Holding Seychelle close to him as she brushed her teeth, Savage realized they were right. What could he have done? “Can you stay with her while I’m gone? Don’t feel comfortable leaving her alone. And did Transporter say anything about the girl Campbell was with? I’m sure it was Campbell hanging around too.”
“No, Transporter didn’t say anything about the girl, but I’ll text him and ask,” Preacher said. He exchanged a long look with Ink. “You need us to stay, there’s no problem.”
“Just so we’re clear on this woman, Savage,” Ink said. “This is a permanent situation?”
“Guess you didn’t hear what I said. Seychelle belongs to me. She’s mine. I’m not ever turning her loose. I don’t know how to put it any fuckin’ plainer than that. She’s going to live with me, and she’s stayin’ no matter how rough it gets. So be her friend and watch out for her. She’s never going to have an easy life.”
Seychelle spit into the sink and rinsed out her mouth repeatedly. Savage reached around her and turned off the faucet. He unbraided her hair and set her down on the bathroom floor, so he could turn on the shower and then strip. She was next. Fuckin’ devil in hell was trying to tempt him.
Bog, his woman. She had curves in abundance. Slender legs, small waist and rib cage, but hips, tits and ass. It was all there, but even better, her skin was porcelain white. Perfect skin. A fuckin’ canvas. Her tits had perfect nipples, just as he had suspected. Because her breasts were ample, her nipples were tight buds that stood out perfectly for clamps, a pretty, blushing pink. She’d been created for him, his perfect little angel he was going to corrupt and lead straight to the fires of hell.
She kept winding herself around him, her hands straying south, stroking when he didn’t need her touching his already-hard-as-a-rock cock. No matter how many times he took her hands off him, they were back. She wound her leg around him, the one with the scars, rubbing her sweet pussy over his thigh, and she was hotter than hell.
He gave up trying to keep her hands from pumping his cock, carried her into the shower and took advantage, licking at her nipples to see how sensitive they were. He used the edge of his teeth, then bit down and pulled gently, listening to her gasp, listening to the way her breathing changed. His hand moved between her legs to feel the damp heat. His fingers found her slick, and each time he tugged or bit down a little harder on her nipples, a fresh flood of liquid coated his fingers. He couldn’t stop the need welling up like a volcano, but he could be disciplined. She was drunk and sick. He needed to lay everything out in front of her, let her know what his needs were. What kinds of things were going to be expected of her. This wasn’t fair to her.
“Okay, baby, we have to stop before this gets out of hand,” he advised, although that was the last thing he wanted to do. “Put your hands on my chest and leave them there.”
Her eyes closed, and she began to slump. He had to catch her around the waist and hold her up to wash her carefully, wash that waterfall of gold-and-platinum-colored hair, condition it and then pass her off to Preacher and Ink while he showered. They wrapped her hair in a towel and dried her off, pulled on her tank and then tucked her into bed. He dressed, found a blow-dryer and started on her hair.
Preacher took the dryer out of his hand. “You’re already going to be late if you don’t rocket. They aren’t going to wait for you, Savage. Czar’s meeting with Plank at three in the morning. It takes an hour to get there, and you’re running out of time. You have to be on time.”
Savage pulled on his jacket and gloves. “You keep her safe for me.”
“You don’t have to ask twice, brother,” Ink said.
Preacher nodded. “She’s safe.”
Savage took one last look at his woman. Her lashes lifted, and she looked directly at him with those teal-blue eyes of hers. His gut twisted. Never in his life had he been reluctant to go to a meet that could very well result in blood and death. That brought him up short.
As he made the ride to Boonville, speeding on his Night Rod Special, he thought about what he was asking of Seychelle. He wanted her to take a leap of faith and give herself to him. Just surrender everything. She would have to in order to live with him.
He was so fucked up he needed strict rules in his life in order to survive—in order for those around him to survive. His brothers and sisters in Torpedo Ink recognized that he had to live a certain way, and they gave him that space. It would be very difficult for a woman to do so. To give him everything she was and more. He would demand so much more from her.