Page 53 of Saint

“I’m not drunk. I promise.”

“Tori, I can smell it on you.”

“Because I snatched the bottle from the table, and it spilled on me during my cab ride back here.”

“Should I be concerned about you storming off from those you speak so highly of with the bottle of wine you shared?”

“No!” I fussed, rolling my eyes. Discussing people he’d had to shelter himself from his entire life was not something I wanted to do. What I wanted was to fuck him so good that it made my pussy sore.

Saint dipped his head to sniff my blouse. His face lingered there before he kissed my neck.

He squeezed my breasts.

His hands grazed under my skirt and thumbed my clit.

And I whimpered, hiking my leg up to give him better access. Firmly, he held my thigh up, keeping me open and ready. Slow and steady was his pace, and I’d learned over the course of the last five months to revel in it. Inch by inch, he basked in the marveling of my body. As his tongue and teeth worked my neck, he slid the devastated cloth covering my sex aside, fingering me as I bucked into him.

I’d acquired the patience to relax as he took his time with my body, coming to appreciate it. The painstaking pace only made me wetter. Made the sex better. Intensifying the pleasure.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Beauty. I don’t like this stench on you.”

As Saint freed me from gravity, lifting me from my feet, I wrapped my arms and legs around him. He carried me up the steps, and my lips wrapped around his, enjoying the mintiness of his breath and the clean, leathery scent of his cologne.

“You went diving today?” I asked, breaking away from our fiery kiss as he turned the corner to get to our bedroom.

“How can you tell?”

“You always spray cologne after you shower when you go diving. Why? You expecting some hot young stallion to be in your face and on your dick?” I teased.

“I don’t– Yes, I do,” he amended with a grin. “She’s 5’5. Deliciously brown-skinned. Big sultry eyes. A sexy mole on her left near her nose. An addictive dimple on her right.”

The summation of his obsession he housed for me left a satisfied smirk on my face. Sitting me on the edge of the bed, his hands gently tugged my skirt away. He hiked my blouse over my head and unsnapped my bra. For several seconds, he raked over my attentive nipples, pinching the pierced one.

“Saint…” My eyes lowered with need as I bit my lower lip.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, wifey.”

He pulled me to my feet and escorted me to the shower, pushing me under a stream of hot water that washed away my tipsy splendor. I soaped myself, keeping my eyes locked on the man my body cried for. It felt good letting the shower head beat against my limbs. I just wanted him to do it instead. He stood at the shower door’s opening, watching me until I reached out and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, pulling him inside.

Inexplicably, my need for his closeness beset my heart and head. I needed him enveloping me in his essence to wash away the blemishes of Dream and Luna’s words. I wanted to bask in whatever it was that we’d been developing. I wanted to be overwhelmed by it.

He was fully clothed, though not for long. As water fell against us both, he removed his shirt, balling it up and tossing it over the glass door. Already, I was working the buckle of the cargo shorts he wore, unzipping them and letting them fall to his ankles. I, too, fell, massaging his growing erection and sliding the tip into my mouth. Saint eased backward into the marble walls for leverage, watching me work my mouth while he proceeded to catch flies with his.

Again and again, I slid that pole back and forth in my mouth, triggering the urge to gag.

Again and again, my fingers palmed his balls as I continued stuffing and sucking.

Again and again, his eyes shuttered and opened as if fearful he’d miss the highlight of my performance.

Again and again, I jawed him until he was ready to explode as he curled his toes.

Again and again, he pulsed until he released every drop of essence he housed.

And when I finished, I stayed on my knees, glancing up at his stunned afterglow and dragging my palm across his lower abs in feverous reverence. He was an absolute masterpiece, and he was mine, at least for another seven months.

The way his chest rose and fell.

The way he made my chest swell.

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