Falling Into Love with You (The Hate-Love Duet #2) - Lauren Rowe Page 0,48

and licks and kisses my neck. I feel his dick against my ass and feel the quiver of his body as he holds back his own release.

I let out a garbled sound. “I’m gonna come,” I choke out.

“Not yet.”

With a loud growl, he flips me over, throws my legs up, and enters me. He rolls his hips as he thrusts, making my eyes roll back into my head so hard, I feel like they’re rubbing against my brain.

“You’re mine, Laila,” Savage says, as his body plunges into mine, over and over again. As his large dick impales me. “I own this body,” he says. “It’s all mine.”

“Savage.”

“Not yet.”

I feel my inside walls clench. My eyelids flutter. I make an inhuman sound.

“You can come now, baby,” he coos, almost inaudibly. And that’s it. I immediately come undone. With a loud scream, I come harder than I ever have in my life. As I writhe and moan in ecstasy, Savage pulls out of me . . . and a second later, I feel the sensation of warm wetness splattering across my face.

As I lie there, processing the fact that Savage just shot his load into my face, he crawls between my legs and does the same thing he always does after I’ve had a gushing orgasm. He licks up every drop of his trophy.

“You’re delicious,” he murmurs, after finishing his work. With a wink, he leaps off the bed and pads into the bathroom, leaving me cum-streaked and exhausted and staring at his hot backside in retreat. When Savage returns to the bed, he’s not only got a towel in his hand, but a huge smile on his face. In fact, the boy is grinning as big and wide as a Cheshire cat. He slides his fingertip through the warm streak on my face and offers it to my lips, so I take his finger into my mouth and suck.

“Good girl,” Savage says softly, like he’s talking to a baby bird. With another wide smile, he wipes my face with the towel. “Are you feeling ready for tomorrow now?”

“You can’t possibly think what we just did has helped me remember how to hate you. It was incredible.”

Savage’s smile broadens, even more. “Aw, come on. It had to have helped you get into character for tomorrow a little.” He sits on the edge of the bed and counts off his supposed sins on his fingers. “I wouldn’t let you come. I bossed you around and pulled your hair. And then, I topped it all off with a sperm facial.” He smirks. “How rude of me. How degrading. How infuriating.” His expression is pure snarkiness. He knows full well what he did to me was hot as hell, top to bottom, and that I loved every minute of it.

“This is so classic you,” I say. “The same thing as when you sang my name in ‘Hate Sex High,’ but buried it slightly in the mix, just enough to preserve yourself some deniability. You wanted to have dirty sex and come in my face. Period. But you said you were doing it to help me ‘get into character,’ so you could hide behind your suit of armor, if it turned out I didn’t like it. Classic Savage.”

Savage smiles wickedly. “Well,” he says. “Even if I haven’t made you remember to hate me, at least we had a damned good time.”

“We sure did.” I peck his cheek and then hop out of bed and head into the bathroom. I wash my face and brush my teeth, and soon, Savage joins me for his usual bedtime routine.

“Don’t worry too much about tomorrow,” he says, his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth and his naked, massive dong hanging low. “I have faith you’ll figure out a way to convince yourself you’re highly annoyed with me tomorrow—if not downright infuriated.”

“I don’t know,” I say. “It’s a tall order these days. Look at you. You’re perfect. Gorgeous. Talented. Sweet. How could I possibly remember what it feels like to be annoyed with you—let alone infuriated?”

Savage lifts an eyebrow, his expression practically screaming, I’ve got a secret.

“What?” I ask.

“What what?”

“That look.”

“What look?”

“You just did it again. It’s full of mischief. Like you know something I don’t.”

Savage spits his mouthful of toothpaste into the sink and grins adorably. “You’re a drunken, paranoid lunatic. Now, come on, baby. It’s time for bed. You need to sleep off all that contraband wine, so you can wake up tomorrow and, against all odds, remember how