Savage Reckoning (A Savage Love Duet #2) Read online

  I hear the sound of footsteps approaching, and I know it’s one of the girls by the click of their heels and the speed in which they’re walking. I look up to see what they want, and my eyes skim the room. They stop when a man enters. I don’t move a muscle as my heartbeat slows down because I can’t take my eyes off him. He stops before he reaches the tables and looks around. He has a baseball cap on his head that’s covering his eyes, but I can see the defined jawline and cheeks that sit above it.

  My emotions fly high—it’s the same man from weeks ago, the stranger from the coffee house. He doesn’t look my way, and for that I’m glad because I’m afraid of what he may do or say if he sees me staring. Averting my eyes as his close in on mine, I take two deep breaths telling myself that I don’t need what he has to offer, even when I know it’s a lie. How can I say no to sex.

  I busy my hands with the mixing of drinks and try my best to not look back up when they are ready. Placing them on the tray in the front of me, I move from the inside of the bar back around to the other side collecting the tray and walking it over, looking down and watching where I’m walking. Once I reach the table, I look up slightly to drop the drinks off, but the customers pay me no attention. With a small fake smile that I’ve managed to master, I turn and run into someone, a figure I know the smell of, one whose bed I left at the beginning of the week. His hands touch me on my hips, and I revolt by backing away. I only focus my eyes on his when I feel his hands draw back. Robert slash Bob, what was his name again? Is staring at me with a look of confusion which I don’t understand. I asked for nothing after I slept with him and I left without a word. Yet, here he is standing in front of me in confusion. Why? His red hair looks dark in the bar. There’s no light shining brightly down it like it did that day. Averting my eyes, I see if my stranger with the dark hair from the coffee house is still here, then Robert slash Bob pulls me back with a name.

  “Sara,” he says the name I gave him. Looking around quickly, I make sure no one heard him. I don’t ever give my real name because I never plan on seeing them again. And still, somehow, he’s found me. “I thought it was you when I walked in.” He scratches his head.

  Looking down to my feet then back up again, I have the sudden urge to wash my hands from being so close to him. The memory of him, of what he did, fixed in my brain now like it has only just happened.

  “Yeah,” I say wiping my hands on my apron again. “Look, I’m working so…” I trail off not finishing the sentence, not really knowing what else to say. What else is there to say?

  “Maybe we can catch up after?” His hand comes back up to touch me, and before I can move away fast enough, he has a hold of me, pulling me to him like I’m his lover, which I clearly am not. I want, no I need, his hands off of me as fast as possible. I struggle and try to move away, but he smirks like I’m playing a game with him. I’m ready to kick him where the sun doesn’t shine when I’m pulled backward and into the arms of yet another man. Only this one doesn’t feel like he’s closing in on me. The feeling is odd, and I don’t know how to explain it. Looking back up, I see that the Robert slash Bob I slept with has hard eyes on whoever is behind me. The voice rumbles dark and dangerous through his chest, I can feel the vibrations running through me with the full force of his voice, it’s deadly.

  “Leave,” is all he says, making me stand up taller as I watch Robert slash Bob scrunch his eyebrows in contemplation. He shakes his head and walks away like it isn’t worth his time. It clearly isn’t.

  I take two deep breaths before I step forward and away from his grasp. I can’t turn around just yet to thank the stranger, I have to try and calm my erratic heart first. Talking it over in my head, I can get away without any explanation if I just say a quick ‘thank you,’ offer a free drink, and go back to working behind the bar like nothing happened. Turning around ready to face this stranger, I see no one behind me. Only the table I served, who are too wrapped up in each other to notice anything other than themselves. Shrugging my shoulders and shaking off that feeling, I go back behind the bar to hide, hopefully not coming out again for the rest of the evening.

  Time drags on and I don’t see either man again. When the bar finally closes, it’s just me and Von left as I close the till.

