Seychelle had always loved his cock. It was large and impressive, velvet over steel. The crown was broad, and whenever she touched it, satin soft, it leaked those pearly drops that always made her want to lick them off of him. There was a thick vein running the length of his shaft and scars that wrapped around the entire shaft, making him look even more intimidating. She knew part of the reason he liked rough sex was because his penis needed enough stimulation to be able to feel through that scarring.
She’d dreamt of taking him in her mouth. She’d wanted it for so long. His hand was heavy on her shoulder, urging her to her knees. Her mind was suddenly filled with images of another woman, her mouth greedily devouring him. She could hear others surrounding her laughing. Pointing and laughing. She could hear Savage laughing too. The images and voices whirled together into a terrible blurring kaleidoscope of sound and vision.
Savage rubbed the head of his cock along her lips, murmuring something she couldn’t hear above the jeering laughter. He stroked her cheek, then her jaw. His eyes flashed that cold blue that sent shivers down her spine.
“Seychelle.” His tone. Commanding.
Now his hand spanned her jaw. Pressed. Opening her mouth. He rubbed along her lips, and she tasted him. The laughter grew louder. The images in her head flashed brighter.
“Red.” She whispered the word. “Red.” She said it louder, trying to be heard above the noise in her head. She sank back on her ankles, away from him, extending both arms, hands up, palms out to defend herself. “Red, red, red. Red, Savage, red.”
Few things shocked Savage, but the sight of Seychelle, obviously frightened, crying real tears, backing away from him on her knees, frantically whispering her safe word over and over, managed to throw him. She literally was crawling away from him, looking terrified, as if he were a monster about to attack her. When he took a step close to her, she shrank back even more, her hands going up to protect herself, and her safe word got louder.
“Seychelle, baby, look at me.” Savage crouched down, putting himself at her level, trying to connect with her. “Angel, you’re safe. You’re with me. You’re always safe with me. Let me hold you. Come here to me.”
She blinked rapidly, her tear-wet lashes fluttering, her eyes bouncing all over the place, pupils dilated, as if she was so terrified, she was looking for a way to escape, to run from him. He softened his voice even more, stilling, not moving a muscle.
“Angel, you mean more to me than anything on this earth. You have to know that. See me, Seychelle. See me. This is Savin Pajari, your fiancé, your man. Say my name. Say it, baby. Tell me who you belong to.” He kept his voice low. Not in the least demanding. Velvet soft, letting it caress her nerve endings. He didn’t reach for her. He did nothing that could constitute a threat to her.
Savage willed her to look at him. Seychelle was already conditioned to obey him, especially when she was naked and vulnerable. Her gaze jumped to his face, moved up to his eyes and was instantly trapped there. Good. He kept his focus on her, knowing once she looked into his eyes, she wouldn’t be able to look away.
“That’s it, baby, you see me now. Savin. Say it.” Deliberately, he used his birth name. He rarely gave it up to anyone, even her. She knew it. She whispered it to him occasionally, but only when he made love to her. When they stared into each other’s eyes and it was more intense than he had ever imagined loving a woman could be. She would whisper Savin in that soft, breathless voice and turn his heart upside down.
He wanted her to see his love for her, not his domination. Not Savage the biker, although he knew she loved and trusted him as well. Just at this moment, she needed to feel safe, totally safe, and he didn’t know what was scaring her. She was upset with Torpedo Ink. The club. The members. With him. Something was off-kilter.
Her lips parted. Formed his name, but no sound came out. Her eyes darkened. That blue went to sea blue. Sapphire. Terror receded just a little but was still there. She wrapped her arms around herself. Her entire body shook so much he was afraid she would topple over sideways before he could get his hands on her. It took a tremendous amount of restraint to hold himself back.
“Say it for me, baby,” he encouraged. “I need to hear you say my birth name out loud. Not too many people I trust with that name.”
She blinked again. The terror in her eyes faded to fear and confusion. A little frown took over. That frown turned his insides to pure mush, not a good thing when he was surrounded by enemies and his club counted on him to be their enforcer. It didn’t matter. Nothing did in that moment but Seychelle.