Saint

Once he’s totally naked, he opens the condom. I’m transfixed as he rolls it down his erection, then gives himself a few firm strokes before placing one knee on the bed.

“I’ll come in that smart mouth later,” he hisses as he prowls toward me. “This first time, though, I want to be inside you.”

My chest heaves with my uneven breaths, and I’m only capable of a nod as he settles above me on his hands and knees. We stare at each other for a heartbeat of time, and I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing I am. That this is surreal. That I could’ve never imagined this happening, not in a million years. Yet, now that it is, I wouldn’t do anything to stop it.

I want him.

I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anybody.

It doesn’t make sense, and I shouldn’t feel this way, but I’m also done questioning it. Whatever this thing is between me and Saint is more than hate, and more than lust. It’s too powerful to resist, no matter how stupid being with him may be.

“You ready, Ellis?” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” I breathe.

Reaching between us, he takes himself in hand and I spread my legs wide so he can line himself up with me. He pauses one moment, the tip of his cock wedged against my entrance, and then, with a thrust of his hips, he slides inside. I gasp, because his dick is so much bigger than his fingers, and it’s been so long since I’ve had sex with anyone. Once he’s pushed into the hilt, he holds himself still, as if he’s giving me time to adjust to him. Pressing one of his thumbs to my clit, he rubs it in slow, firm circles, and sparks of pleasure begin to shoot up through my body.

I relax and my muscles become more giving as I get wetter. Soon, there’s no pain. I just feel full and stretched, and I want to clutch him tighter to me and grind my hips against him.

“Good?” His voice rumbles, and I feel it moving in his chest, which is pressed tight to mine.

“Good,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

He doesn’t need further encouragement. He rolls his hips, then slowly pulls himself out until just the tip is inside me. Then, he slams back in. I let out a cry, and he begins to move with force. He’s so rough, but I love it. There’s no finesse to our sex. No playing. Just pure, animalistic lust and instinct driving us onward. He growls and snarls as he pistons into me, and I shriek until my ears hurt, clawing at his shoulder and arms with my nails.

Dropping his head, he buries his face against my neck and begins licking and sucking my skin. I know he’s leaving a mark, a big one, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to hide it. I don’t care at the moment, though, especially when he lowers his mouth to my breasts, sucking and biting at my nipples while he thrusts into me.

“Saint!” I chant his name like a prayer, but I don’t know what else to say. He’s stolen my ability to think and speak, and all that’s left is touch. Feel. His hard cock wedged deep inside me. The rough pad of his thumb pressing into my clit. His teeth scraping against my nipples. His big, rough hands pi

He’s all around me. Consuming me. I couldn’t escape him now, even if I wanted to.

But I don’t want to.

I really, really don’t want to.

What I want is to come, and he’s shoving me toward release like a freight train. I know it’s going to be intense, and I’m almost scared to reach it. But I don’t want him to stop pushing me.

His thrusts become more brutal, and I think that means he’s getting close as well. It suddenly becomes a race toward the finish, and he seems determined for me to win. His thumb is rubbing my clit so fast now, his hands a blur. It’s too much stimulation, and I almost shove his arm to get him to stop touching me there, but the next moment, I’m crashing over the edge and nothing else in the world matters but the explosion of pure ecstasy coursing through my body.

I scream against his skin, no longer even capable of saying his name. My nails dig into his shoulders until beads of blood bubble up. It doesn’t seem to bother him, though, as he keeps driving in and out of me, drawing my orgasm out longer and longer until I’m sure I won’t last another second without completely passing out.

When he comes at last, I know it the moment it begins to happen. His maddening thrusts pause for a split second of time, and then he arches his back, his breath catching, as his hips shove into me as hard as they can. He pulses inside me as he releases into the condom.

When we both come down from the high, he collapses on top of me, but then rolls to the side so he’s not crushing me. We lay in total silence as we catch our breaths. I can’t believe that just happened. I can’t believe I had the most mind-blowing sex of my life with Saint Angelle.

And I can’t believe how badly I already want to do it again.

“Hey, what’s up with your scars?”

I glance over at Saint, who’s lounging against my headboard, still completely naked. We’ve just finished round two of more bone-rattling sex, and I’m spent. I can hardly move, but his question makes me jerk into a sitting position. Feeling suddenly self-conscious, I yank my bedsheet over my legs and chest, where I have patches of fading scars, though none of them are super noticeable unless you’re really close to me.

Like Saint’s been for the last couple hours.

“They’re nothing,” I quickly say.

Pressing his full lips into a firm line, he gives a slow blink, and it’s clear he doesn’t believe me. I don’t really give a shit if he believes me or not, though. He’s not getting the story behind my scars, no matter what he says.

“They don’t seem like nothing,” he replies. “They seem like fucking something.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk about them, so just drop it.”

He rolls over so he’s on his side and props his head in his hand. “Touchy subject?”

His tone makes me pause. He doesn’t sound like he’s mocking me. He sounds … curious, but not mocking.

“You could say that,” I grumble.

Reaching out, he tugs the bedsheet from my grasp, baring my breasts again. With the tip of his finger, he traces the pattern of one of my scars. The contact is so gentle and warm, I shudder as need pulses through me.

“These look like burn scars.”

I push his hand away. “I said I don’t want to talk about them.”

He stares at me for several moments before releasing as sigh, as if in defeat.

“Fine, don’t tell me. I don’t need to know any of that stuff anyway.”

It’s a sharp reminder of what we’re not. We’re not friends. We’re not dating.

But we’ve slept together, so that’s got to mean something.

I just have no idea what.

Swinging his long legs to the side of the bed, he stands, and I can’t stop myself from ogling his ass. His ass should win an award, that’s how perfect it is.

“Taking off?” I ask as he begins to gather his clothes.

He glances back at me with a smirk. “Why? Ready for round three?”

I don’t think my vagina would ever forgive me if I agreed to more hard sex tonight. I’m sore enough as it is.

“No.” I shake my head and stretch on my side, just like he had, so I can watch him get dressed. As he pulls on his pants and shirt, I can’t help but ask, “What are we, Saint? What does this mean?”

He turns and gives me that panty-melting, wicked grin of his. “Thanks for the fuck, Ellis.”

I groan as he turns and walks out my room without a backwards glance. That wasn’t an answer, but of course he knows that. Maybe we’re not enemies, but he’s sure not done messing with me.