  “Go home,” Von says, watching me from the door. He turns and opens it trying to have me leave. I look around one last time before I take my apron off and switch the lights off. As I walk out, he leans in and taps my shoulder as a goodbye.

  The night air is colder now than what it was when I first arrived. A slight chill whips through the air as I take in the night sky. Everything is as quiet as the dead. No drunks hanging around, no cars driving by, and it sends a shiver up my spine.

  My beat-up rundown car sits all by itself in the parking lot. I look around to make sure no one is there before I walk closer to it. My low heels crunch in the gravel, and my breathing is deep and heavy. The darkness does this to me, it causes me to freak more than necessary. The light makes me feel somewhat normal. While opening my car door, a voice comes from behind me. I jump, my hands plaster against the window of my car and my head spins so fast you’d think I was in the Exorcist. There’s a man with a baseball cap standing not far from me at all.

  A streetlamp illuminates the area and it’s all the light I get. It shines on him, so I can just make out some of his features. He’s dressed in all black, a short-sleeved shirt that reveals very large arms, jeans that hug him so perfectly. The part of me that’s scared, is also the part that wants to see what’s underneath those jeans. My eyes roam all the way up to his face, where I stop and notice his eyes on me. He’s watching me. I know him. He was the man from the coffee house, he was the stranger who left. I recognized him when he walked in. I placed him at the back of my mind, but now that he’s close to me, he becomes all my mind can think about.

  “Is your name Sara?” he asks me. His voice is so rich and full that it takes me a moment to comprehend what he’s said.

  I missed that voice, I think.

  How can I miss a voice that I have only heard once?

  “Were you…” Shaking my head, I don’t finish the sentence as he continues to watch me, not saying a word.

  “Is it?” he asks me again, this time more dominant, leaving no room to argue or deny him—he wants me to answer him.

  “No,” I tell him, having no idea why I just did that. Then more words leak out of my mouth before I can stop them. “It’s Milanka,” I say, giving him my real name.

  He doesn’t move and I wonder if he’s even breathing. I can’t hear him or even see the rise and fall of his chest.

  I’m about to blurt out more words. Even knowing I’m tired and knowing I shouldn’t, I can’t help it when they rise to the surface. “Should we go to your place?”

  His hand moves and it’s the only sign I get. I start to wipe my hands on my shirt feeling nervous when he steps closer to me.

  “Your place.” He doesn’t leave it open for me to argue, he’s telling me my place or none. I should tell him no, that I’ve made a mistake, but like always, I can never do so. Never deprive myself of the one thing I want the most. Sex. It fills a void I didn’t know I had, but only just for those few minutes. The moments I’m flying away, riding on that ecstasy train, then it stops and my mind comes back to reality and down to the ground with a thump. Having no idea why I just did what I did, I curse myself, wanting to take it all back. I want to tell myself to never do it again. And yet here I am, doing just that, again.

  Chapter 4

  He takes an intimidating step toward me. His smell suffocating me, it’s rich just like his voice and full of flavor. So much so I can basically taste him without doing so. He smells like Old

  Spice and something sinful. His hand reaches out, and I think he’s going to touch me, but he just misses as he touches the door handle right near my ass. He pulls on it and I hear it click open. The door creaks loudly, he looks down at me, and all I can see is dark eyes and lips that beg to be ki
ssed.

  “I’ll be driving,” he says.

  I nod my head and take a step away from him, then make my way to the other side of the car. He’s seated in it already, and the car is started, making me clutch my hands in my lap. Neither of us speaks as he begins to drive, I’m too preoccupied with the fact that I just agreed to let him come to my house. I never let anyone come there.

  I live in a very small enclosed space. My bedroom is my living room. You take two steps and you enter my minuscule kitchenette, that’s so small it only has one counter attached to my sink.

  Taking a deep breath, I turn to see his hands on the steering wheel, his knuckles are almost white as he squeezes my little car tight with his hands.

  Who is this man?

