Page 2 of Saint Baptiste 2

I couldn’t.

So... I relaxed. Lived through the discomfort and arched my back, leaning toward the one sucking my titties. At least he took his time. At least he knew what the fuck he was doing. If only he could make me feel beyond the surface he would be good enough.

Seconds later, the one at my necked moved. Decided to share my titties with his friend. I didn’t have to look down to know which one he was on because they felt distinctively different.

“Ay, Baptiste. You know the rules man, you can’t be doing this shit.”

I swallowed at the mention of his name and closed my eyes.

That Baptiste had to be my Baptiste, right? How many Baptiste men could there really be at a place like this? Walking the same hall I walked, headed in the direction of the room I was in?

It was him.

Had to be. I felt it. He was coming. Finally. For a second, I thought he’d left. I thought what I’d done had been too much. Thought after seeing me with them, he abandoned me and left me to fend for myself. He could’ve. If he would’ve, I would have had to accept that. But he hadn’t. And my God, I was so grateful.

“Save me,” I whispered, barely moving my lips.

“What was that baby? Taste you?” Asked the one between my legs, slightly slurring over his words.

I didn’t say anything.

In response, I pulled my knees closer together, hoping he’d get the hint. He didn’t. He gripped my thighs and placed kisses on my calves, while his friends continued to attack my nipples. I laid there... frozen, waiting. Hoping... praying that when Saint walked in he saw me. Truly. And this time, he’d choose to save me instead of ignore me the way he had earlier.

At the sound of the brass doorhandle rattling, my heart began to thump heavier against my heaving chest. My breath got caught up in my throat as I peered at the tall, black door, through the small slit in my cracked lids. I gripped the bunched-up sheets beneath me as panic gushed through my entire being, afraid that he wouldn’t see me.

If he walked into the room and did that thing... if he looked at me with those eyes... those, piercing fuckers that saw through the depths of me, I’d be okay with that. I’d—It would be okay. But, I just... I wasn’t sure he’d see me. And that scared me. Because if there was a time that I needed him to see me most, it was now.

I looked down at them and noticed how they just, kept at it. It was almost as if they were in a trance. I had one on each titty, with their eyes closed lazily swirling their thick wet tongues around my nipples. While the one between my legs continued his slow trail of soft kisses up them, inching closer to the inside of my upper thigh.

My heart began to pound. Literally race.

Why...why hadn’t they stopped? Why didn’t they care? Did they not hear what was going on? Did they not hear what I had? The doorknob rattling? The mention of his name? A name that was well-known through Pandora’s? Maybe... Maybe I was hallucinating? Was I tripping? Had I fuckin’ imagined it?

The room started to spin a bit as the multiple shots of tequila began to hit me at once. I was tripping. Losing my grip with reality.

“The fuckin’ key,” Saint demanded, that Haitian accent thick, drenched heavily with anger.

“Ay! This room is occupied!” Yelled the one who’d been on my titties first. “Fuck goin’ on around?—”

Before he could say another word, the door suddenly opened. The bald one stopped the trail of kisses up my thigh and the slithery tongue swiping against my cold nipples came to a halt. Everything stopped and they were on their feet within seconds.

So, I wasn’t imagining things. This... it was real.

Like before, that titty sucker spoke up again. Not only was he passionate, but he was bold too. Five years ago, I would have had a time with him. “Fuck. Baptiste. This you? Shit.”

Saint didn’t say anything.

The minute he stepped into the room, his eyes were on me. When his eyes met mine, there was enough fire behind them to set the entire city ablaze. It sent a shivery chill down my spine; the most feeling I’d gotten in the room all night and he hadn’t laid a fucking finger on me.

Saint continued into the room, gun in hand, exuding intimidation. The tension was heavy. The three of them put their hands up and backed away. However, Saint didn’t give a fuck about them. His eyes were on mine. They hadn’t wavered since they found them. It was as if we were the only two people in the room, the way we were fixed on one another.

When he made it to the side of the bed, he made a few adjustments to his gun, tucked it inside of its holster, and gripped the top of his slacks before crouching beside me. I hadn’t moved. Couldn’t. That fear of going unseen had crippled me. Left me cemented onto the bed, rendered me speechless, too. I couldn’t read him. Not completely, anyway. The only thing I could see was fire. That fire... it was horrifying.

I had never felt so disgusted and exposed in my life. The top of my fuchsia pink, sequin strapless mini dress was pulled completely down. And because I was cemented into the bed, held down by the sheer terror of not being seen I left it like that.

Saint hooked his thumbs underneath the top of the dress and delicately tugged it up. I exhaled a shaky breath, when his thumbs accidentally brushed against my nipples, sending a shiver down my spine, as he swept by them. Tingles shot through me at an instant. It was like my body didn’t respond unless his hands were on me.

He lightly gripped my jaw, tilted my head back and did that thing. The thing that only Saint could do. Looked through me. Into the depths of me. Tonight, I didn’t shy away from it. I didn’t hide. I didn’t snatch away from his touch. Didn’t put a wall up. Couldn’t if I wanted to, anyway. They crumbled before he walked in. I was open. I prayed he’d be able to see beyond those fiery flames of rage and see me. Truly. Hoped he see her. It. My soul, calling out for him. Begging him to save her. To save me. To save us.

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