deepness of his eyes.
    “Elena,” he whispered.
    I swooned, head lightened by the mead, body heated molten by an unanswered desire to know Torsten’s danger. To see his blade. I smiled.
    “My lord.”
    He slid my gown down over my shoulders, and set to work unbuttoning all the tiny shell buttons. His hair slid from his shoulders, a dark curtain shrouding his arms. Once he’d completed his task, my clothes were parted to reveal my small breasts. My nipples stood erect, almost as if reaching for his attention. He bowed his head to my breast and sucked the hardened peak of my nipple.
    My eyes squeezed shut. I’d never felt anything like it before.
    I found myself rolled supine, the back of my head against the bed, facing the fire as I heard a rustle of fabric. Torsten climbed on me again, this time, bare-assed. His cock seared against my thigh, and my hips rose to meet his body. His lips covered mine, my hair tugged by his eager fingers, my hip squeezed by his strong hand and I moaned into his mouth without meaning to.
    His skin was warm against mine, his kisses hungry and wandering as he trailed his beard along my cheek to my neck, where he nipped gently. I squirmed, unsure of where to touch, what to do, as he took control and led the way to what seemed like a wicked sort of heaven.
    His fingers pulled my hair tighter as his lips danced up my throat. Wonderful tickles of his beard made me want to giggle, but the heat between us pushed a deep moan from me instead. I reached for his cock and held its warm girth. So much bigger than Cecil’s had been. His hips pivoted and then I understood. A small smile graced my lips as I pumped his shaft, my breaths tight. I could hardly breathe at all. What little air I had, he stole with a fierce kiss.
    Yes, I would kill him, surely. Just not yet. I closed my eyes as he slid down my body to lick and suck my nipples and belly, then he touched me in a place that I never knew could be so sensitive.
    My womanhood. Gods. He played me like a musical instrument, his fingers kneading, demanding, not resting until I called out his name and gasped as if I were in pain. I was to give my heart to Cecil, my future husband, not some barbaric beast like Torsten, but in a way, it seemed right. It was blameless, a mutual joining of two opposing forces, his kingdom against mine. His hand cupped my mound and squeezed as he rose to kiss me again.
    “You are wet, Elena. The hottest river I have crossed.”
    His whispered words tickled my ear and I giggled.
    He gripped my thigh and seated the head of his cock against my cunt. Kisses. Pressure. A splitting of worlds, leaving one behind to face another. Savage lust. A white-hot flash of lightning deep inside my cleft, then done. A monstrous sensation of fulfillment, as if he himself would crawl into my small space. I clung to his bare