Free Savage Nights (The Savage Trilogy #2) by Mia Gabriel Page B

horses moved in the stalls around us, I imagined a groom or stableboy coming to find us. “Here?”
    “Here,” Savage said. Along the edge of the stall ran a small ledge where grooms could lay brushes or bits of tack, and without warning he grabbed me by my waist and lifted me up to set my bottom on the ledge. I felt like a piece of porcelain placed precariously on a shelf, and I flailed my hands to find my balance and keep from falling.
    “Hold me,” he ordered gruffly. “You’re exactly where I want you, and I won’t let you fall.”
    “But what if … if we are interrupted?” I asked, and even as I asked I realized that the idea of a witness excited me. “What if one of the grooms sees us?”
    “What he will see is that you are with me,” Savage said, his voice gruffly imperious. “That is all that matters.”
    I nodded, accepting. It was all that mattered. I looped my arms around his shoulders and felt instantly more steady. He’d become my rock that way, my anchor, and fresh desire replaced my first uneasiness. We were nearly eye to eye now, and I leaned forward to offer him my mouth again.
    But he’d other ideas. He grabbed a fistful of my habit’s skirts and swept them back over my legs. He grunted with purely male approval at what he’d discovered, and I smiled.
    “It’s not my Innocent’s costume, Master,” I said. That had been a wisp of a garment, a plain white shift that had been nearly transparent, worn with nothing beneath it.
    “It’s not what ladies wear for riding, either,” he said, his gaze still focused on my legs in black silk stockings and laced riding boots with curving heels.
    “It’s what I wear for riding with you, Master,” I said. “Does it please you?”
    He grunted again, cupping one of my knees in his hand, his palm sliding across the slippery silk.
    “It does please me,” he said. “Very much.”
    Beneath my severe habit, my garters were red silk with silver clasps. Instead of my usual white linen undergarments I’d worn black silk drawers edged with wide bands of black lace at the knees and trimmed with red ribbon rosettes—the kind of drawers usually reserved for a ball gown or, more likely, for an evening that began and ended in the bedroom. While I’d shocked Hamlin by my choice, I cared only for Savage’s opinion, not that of my maid. The long slit that separated the drawers’ legs was meant for ordinary convenience, but I knew now it would be put to another purpose.
    He hooked his hand beneath my thigh and wrapped my leg around his waist. I rocked back on the ledge and lifted my second leg myself, crossing my ankles around his back. With my thighs raised and parted, the open slit in my drawers separated, revealing the white skin of my belly and the dark hair below, and my quim rosy and weeping with arousal.
    “That’s how I like you, Eve,” he rasped, tearing at the buttons on his trousers. “Always ready for me.”
    I whimpered as he ran the ridge of his finger between my nether lips and unerringly found my pearl. He dipped deeper into my cunt to gather more of my essence, gliding over the little nub in teasing small circles. I heard my lubricious wetness and the slippery sound of his fingers moving over me. I sucked in my breath and instinctively lifted my hips to meet his touch.
    I felt the blunt heat of his erection bump against the bare skin of my upper thigh, and I held my breath in anticipation. I knew what was coming, and I wanted it as much as I’d ever wanted anything.
    He pressed the engorged head of his cock to my opening and pushed. I felt my passage giving way for him, opening to accommodate his thickness. His dark hair slipped forward over his brow and his nostrils flared, and I glimpsed the same possessive fury that he’d shown towards the baron. It excited me, that fury. How could it not, when Savage wanted me that much?
    He tightened his hold on my hips and bent his knees for a better angle, then thrust hard.
    I gasped with both