Saint

20

I’d forgotten how good he tastes. Even flavored with booze and pot, his lips are delicious, and I’m helpless to do anything but melt for him. He’s like a drug. I know that he’s so, so bad for me, but it just feels so, so good to indulge.

To escape.

His fingers tangled in my hair aren’t gentle as he angles my head so he can force his tongue deeper into my mouth. My back hits the door, and his body presses flush to mine. I can feel his hardening cock against my belly between the barrier of my t-shirt and his jeans. He didn’t let me see it last time.

I’m desperate to rectify that now.

This is wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong. A mistake I’ll probably regret in the morning, but I can’t stop my hands from sliding down his hard torso. I reach his jeans and yank on the button the same time I pull down his zipper. He doesn’t stop me this time, which I take as permission to keep going. Slipping my hand inside, I push past his boxer-briefs and wrap my fingers around his length.

He’s big and hot, and so very hard.

He snarls into my mouth as I begin to stroke him.

His free hand cups my breast over my shirt. I’m not wearing a bra, and that fact appears to please him as he kneads my flesh and pinches at my nipple until it’s stiff and poking at the material covering it. I want my clothes off so I can feel his hands on my bare skin.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I’ve never reacted to a guy like this. I’ve never been so needy and frantic before. Something about Saint brings out my darkest instincts and throws my inhibitions to the wind. Is it because I hate him as much as I want him?

Do I hate him? Really?

Yes, of course I fucking do. He’s made my life miserable, which only makes what we’re doing that much more insane. I should be pushing him off and screaming in his face, not jacking his dick while he palms my tits.

But I think the both of us are just too fucked up to know the difference between right and wrong. We just know what feels good, and what doesn’t.

And this feels amazing.

He’s thrusting into my hand and I tighten my grip. He grunts, bites my lip, then grabs my wrist to yank my hand away from him. I try to say something in protest, but he doesn’t stop kissing me, even as his hands grip my ass and he lifts me off my feet. He carries me across my room toward the bed. Breaking our kiss, he tosses me onto the mattress like I weigh nothing. I bounce and let out a squeak of surprise as I sprawl out on my back.

Saint stands at the edge of the bed. He holds my gaze as, without a word, he reaches up and grabs hold of my pajama shorts and panties. Yanking them down my legs, he tosses both articles of clothing over his shoulder to land somewhere on the floor behind him. My pussy tingles as he pulls his t-shirt up and over his head, revealing every beautiful inch of his chiseled torso. As he stands before me shirtless, with his hard cock protruding from the opening of his jeans, I just want to run my tongue along the ridges of his abs, but before I can make a move toward him, he grabs my ankles and pushes my legs up and apart.

I’m so open and exposed, I feel the first tingling of embarrassment heat my cheeks.

“Saint…” I murmur, but he ignores me. His eyes are locked on my vulnerable flesh, like a starving man set before a banquet.

He lets go of one of my ankles so he can run a finger through my folds.

“You’ve got one of the prettiest pussies I’ve ever seen, Mal,” he rumbles, turning me to putty with the way he growls my name. I’m so distracted by his words and the heat in his voice, the slap takes me by complete surprise. It isn’t hard, and it doesn’t hurt, but no one’s ever done that to me before. He does it again, and again, light pats against my clit that make me squirm. I’m getting so wet from this, it stuns me.

“You like when I do that, little masochist?”

I can only nod and moan as pleasure streaks through me.

No shit, I like when he does that. When he calls me that.

He smirks, then shoves two fingers inside me without warning. I cry out in surprise and a little bit of pain at the burn of his sudden invasion. He bends his head and takes my clit between his lips as he pumps his fingers in and out of me, and soon, the burn melts away into toe-curling pleasure.

“Fuck … Saint! Shit, I…” I’m rambling as he turns my brain into mush. He’s merciless, hurling me into a dark paradise with his hand and mouth, and I can do nothing but lay back and take it.

I claw at the bedsheets and tug at his blond hair, trying to get a grip on everything he’s making me feel, but it’s a lost cause. He’s pushing me to my peak, his tongue, teeth, and fingers shoving me over the edge as I scream with my release. My orgasm shatters me, and I jerk and spasm uncontrollably as he laps up my juices.

When I go limp on the bed, he raises his head, looking so damn smug, I want to slap him. I just don’t have the strength.

He digs into his back pocket and pulls out a condom. I arch a brow.

“I see we’ve come prepared,” I say in a hoarse voice.

His shoulders flex, then relax, as he winks. “I’m basically a goddamn boy scout.”

“A little presumptuous of you.”

His grin is wicked. “Did you want to fuck bare?”

I bite my lip as the thought sends me to a place I hate to go, hate to remember, but I shake my head. “I’m not an idiot. No condom, no go.” I don’t tell him I’m on the shot because I don’t want to give him a reason to launch into a useless argument.

He goes to rip open the foil packet, but I sit up, struck by a sudden thought.

“Hold on, not yet.”

Saint pauses and stares at me with a furrowed brow. “What is it?” he asks, his voice hard.

Holding his gaze, I push myself closer to him until my ass is right on the mattress’ edge. I reach out and hook my fingers through the belt loops of his pants, then tug him closer. Realization lights up his eyes, and his expression turns savage and hungry.

Wrapping my fingers around the base of his cock, I gaze up at him and stick my tongue out to lap at the head. His jaw tightens and his hands fist at his sides, but he doesn’t touch me and lets me tease him at my own pace. I lick him from base to tip, then wrap my lips around the top to suck gently. He groans, and I grin. It’s an intoxicating feeling, having Saint Angelle at my mercy for once. I drop my head and take him as far into my mouth as I’m able.

He groans, and his hands cup my head as if he can’t help himself. He doesn’t push me further down on him or try to move me at all, but just hangs on to me as though he needs something to anchor him to the ground. I hum in delight, and he shudders above me.

“Fuck, Ellis…”

I begin to bob my head up and down, faster and faster. I’m desperate to see him lose control. To fall apart and crumble because of me. I know I can get him there. I can push him over the edge as easily as he pushes me. Closer and closer. His thighs clench. His groans turn to snarls.

I’ve almost got him right. Where. I—

He stops me, holding my head still as he yanks his hips away. His cock leaves my lips with a pop, and I try to chase after it, but his grip is iron.

“Saint! What the hell?” I glare up at him, angry he just denied me the sight of him coming undone.

He grabs the bottom of my shirt and yanks it up and over my head, tossing it away with the rest of my clothes. Then, he grabs me around the waist and tosses me back further onto the bed. I prop myself up on my elbows and watch him shove his jeans and underwear down his legs, the condom packet between his teeth. He’s looking at me like a predator, eager to feed, and I’m his willing prey.