Savior Complex: A Small Town Love Triangle Romance

“Fuck, that feels good,” I say. She laughs lightly but keeps working. Between the wine at dinner, my full belly, and her healing hands, my whole body feels like it’s unclenching, completely relaxing into her touch. Her hands are strong as she kneads my muscles. I want to say it surprises me, but I’ve seen her on the ranch. The girl is a beast, keeping up with the guys like she’s been working there all her life, and looking like a fine piece of ass while she’s doing it.

Right now her ass rests on mine, her hot pussy like an oven against my skin. I’m both completely relaxed and achingly erect. Her hands move from my shoulders to my lower back, and she presses in while I moan into the blanket. It’s not only working my sore back, but also my cock into the floor. She reaches my ass, her hands squeezing my muscles, but not before she grazes one finger against my balls.

“You keep doing that, and I’m going to have you on your back,” I warn her. She laughs, and then fuck if she doesn’t do it again. I take my legs and wind them with hers, flipping her over so fast she only has a moment to take a breath in before she’s laughing.

“I’m not done!” she insists.

“Oh, you’re done all right.” I hold her hands above her head with one hand, tight enough that she can’t move, then I lift that tiny little tank top and groan at her exposed breast. “You look so fucking delicious, Nina.” Then I clamp down on her nipple, taking that tiny bud between my lips and teasing her with my tongue. She writhes under me, her thin panties the only barrier between her and my rock-hard cock. I make quick work of that, though. I pull the flimsy fabric over her hips, moaning as her scent fills my nostrils. I could breathe her in all day long, get intoxicated off her. I dip my head, and she tilts her head back as I find her sweet honey and savor it on my tongue. She’s dripping wet, and I bury my nose in her folds, wanting to consume her. My tongue spears her core, and she cries out, her hands tangled in my hair as if she’s holding on to keep from flying away. And holy hell, I want to suck her dry, to consume her, to crawl inside her and never leave. This woman is everything to me, sexy as all get out and so soft and vulnerable. I don’t know if I’ll ever get my fill.

“Please,” she breathes, and I take her clit into my mouth and suck her in. Her legs writhe under me as I lift her ass to give me better leverage. I can feel her pulsing against my face, her wetness drowning me as she comes. I lap up every drop, eating her like she’s my favorite meal. “Please,” she says again, but this time she’s pushing me away, trying to regain her breath. I grin against her but release my hold so I can look at her face. She’s fucking radiant. The flames from the fireplace cast an orange glow on her skin, but it’s more than that. She’s glistening with sweat, and a wide grin is cast on her exhausted face. She looks up at me, her eyes narrowing.

“My turn,” she says, sitting up and pushing me back. I fall but keep my eyes on her as her gaze lands on my cock. She licks her lips—those sensual, swollen lips—her blue eyes running the length of me before her hand does the same. She finds my balls and lightly runs her long fingernails over the most sensitive parts. I arch my back as she does it again, this time tracing a line down my cock.

“You like that?” she asks.

“Jesus, Nina.”

The corner of her mouth lifts, and she leans down, her tongue tracing the same line her finger did. Then I’m in her hot little mouth, feeling every nerve in my body ignite as she glides her lips and tongue over my cock.

“You’re killing me,” I breathe, and she looks up at me, still holding me in her mouth. Her baby blue eyes are full of fire and ice, of innocence and lust—of everything that makes me wish I could run away with her forever, just forget the whole world. She looks at me like I own her, but really, she owns me. I am completely hers, and I cannot stand another moment not tangled up with her. It’s so fucking beautiful, seeing her mouth around me this way. I almost come right then, except she pulls off and gives me a wicked grin.

“Are you waiting for something?” she asks, and the glint in her eyes makes me want to do dirty things to her. She’s being slow and deliberate, and I’m a raging animal, ready to pounce.

“I am exercising all my restraint right now,” I tell her. “But if you keep teasing me, I might lose all control.”

She grins around my cock. And fuck, that look … the sheer wickedness in her eyes as she continues to taste me, to devour me, to thoroughly undo me. “Nina, baby, I’m not going to last if you keep going,” I groan.

Her mouth leaves my cock, and I mourn the loss. But to bury myself in her will be nothing short of divine.

“Let yourself go,” she says, then her mouth is back on my cock. And holy hell, it’s a delicious undoing. I close my eyes, one hand finding and gripping her hair as she fucks me with her mouth. I don’t push, though. I just want to feel her movements, to have something to anchor me as I completely drown in ecstasy. I feel the small tendrils of completion radiating from the crown of my head, through my veins, until my whole body is a tingling mass leading toward a fiery eruption. I cry out as I come, my hot ejaculate shooting into her soft mouth. She doesn’t stop, continuing to devour me as I lose control. I am wholly gone, my eyes closed, head tilted back as I moan into the void, her mouth working me until there’s nothing left to give. Just as I shudder back to reality, she lightens her touch, her mouth opening as her tongue laps up any remaining juices. When I finally open my eyes, she grins up at me, her mouth glistening with my essence.

If I had anything left, I’d take her just for that look.

“You naughty girl,” I say, laughing as I regain my senses. She stands and brushes a kiss on my lips, and I don’t even care that my juices are all over her. I grip the back of her head and she opens, letting me in as I taste myself combined with her sweet honey mouth. Her body presses against mine, and damn I just want to lick every inch of her curves.

We finish the night with a sinfully rich chocolate cake, each of us taking a humongous slice along with a scoop of ice cream. It’s delicious, but nothing compared to Nina. I want to take this cake and smother it all over her body, and lick her until every inch of her is clean. Then I want to do it again. But the way her eyes are drooping, her body slumping against the counter as I take her plate away, I know she’s exhausted. As soon as the kitchen is sparkling, I carry her to the bedroom. I’d only planned to sleep, but just looking at the curves of her body, the sleepy look on her face, and I feel like the greediest man alive. Luckily she doesn’t argue as I sheath myself with a condom, then slip inside her.

“I got you,” I whisper as she molds around me. It’s a sensual dance, my eyes locked with hers, sweat glistening on her brow as we grind against each other. When she comes, I taste the salty skin of her neck, inhaling her sweet scent until I pour every ounce of myself into her.

Only then, with our scents mingling as I stroke her back, her head resting against my chest, do I finally fall into sleep—and what a sweet surrender it is.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Nina

The weekend is over in a heartbeat. One moment we were wrapped in each other, interrupting naked tangles between the sheets with sustenance to keep our energy up and occasional toe dips in the freezing ocean just to cool ourselves off from our passion. The next we’re in the back of an Uber on our way to the bus terminal, the coastline whipping beside us as I wonder what the fuck we’re going to do.

The whole weekend was like a dream. Brayden ravished me in every room of that house, and my body is a new kind of sore that I know will stay with me longer than the time we spent here.

I hope I feel it forever.

But it was so much more than that. We savored long evenings talking about life and our hopes and dreams. We avoided the obvious, refusing to taint our time together with things we can’t change. Instead, our discussions were filled with philosophies and ideals, what would make for our idea of utopia, and which was more important—the journey or the destination.

To be fair, I was always after the destination. I just wanted to get there already. To reach the end of the meal. To experience true love. To finally see my goal weight on the scale. I even peek at the endings of books, just to make sure there’s a happy ending.

“You’re missing the point, though,” Brayden had told me. “If you’re so consumed by the end, you’ll completely miss out on everything that gets you there.”

Now that we’re reaching our end, I would give anything to stay within the journey forever.