MATEO
Violet.
Her bright-blue eyes hold mine as I carry her toward my bedroom, and fuck if her name doesnotfit her at all.
She’s not a fragile flower.
This girl is fragile like a fuckingbomb. She’s fire and attitude, and I don’t remember the last time I was this turned on by a woman and hersassy fucking mouth.
She’s savage.
“What are your hard limits, Violet? I need you to tell me what Ican’tdo to you right now before we get started.”
“No restraints,” she says as I set her on her feet, and she tosses her bag on a chair. “No drawing blood. Not into knife play or primal play, mostly because I don’t like to run.”
I quirk up an eyebrow. “Do you have a safe word?”
“‘No’ tends to work well for me.”
“See, that’s where I disagree.” Her pretty blue eyes narrow, and I grin at her before I reach around and pull the tie out of her hair so I can unravel the braid. Her hair is thick and feels like silk as I comb my fingers through it. “Sometimes, in the heat of the moment, a person can slip out a meek little ‘no.’ But that doesn’tmean they want everything to stop. I need a word that, when you say it, everythinghalts immediately. Understand?”
“What kind of crazy shit are you into, Mateo?”
I ghost my lips over hers, then along her jawline and to her ear.
“Give me a word, Savage.”
“Salmon.”
I can’t stop staring at her lips. So full, so fucking bitable.
“Why?” I ask her.
“Because it almost killed me once, and I fucking hate it. Doyouhave a safe word?”
My first reaction is to laugh, but her eyes are so serious, I don’t think she’s joking about this.
“I’ve never needed one,” I reply.
“Interesting. We’re doing a lot of talking.”
And yet, my cock is straining unhappily against my jeans.
I step back and take her in. Her deep, auburn hair is loose now, falling in waves around her shoulders, almost to her waist. That vintage shirt hugs her tits perfectly, and I can see just a hint of cleavage where the neckline has been cut in a V. It’s tucked into cutoffs, and her legs are muscular and smooth, andI knew it.
Black Chucks. Not the high-tops.
Before I can advance on her, she whips her shirt over her head and lets it fall to the floor, leaving her in a simple black bra, and I canjustmake out piercings hidden behind the satin.
Fucking hell, she’s going to become an obsession.
“You’re way overdressed,” she informs me as she kicks out of her shoes and then lets her shorts fall and pool around her ankles, then flicks them aside.
And she’s not wearing underwear.
Her ink flows down her right arm to her knuckles, and over that same shoulder. She’scurvy. With those tits that I’ll bepressing my face to, hips and thighs, and even a rounded belly, but she’s also muscular. Strong.
“Are you still breathing?” she finally asks, and it sets me into motion.