  I haven’t even asked him his name. I trail my eyes up his perfect mocha skin and when I stop to meet his face, he’s already watching me with eyes that shock me as well as scare me. I’ve never seen eyes like that before. Eyes that want to pull you in yet scare you to stay far away.

  He comes to a stop, leaving my eyes for just a moment as he pulls the car up. I turn, seeing we are now—out the front of my house.

  How did that happen?

  I don’t remember giving him my address at all.

  Maybe I did?

  I must have because how else would he have known where to go?

  “How did you know?” My eyes stay trained on him, despite wanting to have sex with him, knowing my address is too much. Even if I want this man. His fingers tap lightly on the steering wheel and his eyes avert to my license that’s sitting in the middle of the car between us. Picking it up, I pocket it fast. His hand squeezes my thigh and desire comes back full force, ridding my worries as soon as his hands touch me. That touch fucks with my head.

  He leaves the car and walks around to my door. Opening it as it again squeaks in protest, he offers me his hand, and I take it. His hand encloses around mine. It’s so much larger that my hand feels like a small child’s in his. Shutting the door and letting go of his hand, I start to walk. Hearing his footsteps behind me makes me feel tiny with his larger-than-life presence. Unlocking my door, I step inside and hold it open for him to enter as he looks around. I watch him, unsure of what he’s looking at, there isn’t anything to see here.

  Closing the door, I drop my bag to the floor, place my keys over the key hook and slip my shoes off. Shrugging my shoulders and releasing the tension in my neck, I mentally prepare myself for what I’m about to do. I don’t ever need to work myself up for this. This is what I know, and it’s what I am good at. The tension relieves itself automatically.

  I begin to pull my clothing from my body as I stare at his back, waiting for his eyes to come back to me to see his reaction. I always get a reaction. Usually, it involves the men stripping as fast as they can once I’m naked.

  He turns slowly, still surveying the room as he comes to a stop, staring at me as he pulls the baseball hat from his head and messes with his dark hair. I can see his eyes more clearly now as he stares at me. They are almost violet, mixed with a tint of gray, just like I remember from the coffee shop. He holds his baseball hat in his hands as he looks straight at me, his eyes don’t deviate as they hold me tight and it makes me want to fidget. I take a step closer to him and when I reach him, his hands come up to my hips. His very large hand wraps around as he drops his hat to the floor and he keeps on looking at me. It’s like a war I see in his eyes, one that wants to pull away but he’s fighting it, his eyes want to move but he holds my stare.

  “Milanka…” My name drips from his lips, and I’ve completely forgotten I had given it to him.

  I’ve already broken so many rules with him tonight. Hopefully, I don’t break any more. “Hmmm…” is all I can say, no actual formation of words leave my mouth.

  “Are you sure this is what you want, Milanka?” His head drops to the side as he awaits my answer.

  A simple nod is all I can manage.

  I wasn’t always this way, I was reticent and reserved when I was a child. Growing up, though, that changed. Things happen in your life that pave the path of our lives. Mine was sidetracked and took on an all new route that I never saw coming. Before I can flip back to those days in my mind, his fingers dig in and pull me closer so my body is flush against his. His skin, as soft as silk, is now beneath my fingertips as I rest my hands on his shoulders.

  He bends down, lips coming to me, ready to claim me, no hesitation either which is another weird one for me. Except, they don’t touch my lips at all they touch my neck. He doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he drags his lips against my skin and then I feel the lick of his tongue as if he’s tasting me. Devouring me with his lips, his hands. One single movement and I cave to whatever he wants. That’s what he does to me, I’m weak for his touch.

  His hands drop lower and cup the bottom of my ass, they squeeze tightly then he lifts me up, so my legs go around his waist. He’s still fully clothed as he backs me up against the wall, slamming my back into it hard. I don’t protest, just let him keep on dragging his lips up and down my neck, then biting my ear.

