Page 64 of Crushing Clover

“I don’t know. It’s always at night when I’m already asleep. I wake up groggy with a tongue between my legs. It’s not time to play Sherlock Holmes. I only care about orgasms.”

“And you haven’t orgasmed when he fucks you?”

“No, but it’s been close.”

Had he gotten lost? His lips were hovering over mine, and he was hanging on my every word. There was no way it was him, right? Not only did he hate me, he wouldn’t get me so close to orgasm so many times.

God, he was gorgeous.

“Besides, he goes down on me. What are the chances you would deliberately do something to bring me pleasure?”

He darted out his tongue and licked my bottom lip. I tried not to look startled.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t.”

Such an ass. But I still leaned forward, hoping for more, even though I detested him with every fiber of my being.

Why did my pussy have to be such a needy bitch?

“If you ever want to have another orgasm in your short, miserable life, you’d better rack that little brain of yours to figure out how to please me. Until then, you’ll have nothing but a sorepussy. Go inside now and shower off the chlorine, or your hair is going to be a mess.”

We were so close our chests were brushing together.

“Yes, Saint.” I gazed up at him, trying not to beg with my eyes.

“If you’re in there a second longer than strictly necessary, you’ll be punished. No touching yourself.”

“Yes, Saint.” I turned away and went to the pool’s stairs but turned back to look at him when I was almost at the top.

He was checking out my ass again.

“How can I be more pleasing to you?”

“Why? Are you that hard up?” The religious iconography tattooed on his skin made him look all the more evil, standing in one of the shaded parts of the pool.

Pool party with Satan.

“Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it, Saint,” I said, my pulse fluttering with my nerves. “I’m here to be of service.”

He clenched his jaw. “I don’t need some inexperienced little whore fumbling with my dick. If I need anything, Lucky already knows what I like.”

Rebuffed, I nodded.

He made a dismissive gesture. “Go.”

Quickly, I dried off and went upstairs to Lucky’s room. In the bathroom, I stripped and got into the shower, where the water trailing over my skin felt suggestive and frustrating. By the time I got downstairs, Saint was already showered and sitting on the couch—and his cock was jammed down Lucky’s throat. I stood there and watched. The man had no gag reflex, and no qualms about giving a sloppy blowjob. He also didn’t panic when Saint John cut off his air.

It’s fine to watch. It’s practically on-the-job training.

My fingertips brushed my thigh under the edge of my short sundress. I wanted to slide that hand into my panties and take the edge off while I watched them, but the best I could do wassqueeze my thighs together and enjoy the sparks of orgasmic pleasure that fired there.

Saint shoved him, and Lucky obediently collapsed back onto the floor. Without hesitation, Saint followed him down and lifted the back of his head, then sank into his mouth with a groan. Ruthlessly, he facefucked Lucky, giving him no chance to breathe. When he finished, it was all glaring, violence, and bared teeth.

Weird. He didn’t usually fuck Lucky’s mouth as if he hated him.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he was thinking of me.

Saint

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