Page 60 of Lethal Saint

This shouldn’t feel good.

“Does my wife like getting her sweet little cunt stretched by a gun?”

I sank my teeth into my bottom lip, my hips stuttering at his hot words, accidentally driving the gun deeper. Oh,fuck.

“Answer me,” he ordered, his soft voice hardened, as sharp as a knife edge. I throbbed around the gun, drawing blood from my lip when he withdrew the gun an inch and thrust deeper. Far deeper.

“Yes,” I forced out, my groan loud and carnal.

Damien’s eyes fixed on my lips, an expression on his face that I couldn’t name. “I’m going to completely and unapologetically ruin you,” he promised lethally, and rose over my body to lick the blood from my lip. “You’re fucking mine. My wife. My girl. My cunt. There is no part of you that doesn’t belong to me in its entirety.”

“These lips.” He kissed me, bruising and hard. “This throat.” He scraped with his teeth. “These tits.” He caught each one between his teeth, applying enough pressure that I let out a broken gasp, my hips bucking against the gun. The stretch, the wrongness, the thickness drove me to oblivion. I wanted him inside me, but this pleasure was blurring and maddening and I was greedy for anything he’d give me.

“These ribs.” A lingering kiss on an old bruise. “This stomach. This fucking womb.All mine.”

I was a panting, dripping mess. I couldn’t look away from him for a second.

“This pussy taking your gun so beautifully. Mine.” A calloused hand slid up my legs, pressing my thigh into the sofa to spread me wider. “This clitbeggingfor attention. Mine. Thispretty little asshole clenching when I fuck you.” He met my eyes with a ravenous hunger, moving the gun faster in my pussy, angling the strokes until my moans filled the room and both my pussy and ass clenched, the need so furious that I couldn’t stand it. “Mine.”

“Damien,” I whined. Begged.

“That needy little plea. Fuckingmine.”

My breaths came faster, ragged with every quickening thrust of the gun. He’d found an angle that made my eyes cross and he was determined to destroy me with it. I couldn’t help throbbing around the gun, couldn’t stop writhing my hips to meet each thrust, to drive it as deep as possible. Damien’s fingers wrapped around the handle met my pussy with each thrust. The sound of it was obscene. I couldn’t take more, needed this frantic, boiling need to break like a wire snapped.

His knuckle brushed my clit at the same moment I realised his finger was on the trigger. It wasn’t loaded, but that thought was cataclysmic even without bullets, and my whole body erupted into movement when I came.

Pleasure gripped in vicious waves, squeezing tight. I spasmed deep, deep inside, the barrel fucking me through every snap of my hips, every shuddering breath, every moan. When Damien dragged his mouth to my pussy with a throaty growl, tongue frantic on my clit, I screamed his name and arched off the sofa.

Unbearable. Annihilation. Essential yet fatal.

The orgasm wrecked me. Or maybe that was the low, satisfied laugh Damien made when he released my clit, andsmirkedat me.

My entire body melted into the sofa, my eyes unfocused on the ceiling.

Holy shit. Emphasis on the holy; this was divine and sacred. He treated my body like it was hallowed ground, and in return I would worship him as my god.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, kissing my clit before he drew back, slowly and carefully gliding the gun from my pussy. “And fucking delicious,” he added, holding my entire focus by sliding his tongue along the length of the barrel, swirling to catch every drop. He sucked and licked it clean, and my slow-thudding heart beat hard, heat crawling back through my body. Would he fuck me now? Eagerness rose, bringing my slow heartbeat back to roaring quickness.

“You made a mess of my gun,” I pointed out when he set it aside and pulled me into his lap.

“Youmade a mess of your gun,” he retorted, dark eyes sparkling.

I glared. But he was smirking and cocky and fucking irresistible. Like a moth to a flame, my lips found his in greedy presses, my tongue flicking over his bottom lip, teeth catching the same spot, demanding he deepen the kiss.

“Gotta get you to bed before you corrupt me further,” he groaned, winding my legs around his waist and standing with me wrapped around him.

“You’re already corrupted. You killed a ballroom full of people.”

“And don’t you just love it?” he taunted, kissing me roughly, deeply.

“Yes,” I whispered, my blood heating when he walked us towards my room, crossing the plush carpet and moving unerringly to the bed. “I love it. I was so scared you’d hurt me when I saw all those people dead, but now I want to go back to that moment and appreciate it. I want you to fuck me in that bed, surrounded by dead bodies.”

His steps faltered. “Jesusfuck,Vasilisa.”

I smiled, groaning when he devoured me in a rough, wet kiss, his tongue forcing mine into submission, lips pressing hard, teeth grazing the place I’d drawn blood.

I stopped smiling when he dropped me onto the bed—and pulled the covers over my heated body.

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