  Reaching between us, I pull at his pants and manage to get them undone. They drop to the floor. Unwrapping my legs, his lips are still on me. He lets me down. I pull on his shirt not looking up at him, even though I can feel his stare back on me, watching and waiting for me to just look up at him. He doesn’t fight it as his shirt leaves his body over his head, and what I see is all muscle. I’ve never been with someone so large and powerful looking before. I pick my partners well. Usually, a man who can’t overpower me too much. That battle has been lost with him because a single hand could overpower me, and I could do nothing to stop him.

  “Touch yourself, Milanka,” he says as my eyes roam over him.

  Looking up, I was right when I knew his eyes were on me. They’re not on my body like most are, his are trained on my face, waiting and watching for what I will do. When I don’t do anything, he leans in close, his lips dragging again along my collarbone. I submit, offering it to him, then he pulls back.

  “Touch. Yourself,” he states again in that deep, rich, demanding voice.

  My hands slide down on his command, past my breast, down past my navel to my clit. His eyes watch me, not my hands, when I start to move in the way I know will cause me friction and get me going, which I already am. His eyes leave me and look down for a brief second, breaking eye contact before they travel back up to me landing on my eyes yet again.

  I keep going, rubbing and pleasing myself, not wanting to disappoint him, but also because I like it. Especially with him watching me. He reaches down, eyes still trained on me, picking up a condom from inside his pants pocket and ripping it open, then sliding it on himself. I haven’t looked down that far yet, I’ve only gotten to his unholy abs, and that was too much for my brain to handle. So much goodness.

  Now, though, I can’t help but look down as he finishes and reaches for me, pulling my hand away, making me feel lonely at the loss of my touch. Licking my lips, my eyes travel further, I want to gasp when I see his cock. It’s the largest I’ve seen, and I’m about to let him touch me with it.

  He doesn’t let me look for long as he pulls me back to him and lifts me up. I can feel it right at my entrance, teasing me as it nudges me. I lean in more and he does the same, going back for my neck dragging his lips along my collarbone. When I try to move, he holds me deadly still, and a part of that scares me when I think about what he could do, what he could take from me, without being able to stop him.

  Just before I freak out, he moves us so he slides right in, my head goes back against my old dirty walls. He reaches up before he moves, and pulls the hair tie from my hair letting my long black hair cascade all around me, covering my boobs and half my face.

  Then he moves, and fuck he moves fast, so fast that I have to dig my nails into his shoulder to hold on. It all happens so quickly, yet it could have gone on for hours. I don’t know how much time passes, but soon my body is climaxing and it’s
coming hard. So much friction, so much of everything all at once that I collapse onto his shoulder, both of us sweating and out of breath.

  My legs can’t hold tight around him anymore, they start to drop and shake. He carries me when he notices, and lays me on the bed on my back. He stands there, hovering over me naked, then looks me over. Quickly, he grabs my legs and flips me as if I’m a doll made of feathers. He lifts my ass up and pulls me to my knees then slaps me hard. A scream leaves my lips as he goes again, fucking me harder and even faster.

  Where does he get the stamina from?

  I feel his hands wrap around my hair and then he pulls so my neck arches backward. I’m positioned like a dog, a very obedient dog. He pulls, slaps, and he fucks me harder as I come again.

  As he leaves my body, I drop, closing my eyes, passing out and not caring that I just left a complete stranger in my home as I sleep.

  I wake with a start, covered in sweat. Frantically, I look around as I sit up. I spot him standing by the door, dressed, his baseball hat covering his eyes as he watches me.

  “You sleep like the dead,” his voice echoes through my small house. I’m still naked, not a thing covering me, so I reach for the sheet on my bed and pull it up to my chest. When I look back up, he’s opening the door getting ready to leave.

  Should I say something to him?

  Possibly… never come back? Forget that I live here?

  He doesn’t give me a chance as he shuts the door leaving without another word.

  That’s when the demons come for me.

  When I’m alone.

  When I’ve done something I shouldn’t have. They come, then they consume, without a touch of mercy.