Forbidden Sensations: A Dark Romance Savannah Rose (readnow TXT) 📖

You don't say you're sorry for something, then throw a 'but' in so you can blame your actions on another person. Jesus Christ,” she admonished, and stormed over to the fire. “God, what a tool,” she muttered to herself, and took the fawn off her fish, stabbed it with a stick, and held it over the flames.

“I didn't know there was a right or wrong answer.”

“You don't know a lot of things.”

“Well, how 'bout you tell me?”

“Well, how 'bout you shut the fuck up?” She stared at her fish, its skin beginning to crackle, the meat inside beginning to cook.

It smelled so good, my stomach literally roared with hunger. She must have heard it, from all the way over there because she glared at me, her lower jaw moving back and forth as she ground her teeth. She looked as though she wanted to take the stick from the bass's gut and run it through mine. You know what it was? Murderous.

Don't get me wrong. I've seen that expression on a lot of women's faces. I was quite, quite familiar with it. I'd scorned more than my share of females. I was an alpha male just running my way through the sex pack for years. But Sofia's face? Leagues above hatred, levels over detest. And as she crouched beside the fire, roasting a fish over an open flame, the muscles in her bronze, toned legs strained to perfection, something stirred within me.

At the time, I didn't know what it was.

She took the fish from the fire, and slid it onto the leaf. Cut it in half, lengthwise, and pulled its bones away in one, swift motion.

“You're good at that,” I said.

I didn't expect her to say 'thank you'.

“Did you go to culinary school? Is that what you are? A chef?”

Sofia sat down, adjusted her share of the bass on the leaf, and began to eat. She ate while she watched me. As if I were a television special.

My stomach rolled again, wanting to be fed. Needing nourishment more than it had ever needed a damn thing. I'd thought for a moment she would bring me the other half, but the more she ate, the less I believed I was going to have dinner tonight.

I leaned my head against the tree and stared up at the sky. Stars were beginning to dot it.

“Okay. You asked me what I think I should be sorry about. Obviously, I don't know what it is you want to hear. I'm wracking my brain, Sofee, and I've got to admit, I can't come up with a thing,” I said, taking my gaze away from the heavens, and putting it back on her. “Does that make me a shitty person?”

“Everything about you makes you a shitty person.” She licked her finger then took up the other half of the fish and her knife.

My heart thudded in a quick double time. What was she going to do this time? Threaten to cut off my dick again? Or stop screwing around and turn me into a Unich right here and now?

Sofia shuffled over to me, on her knees, and tucked her feet beneath her legs.

“Want this?” she asked, slicing a bit of meat away and holding it out in front of me.

I could have started drooling. Hoped I wouldn't as I opened my mouth. It could have been a fatal mistake, now that I think about it. There was no telling what the hell she was going to do with the boa. But I couldn't stop myself. I was ravenous.

“Say the magic word, Maddy.”

The white flesh on the tip of the knife was juicy, and dripped down the serrated edge of the blade. She may have been fantasizing about shoving it all the way down my throat and slitting my face open from the inside out. Much like she'd done with the bass.

“Please?” I could not recall the last time I'd said that.

Sofia put the meat on my tongue, and let her knife linger there for a moment. My tongue could come away forked, if she so desired. She knew it, I knew it.

She pulled the blade away, and watched as I chewed the piece she'd offered. Slowly at first. It was flaky and warm and the best thing I'd ever tasted.

She sliced off another portion, then another, and I ate them all with a savage fervor. I could feel my strength return with every morsel.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Fuck yourself,” she replied.

Chapter Nineteen

SOFIA

The trouble with having a pet is that you have to take care of it if you want it to live.

I didn't want Maddox to live, which made our current scenario such a weird juxtaposition. The fates are funny like that, and as I've heard it said, everything happens for a reason. My 'everything' was wrecking the Insatiable, which led me to the 'reason'. I'd found the shithead's Achilles heel.

I'd known people like him, but never to his degree of perversion. It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure out this guy was a freak for his fetishes.

The night I'd spent spread eagled on his bed like some double-D heroine in a bondage movie was a crash course in what made this fucker tick. He lived for his cock. He existed for his power. Maddox was nothing more than a ten-figure junkie, and his drugs of choice were sex and domination.

And yessiree, withdraws were a bitch.

Up until very recently, I didn't believe that sexual addiction was a real condition. The way he'd screamed, though, when I denied him his pleasure – brought him right up to the edge of his climax then took it away – I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it. His anguish. His pain. It was fascinating. And no one deserved it more.

That's why my waterproof notebook was becoming a journal. As I watched him pant like the dog he was, catching his breath after such a catastrophic denial, I wrote down my